Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter 32- Holmes, Sherlock

Millie's POV

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The pain is slowly starting to ebb from my body, and I'm beginning to regain some control. I can sit up now, and drink water. I'm lucky that the shock didn't induce cardiac arrest.

I'm feeling a lot more comfortable locked in a cell with Emily.

Although the pain was like nothing I've ever felt before, I can honestly say I would rather go through it all again then go back into that room with Moriarty. He didn't say much- in fact, he didn't speak other than to answer the few questions I asked him. But that look of genuine satisfaction at John's screams was authentically chilling. I'd forgotten just how unstable he really was. He never opened his eyes. His fingers never stopped tapping out the rhythm on his knee. He just sat there, throughout the night, not sleeping, just thinking. And from the smile on his lips his thoughts were very dark, and verging on deranged psychopathy.  I shudder at the memory, then look over to Emily.

She's lying on the bed, her hands folder over her chest, staring at the ceiling, unblinking.

"Emily?"

"Hm?"

"Talk. I need distraction. "

I don't want to think about what will happen to Sherlock when the sun sets. The idea of him being exposed to the agony I experienced makes me feel sick.

"How did you cope in that cell?"

Her question surprises me. 

"I ignored him. For the most part, anyway. I suggest you don't look at him. It's unsettling."

She pauses.

"What did you talk about?"

"We didn't. Well, I asked him if he thought they would let John live. I thought he would be able to give me an accurate answer. This is his forte, not mine."

She nods in agreement-

"Why do you think he came? To China, I mean. I'm sure he suspected something like this would happen. Like you said, it's his world."

I consider-

"Knowing him, I'd say he came out here with the knowledge that we would be tortured. He knows about almost every governmental organisation there is. He didn't look surprised when we were arrested. Probably wanted to listen to Sherlock scream," I say.

She frowns at the ceiling, and is silent for a minute.

"He is legitemately insane, isn't he?"

"Yes."

There's another contemplative silence.

Then-

"I wonder if they'll intervine if I attack him?"

I look over to her, alarmed, but she's grinning at me. I smile back-

"You could try. I'm not going to lie, I was undeniably jealous when you slapped him."

She laughs.

And we sink back into our own thoughts. 

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I sit up, suddenly awake.

I must have fallen asleep. It's evening outside. There's a cold clench of anticipation. It's going to begin very soon.

I voice my thoughts-

"What do you think they'll do to him?"

"Don't think about it."