Tale As Old As Time (JohnLock)

The Spider

A/N Hey My Lovelies!!! Another chapter for you all!!! Omg shit is about to go down kids!!! Enjoy<3

"Sherlock!" The young man ran from the castle, ignoring the pleas from the staff and John. "Sherlock wait! You can't go out there! Sherlock!"

He ran to the stables, grabbing Redbeard's halter and dragging the horse out of his stable. He used the fence of one of the stable doors to propel himself onto Redbeard's back, far too lost in his panic to care about a saddle.

"Sherlock!" He could hear John yelling for him, sending another flare to panic through his mind. He kicked his horse into a gallop, tearing from the stables. "Sherlock! Stop! You'll get hurt!"

He couldn't stay. He couldn't let this happen.

He looked back to see John, standing in front of the stables.

"I'm sorry John."

John watched as Sherlock raced away, tugging at his hair and fighting for air. Sherlock was going to die out there, and there was no way he would let him save him.

"John! What's going on?" Mycroft's concerned voice came from behind him.

"He left."

"What? Go after him!"

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't? John-"

"He ran because of me, Mycroft! I told him I thought he was attractive and he freaked out! He isn't going to want me anywhere near him." John felt his heart shatter as he lost sight of the young man. He dropped to his knees and held his head in his hands.

"John, he won't survive out there. The wolves-"

"I killed the wolves. He will make it back to town fine."

"I would almost rather him face the wolves." Mycroft's voice was dejected and broken as he stood beside John. "You have no idea what Moriarty will do to him John."

"I'm sorry Mycroft. I can't leave the borders."

"Maybe he will come back." John could hear in the clock's voice that he didn't believe his own words.

"He won't. It's too late Myc. I'm sorry I couldn't free you guys." John took a shuddering breath and looked at his friend. "Go be with your husband. Tell everyone I'm sorry."

Sherlock saw the flickering lights of the town looming in the distance, and felt an impending sense of dread.

He had made a terrible mistake. John wasn't going to hurt him. John would never hurt him.

He would return in the morning.

As Sherlock rode into town, he heard the whispers of the townspeople, he could feel the confusion and awe as they watched him ride along the streets.

He approached his house, tying Redbeard to the post and making his way inside. He would get some sleep and leave in the morning. He hesitated in the doorway, looking about the tiny building he used to call home. When did it get so small? So cluttered?

When did he become so lonely?

"Sherlock! Long time, no see." The voice that haunted his nightmares filled the small space, causing Sherlock to jump, spinning around and reeling backwards.

Moriarty stood in the doorway, an evil smirk on his face. Moran stood behind him, arms crossed and a nasty scowl on his face.

"I-I-"

"What's wrong Honey? You look like you've seen a ghost." The pair stepped inside, closing and latching the door behind them. Sherlock stumbled backwards, his eyes searching for something he could use as a weapon.

Where was his revolver when he needed it?

"You Know, I'm fine with you taking a few days if you need it every once a while, but this is ridiculous."

"Why are you here Moriarty?" Sherlock struggled to keep his voice steady as he found himself backed against the wall.

"Well I'm here to see my betrothed of course!"

"I am not your betrothed. I don't belong to you!" Moriarty stepped close to Sherlock, reaching up to brush the curls out of Sherlock's face. The younger man stopped his hand before he could touch him. "Don't touch me, you spider." He growled, feeling an unnerving sense of fear at the anger that filled Moriarty's face.

"You know Sherlock," the man pulled his wrist out of Sherlock's grip, stepping back just slightly, "as much as I have enjoyed you playing hard to get, its getting boring," Sherlock felt pain flare in his cheek as Moriarty drew back and punched him. "It's been fun, but daddy's had enough now!" He tried to escape, but Moriarty pressed his hand against the wounds on Sherlock's chest. He cried out and felt his knees buckle at the pain. "Oh, what's this?" Moriarty tore his shirt open, revealing the bandages.

They were stained with fresh blood.

"My, my, what did this to you?" Sherlock whimpered as the man poked at the bleeding wounds. "Was it those nasty wolves I always hear out there?"

"G-go to Hell."

"Tsk, tsk, that was a little rude. I just want to know what happened Darling." Moriarty roughly ground his knuckle into the largest of the gashes, pulling a tortured scream from Sherlock. "Where have you been Sweetheart? Tell me, and I'll make the pain stop. It will all go away if you tell me where you went."

The pain was blinding, and Sherlock was starting to lose the ability to think.

John. He needed John.

"John? Who is this John?" Sherlock was vaguely aware that he was calling out for the beast, but he couldn't stop himself. The pain had stripped away any filter he might have had.

He couldn't stop the words from spilling.

"Well, I can't have my future husband's heart belonging to a beast, can I?"

"What is your plan?" Moran spoke for the first time. Moriarty grinned and stepped away from Sherlock, letting him fall to the floor.

"I'm going to kill The Beast."