Consulting Fangirl

Chapter 24: John

A/N What fresh hell is this? Am I... updating early? *GASP* 

Yes, it's true, I'm updating a day early. Wooooooo. Horray. Party. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please don't murder me, I updated early. I'm a nice person. Remember that as you read. 

A spotlight switched on the second those words hit my ears. The sudden light startled me. I blinked back the tears as my eyes adjusted. There, standing in the centre of the spotlight, was a man I never thought I’d see again, a man I prayed to never cross paths with again.

James Moriarty.

After the initial shock of seeing him alive, anger started to settle. I should have known. I was a fool to think Sherlock had survived while the spider was dead. I walked right into his web just as he knew I would. Shame spread through my veins like venom.

“Moriarty.” His name was poison in my mouth. I had to resist the urge to spit it out and clean my tongue after simply saying it. The only good thing that came of the fall was the death of James Moriarty, and now even that was a lie.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Johnny boy. You came here thinking Sherlock had faked his death why is it any surprise that I faked mine too?”

Something about that seemed off. “Too? You faked yours too? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Moriarty’s eyes lit up in a sick sort of shimmer. “Oh dear me, I almost forgot the reunion. How silly of me. Seb! Light him up!”

Another spotlight flickered on, instead pointing towards the other side of the room. There, tied to a chair and bloody, sat Sherlock Holmes.

Something snapped inside me. Something broke inside the very depths of my soul in the second when I saw his face. I forgot all sense. I forgot the soldier’s composure I had mastered over the years. I forgot everything but a single thought. He is alive. He is alive. It repeated over and over in my head until my mind was near animalistic, held together only by the primal instinct to protect. I have to protect him. I have to save him. He is alive. I can’t let him die.

Somehow I managed to stay on my feet, but nothing could stop the broken whimper that escaped my lips. It was a sign of weakness. I was weak. I didn’t care. I have to save him. He is alive.

“Now now Johnny boy, don’t get too excited. See, Sherlock may be alive, but he won’t be for long. It seems rather unfair, but so was him faking his death when he should have just followed the plan. Now, you’re here for some… motivation. Let’s see if we can really break Sherlock this time.

From the darkness came two guards at my side, leading me closer to Moriarty. They shoved me in a chair just a few feet in front of Sherlock’s. I tried to fight them, but one well-placed blow to the shoulder left me gasping. I sat back as they tied my bonds and stared at Sherlock. He stared back, likely deducing everything I’ve been doing for two years. I let him, knowing damn well that I’d never be able to read him.

“Now,” Moriarty started once they’d properly secured me. “Let’s play a little game. You’re gong to tell Sherlock here exactly what’s happened over the past few years. All the pain, the suffering, and the heartbreak you went through. If I don’t think you’re being honest, my boys will cut you. Deal?”

I stared at him, silent and defiant. He didn’t like that very much. With a simple flick of his wrist, the man behind me stepped forward. My shirt was torn off. The cold air chilled my bare arms and chest as I struggled to remain calm. Hot pain exploded on the back of my neck, tempering the previous chill. I felt blood running down my back, staining the grey metal chair I was strapped to.

Beside me, Sherlock flinched as if the blade had struck him.

“Now, John, tell me what happened the day Sherlock fell. How did you feel?” I grit my teeth to hold back my rage. My neck hurt, but it was only a shallow cut at the moment.

“I felt fine. I missed him, but I got over it.”

The blade sliced a clear line down my bicep. The thug didn’t even need Moriarty’s consent to know that was a lie. I wasn’t a very good liar. 

Sherlock pulled harder against his restraints. I sat completely still, not daring to even breathe. It was obvious to me that Moriarty had no intention of letting me live. If my last actions could protect Sherlock in any way, it’s this. I wouldn’t let him know of the hell I endured without him. I wouldn’t let him see the pain I went through when I thought he was dead. I couldn’t.

"What. Did. You. Feel?” Moriarty asked through a clenched jaw. I could feel the knife on my throat, yet I was perfectly calm.

Mai flashed into my mind. It was almost like I could hear her running down the hallways, calling to me. I hated to leave her, but it seemed I had no choice. This would always be the road I chose, running blindly into battle to save Sherlock. Maybe that was my messed up head, but I’ve known since the second I laid eyes on that man that I would die for him, willingly or unwillingly.

“I felt sad. I grieved. I moved on.”

This was not the answer Moriarty was looking for. He wanted to torture me into torturing Sherlock with my words. He wanted Sherlock to hear exactly how much pain I was put through on his actions. I couldn’t give that to him.

After a nod from Moriarty, the blade kissed my neck. I could feel the cool metal on my burning skin. I ignored it, focusing only on Sherlock’s eyes. He was saying something, shouting it most likely, but I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear anything but the shallow beating of my heart and the gentle breaths escaping my lips.

Sherlock stopped yelling a moment and looked at me with helpless eyes. I smiled. Just as the blade pressed into my throat, I heard a familiar voice screaming.

“JOHN!”