Daylight

Part 11

Sherlock watched Jim come into John’s room with growing horror.  He had promised to leave John alone.  Maybe Jim had found out about the clues he'd sent Mycroft.  He very stupidly assumed Jim wouldn’t know about Mycroft’s contacts.  But the plan he’d placed in motion had already begun to play out.  He couldn’t turn it off now, the curtain was rising on his little play. 

     Sound from John's room began coming through the speakers on Sherlock’s desk.  He’d been set up with a Skype account in order to remotely access clients under supervision, and he’d needed speakers to communicate with others out in the world.  He’d been in this warehouse so long, he’d almost forgotten what outside was like. 

     At first the volume had been turned down, and Sherlock scrambled to turn it up.  He missed the first part of their conversation but quickly caught up.

   It had all been Jim posturing in his “crime lord” mode and John responding back in moderate confusion.  Sherlock sat through all the introductory banter in tense silence.  His ever present guards stood by bored, and uninterested in the drama unfolding on the monitor.  They didn’t seem to be paying attention. 

     Jim advanced on John but instead of backing away, John stood fast.  Sherlock caught John’s determined look before he took Jim in hand and began his work.  He knew John had nothing but contempt for Moriarty.  There was no passion in John’s eyes, in the way he gripped Jim’s head or pulled him in for a kiss.  John’s thoroughness, his methodical kissing, and his intensity all told Sherlock of his intent.  He had a plan.

     When John took hold of Jim’s wrists in a display of dominance, Sherlock felt no jealously or shock, but a fierce joy.  John intended to fight back.  Jim’s compliance told Sherlock he found John’s aggressiveness arousing.  Jim preferred the novel, the unique and John seemed to be delivering that in spades.  John undressed him, took off Jim’s tie and trousers, and pushed the man back on the bed.  Sherlock did feel a stab of jealously then.  Of all the wretched humans on planet Earth, Jim Moriarty would never deserve the honor John bestowed on him at this moment.  To have John in his arms, to have John kissing and pressing himself on top….Sherlock ground his teeth at the thought of the incredible bliss Jim must be feeling at John’s hands.  So unfair!

    But, he brought his thoughts back to John’s look at the camera before he’d begun his plundering of Jim’s body.  Sherlock observed the pliant way Jim moved with pleasure under John.  John remained mostly dressed and had only undone the buttons of his jeans to free his dick.  Anyone else monitoring the pair, and Sherlock knew others watched, would only see two beings caught up in sexual ecstasy.  However, Sherlock saw something else.  He always saw.  In his left hand, John still clutched Jim’s silk tie.  He’d removed it easily and let it flutter to his side but kept part of it wrapped in is palm. 

     Sherlock had also noticed John’s collar, just like his own, and knew it meant Jim could force John to do anything he wanted.  What then did John intend to do?  Sherlock saw the tension in John’s shoulders as he readied himself to do something.  Then, John reached around to turn Jim over so he was face down on the bed.  He hooked his thumbs into Jim’s pants and pulled them down over his ass, along his thighs and dropped to his ankles.  Jim kicked them off with a wicked chuckle.

     “I see you may get your wish, Johnny,” he said.  “Go ahead.”   Jim had been gripping a bottle of lube in one hand.  He must have had it in his jacket pocket and taken it out before John relieved him of it.  He handed it to John and Sherlock heard the “pop” of the cap flipping up.  John used some to coat himself and rubbed his hand up and down preparing himself.  Sherlock noticed he didn’t seem interested in prepping Jim first, and Jim seemed unfazed by any imminent pain.  “Do it,” he commanded.

     John lined himself up with Jim’s opening and began pushing himself in.  He paused briefly allowing Jim to adjust to him and continued gliding in and out establishing a punishing rhythm.  Jim let out a series of moans as John sped up. 

     Then, John leaned forward laying himself along Jim’s back.  One of his arms snaked around Jim’s neck so it rested in the crook of his elbow, and the other he used to press along his chest.  To any outside view, John’s embrace might be misconstrued as a passionate way to stabilize their sexual position, but Sherlock could see John intentionally kept his left arm out of view of the camera.  The tension in John’s shoulders told Sherlock he had Jim in a choke hold and his right hand came up to cover Jim’s mouth.  Since Jim’s face was away from the camera, his struggles looked just like the throes of passion.  John pressed tighter and Jim began to resist in earnest. 

No one came into the room to stop John, and Sherlock let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.  If John weren’t careful, his captors would blow John’s collar right in front of him and he’d watch his friend bleed out.      

Sherlock’s hands gripped the desk in front of him.  Anyone watching might suspect his wide-eyed expression simply came from seeing the man he loved fucking his worst enemy.   But soon, Jim’s movements slowed and stopped.  Jim was either dead or unconscious.  Sherlock voted for dead.

 John kept pounding Jim’s ass until he thrust forward one final time and let out a sigh of relief.  He pulled out, wiped himself off on his bed sheet and stood up.  Jim still lay face down on the bed.  Again, Sherlock thought, he could be recovering from post orgasmic bliss.  John took a second to put himself back into his pants and button up his jeans.  He rolled Jim over exposing the fact that he was obviously not moving. 

    Ten seconds later, the door opened and Geoff came into the room.  He held the collar’s key out in front of him and pushed the button he thought would explode the charges.  His face, a scrunched up mess of furious red, reflected his terrified confusion.  His boss lie across the bed, possibly dead, and the fucking button didn’t appear to do a damn thing when he pressed it over and over. 

  It didn’t take long for Geoff, in his terrified panic, to begin pressing other buttons in an effort to find the one that would blow the charges.  If his boss woke up and found out he’d not done his job, he’d be a dead man.  Sherlock knew the moment the collar’s clasp released itself because John’s face collapsed with relief.  Somehow, John had known the collar wouldn’t blow!

  He pulled the collar off and placed it around Jim’s neck  Geoff immediately stopped pushing buttons on the remote and looked aghast at John.  Sherlock let out a short laugh and clapped his hand over his mouth.  He loved John more than ever at this moment.  His brave, smart John.  He’d give him anything in the world he asked for. 

Sherlock hid his joy and braced himself for what might happen next.  He moved his body to cover the monitor in front of him.  He didn’t want the men standing guard in his room to get wind of John’s attempted escape. 

    Sherlock watched as Geoff finally decided to take charge of the situation and rush John.  Sherlock had seen John take down men twice his size and watched with growing hope and admiration as John used a classic judo move to subdue the overwhelmed Geoff.  He wrapped Jim’s tie around the man’s neck and used it like a garrote to strangle him into unconsciousness.  He finally fell limp on the floor, and John pawed through his pockets until he found a key ring.  On it was the key he wanted, and he used it to unlock the cuff.  He picked up the collar's remote and put it in his pocket. Insurance?

     Geoff had left the door open, thankfully, and John slipped out of his room.  Sherlock sat back stunned.  John had escaped.