Chemicals And Deduction: Sherlock X Reader

Twelve

Hey, quite a violent chapter, might be triggering for some, the worst part begins at "Say? No, no, no...."
~Floss x

*Y/N's POV*

Ow.

First thing that you know when you come too is that everything hurts, which is actually a good sign, as it means that you still have all of your limbs, even if they're tied to a chair.

You open your eyes to a very plain, very dull room lit only by one small window, just large enough to see a sky of never ending grey, good old England. You can hear the noise of busy London coming from far below you. At least you hope it's London. God knows how long you've been out for, you could be in many of the major cities in the world.

"Ah, you're awake" a voice says from behind you, making you visibly jump. It has an distinctly Irish accent, as well as the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they're doing. Steps come closer to you and a beaming face appears. The famously dead Moriarty, however he doesn't quite seem to be dead. To be honest, you've always suspected that he would still be alive, from what you've heard (mostly through John's blog) you could tell that he wasn't one to simply just... Die. 

"You fucked over Molly you bitch!" I spit at him, instantly regretting it when you realise that you're dealing with a serial killer. Dummy. 

"Nice to see you again too Y/L/N," he was of course talking to the time that you met 'Jim from IT' when he used Molly to get to Sherlock. You knew that there was something suspicious about him but you reckoned that it was just the fact that he was hiding that he was gay from Molly. Turns out that he's a psycopathic serial killer. "I also attached a bomb to one of your friends and caused your boyfriend to commit suicide, but people tend to forget that part." He makes a dramatic sigh, and somehow you see a twisted version of yourself in him. A psycopathic drama queen instead of a borderline sociopathic drama queen. 

"What do you want?" You ask, he doesn't want to kill you yet, he would have done it already if he did. He opens his mouth in a mock shock, pretending to be offended.

"I just wanted to have a catch up that's all, a little chit chat, if you will." You look him up and down trying to deduce anything you can about him, which of course you can't. He hides it all too well. Hides it all behind an expensive suit and a smile, that is if he has anything to hide. The scariest part is that you doubt he has anything of use to you for you to deduce at all, no weaknesses or pressure points. He is just a heartless being of chaos, every move delicately planned. That's why he's so dangerous. He's a genius. You say nothing in reply, shooting daggers at him. "Soooooo," he starts, in a sort of sing song, "what's going on between you and Sherlock, are you guys official? Have you said that you loooovvveeee eachother yet?" it's incredible how much fear someone acting like a twelve year old girl can strike into you. You just look up at him, saying nothing as there is nothing you can think to say. "Ugh, you-" he points at you, finger just centimeters from your nose "-are boring! I thought you'd be exciting but now you've gone all quiet and shy."

"You're using me to get to Sherlock." You state, you know its true, you haven't pissed him off enough to be the main prize, and he hasn't had enough fun catching you.

"Fineeeee," he finally says, after eyeing you, you obviously didn't give the response he wanted. "you got me!" he holds his hands up in the air as if to surrender. He sighs and puts them down again. "Not to be rude or anything but you're just not what I want." Frowning, he comes closer to you, you try and pull back but due to being tied to a chair, you can't do much so soon his forehead is touching yours. He smells like aftershave and mint and not at all like blood, which was what you expected for some reason. "Now, you're going to be a good girl for daddy and you're going to give a message to our Sherly." you can feel his hot breath on your face, making you want to move as far away from him as possible, but your lack of movement leaves you frozen. He steps back again, allowing you to let out a breath that you had been holding for God knows how long.

"And what do you need me to say?" You manage to ask, surprised at how calm your voice is, compared to the internal anxiety that you are struggling not to display.

"Say? No, no, no doll you have it all wrong." A look of excitement flashes across the man's face. He's been waiting for this. Your hatred for him turns to pure terror when you realise that if you're not going to be used as a mouth peice, you're going to be used as a model. "Boys!" he calls in a melodic fashion, and the door opens to reveal two men dressed from head to toe in black, one 6'4", the other 6'3". Your eyes flicker between the two men and Moriarty, who's face was one of pure glee. The larger man walks out from the doorway and begins to untie your arms from behind your back, as he does so the shorter man reveals a red hot brandishing iron. You look back to Moriarty again, your eyes pleading, begging him not to do this, although you know that it's of no use. The larger man now has your left arm twisted behind your back, with the smaller man holding down your right.

"Now remember Y/N, that I'll be seeing you again very soon, but if you are naughty, I will-" the taller man's hand goes to your face, covering your mouth and nose in a cloth, which you guess is doused in chloroform. You don't have time to confirm this as as this happens the shorter man shoves the hot iron onto your forearm, and an agonising pain shoots up your arm, you scream through gritted teeth and every muscle in your body screams with you. You can practically feel your skin melting. "-BURN YOU" Moriarty's raucous voice booms in your ears. You look up at him through hot tears, his face blurred. You blink, eyes heavy. You watch the fire in his eyes blaze as he grins. Your muscles slowly relax again, but the pain doesn't ease. Your head droops, your eyes close, and for the second time that day... black.

"Catch. You. Later."