FIC: Six Hours, Forty Minutes, and Change
Jul. 12th, 2011 08:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
HC_Bingo, you say? Why yes! For the 'slavery' square, Sherlock, spoilers for "The Great Game." Warning: Dark, character death. Thanks to
tiggymalvern and
lindentreeisle for betaing.
18:00
Someone had jumped him on his way to Sarah's; several someones, technically, but it all boiled down to one man, one evil smile stretching across his face. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Watson. Really, it is. We're going to go see Sherlock, in a bit, doesn’t that sound pleasant?"
John wanted to spit in the man's face, but he'd been drugged and couldn't get his body to obey. The man from the mortuary, the one who'd given Sherlock his number. Oh, God, Molly. Oh, God, Sherlock.
"Are you ready to play the game, Doctor? I do so hope you are."
John shook his head, and it took too long; he was impossibly slow, dull. Sherlock would be disappointed.
Sherlock would be alone.
24:04
"I will burn the heart out of you."
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."
"Oh, but we both know that's not quite true."
Moriarty was right, but it was a hell of a time for someone to notice that Sherlock Holmes had a conscience, however weak and quiet it might be. A hell of a time for someone to notice that Holmes had a list of people he wanted to protect, and John was on it.
24:45
It took a moment for John Watson to piece his thoughts together, and once he'd done it, he almost wished he hadn't.
"Probably my answer has crossed yours," Sherlock had said, and the world had gone white and gold and painful, and how was he not dead? Sherlock, God, where was he, what had--
"He's dead, Doctor." Moriarty sighed.
No. No. John lurched into a sitting position. They were in the back of a moving vehicle, probably a van of some sort, and his hands were tied. Something -- John assumed blood -- was matted at the side of his head, and he could feel burn marks along his arms. They didn't hurt as much as they should have, not if--
"I'm afraid neither of you made it," Moriarty continued, playing idly with the gun in his lap. He was sitting on a crate near the back of the van. "A pity, really. I'd been hoping to use Sherlock, of course, but--" Moriarty shook his head. "He took the brunt of the explosion. I'm not sure if he was trying to protect you, or he just wanted to irritate me."
"What does that mean," John asked, keeping his anger down as much as he could. "You said neither of us made it. I'm here, aren't I?"
Moriarty's smile was feral, and John felt a cold chill in his spine. "What's just happened, Dr. Watson, is that I've given you the gift of life." He raised his right hand, and John could see a dull blue glow around his raised fingers. "My abilities, you see, are not just limited to crime. All I need is a soul, and despite your late friend's protestations to the contrary, he had one."
"You can't keep me here," John said. "You can't keep me alive, I won't--"
Moriarty closed his fingers into a fist, and John froze. "On the contrary," he said. "I can do both."
No, John thought.
"Congratulations, Dr. Watson," Moriarty said. "Welcome to your new career."
***
Apologies to Minekura for ripping her off, just a little.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
18:00
Someone had jumped him on his way to Sarah's; several someones, technically, but it all boiled down to one man, one evil smile stretching across his face. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Watson. Really, it is. We're going to go see Sherlock, in a bit, doesn’t that sound pleasant?"
John wanted to spit in the man's face, but he'd been drugged and couldn't get his body to obey. The man from the mortuary, the one who'd given Sherlock his number. Oh, God, Molly. Oh, God, Sherlock.
"Are you ready to play the game, Doctor? I do so hope you are."
John shook his head, and it took too long; he was impossibly slow, dull. Sherlock would be disappointed.
Sherlock would be alone.
24:04
"I will burn the heart out of you."
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."
"Oh, but we both know that's not quite true."
Moriarty was right, but it was a hell of a time for someone to notice that Sherlock Holmes had a conscience, however weak and quiet it might be. A hell of a time for someone to notice that Holmes had a list of people he wanted to protect, and John was on it.
24:45
It took a moment for John Watson to piece his thoughts together, and once he'd done it, he almost wished he hadn't.
"Probably my answer has crossed yours," Sherlock had said, and the world had gone white and gold and painful, and how was he not dead? Sherlock, God, where was he, what had--
"He's dead, Doctor." Moriarty sighed.
No. No. John lurched into a sitting position. They were in the back of a moving vehicle, probably a van of some sort, and his hands were tied. Something -- John assumed blood -- was matted at the side of his head, and he could feel burn marks along his arms. They didn't hurt as much as they should have, not if--
"I'm afraid neither of you made it," Moriarty continued, playing idly with the gun in his lap. He was sitting on a crate near the back of the van. "A pity, really. I'd been hoping to use Sherlock, of course, but--" Moriarty shook his head. "He took the brunt of the explosion. I'm not sure if he was trying to protect you, or he just wanted to irritate me."
"What does that mean," John asked, keeping his anger down as much as he could. "You said neither of us made it. I'm here, aren't I?"
Moriarty's smile was feral, and John felt a cold chill in his spine. "What's just happened, Dr. Watson, is that I've given you the gift of life." He raised his right hand, and John could see a dull blue glow around his raised fingers. "My abilities, you see, are not just limited to crime. All I need is a soul, and despite your late friend's protestations to the contrary, he had one."
"You can't keep me here," John said. "You can't keep me alive, I won't--"
Moriarty closed his fingers into a fist, and John froze. "On the contrary," he said. "I can do both."
No, John thought.
"Congratulations, Dr. Watson," Moriarty said. "Welcome to your new career."
***
Apologies to Minekura for ripping her off, just a little.