Two Years Gone

Questioning

*Sherlock POV*

"Who sent you?"

I shake my head, spitting blood onto the cold cement floor. Someone hits me again, laughing when I yell in pain. He repeats the question, calling for Irene to be brought back in when I shake my head again. We have been in questioning like this since I got here, alternating beatings as neither of us is willing to give up anything. My head is spinning, body dotted with already deeply coloured bruises and shallow cuts.

"Stop."

I am instantly released, barely able to drag my head up to see the newcomer.

"Hello Sherlock."

Its Moriarty, Westwood suit sharp as ever. He steps over Irene, walking slowly closer to me until he is close enough to touch me. He leans in, lips grazing my ear as he speaks.

"Did you miss me?"

I struggle to stay calm, fear coursing through my body.

"How disappointing, you have looked better my darling."

"Fuck off."

I am hit again, biting back a scream as someone's fist connects with my side.

"Oh Sherlock, you never learn. Do you?"

He is still close to me, slowly running his hand down my side before pressing down on my ribs. I do scream this time, vision flashing white. Moriarty steps back, watching me with amusement until I am able to see again.

"Why did your brother abandon you again?"

"He didnt."

"Then where is he? He hasnt sent you help, not yet. Half of the crew he sent worked for me."

"Fuck you."

I am hit again, blood spilling from my nose. Moriarty kneels down beside Irene, taking her pulse before turning back to me.

"You can end this for her. Just tell us what we want to know."

"I won't, and neither will she."

Irene shifts, groaning in pain as she wakes up. She sits up quickly, scrambling away from Moriarty.

"Leave her alone!"

I start struggling, afraid of him hurting her more than she already is. My wrists are bleeding again, blood running down my arms and sides. Irene is backed against a wall now, silent as Moriarty gently cups her face in his hand.

"Enough for today."

Someone comes in, dragging Irene out and slamming the door shut. Moriarty stands, stepping closer to me.

"Get away from me."

My voice is shaking, words quieter than I meant them to be.

"You're scared. Its because I'm right, isnt it? You know he wont send anyone else for you, it isnt that simple. No one else has come, they won't find you Sherlock."

"Stop."

"Are you scared? You are, aren't you? Its because you're helpless. You cant even save yourself, how do you expect to save her?"

"Shut up!"

He steps closer, leaning in to whisper in my ear again.

"You can't do it. Give up Sherlock."

I realize I'm crying again, not bothering to continue my struggles any more.

"There we go. Such a good boy."

Moriarty touches me again, hands cold against my sides.

"Hmm...does it hurt?"

I don't respond, closing my eyes and letting the tension out of my body.

"Don't worry, it'll be worse tomorrow. You should get used to it eventually, you need to if you want to survive."

He backs off slowly, leaving the room and locking the door behind him. I can't sleep, pain too sharp to allow it. I can hear Irene, just a few rooms over. She is crying, clearly not finished with her interrogation yet. Her screams cut right through me, knowing it is my fault she is in pain. They found her because of me. My door opens a few hours later, Moriarty returning.

"Are you sure about this sir?"

"Of course. Cant have our plaything dying yet, can we?"

He steps closer, needle in hand. I flinch, moving as far back as the ropes will allow. I am pinned to the wall by the other man, unable to move as Moriarty pushes the needle below my skin.

"Goodnight darling."