Sherlock Holmes & The Knights Templar

Branding

John had gone to several meetings after the initial gathering with his two brothers as he now called them and John couldn’t say he was happy, but he had hope that even if he didn’t get home he would have at least made an attempt to secure peace in the world through the Masonic Brotherhood. He had not seen the scribe that Moriarty sought, but then maybe there never was such a person, after all Moriarty was insane, so the scribe could be just a figure in his twisted imagination. John let his thoughts drift as he made his way back to the Knights Templar Compound, he should have been focused on his surroundings, that way he would have been alert, that way he would not have fallen victim to the amateurish ambush that had been set for him.

One moment John had been creeping quietly along the desert floor and the next moment he was knocked unconscious from behind. John tasted blood in his mouth and groaned as he felt rough hands removing his armor, and then oh God no his clothing, John wasn’t given a chance to reflect on his current state of undress as he was shackled, and yanked to his feet. He then was poked and prodded by sticks as his captors made lewd comments about his nakedness, chilling comments like, “Look at the nice pink arse, it looks empty, and it looks like it could do with a little something or a big something stuffed in it.” The men laughed as one of them slammed him against the wall and John gagged on his own bile as the man’s fetid breath whispered in his ear, “Come on sweetie, no need for the master to know.” John tensed as the man’s hand slid in a very private place, “Come on don’t tense, you will be grateful once I ride you. My God, have you ever seen such a pink arse in all your life. He looks tight, but don’t worry I will soften him up for you men, “the man said as he began to manipulate John’s body, so that it could be easily violated.  John frantically struggled as he heard his would be rapist’s pants and belt clatter to the floor. Tears flowed freely down his face for John didn’t think he could take much more, then just as he prepared himself for penetration, the man made a grunting noise, as an arrow pierced him through. John cried out as the shaft went clean through the man’s chest the tip of it biting into his back, as it sliced its way down his body. The arrow and the blood from his would be attacker flowed freely, down John’s back, his waist, his buttocks his upper thighs, John heard the man hit the floor at his feet as his body splashed in his own blood. By this time John was openly weeping not caring whether anyone saw him or not and then he heard a familiar voice which made him weep harder.

“I said you were to bring him to me unharmed,” Moriarty hissed as he leveled the black crossbow he had in his hand at the motley group that surrounded John. “Now pick him up and lay him down gently on the table, oh and get rid of the body of that filthy pig that tried to violate my John, throw his body out in the desert for the animals to eat.”

John gagged and retched as two strong arms laid him face down on a table, a table where they shackled his arms and legs to the side. “John,” Moriarty whispered as he knelt down at John’s eye level. “John, you are going to be experiencing a lot of pain, but afterwards you will be mine, mine forever, no sneaking out at night to meet other men for you, for I am going to brand you as my personal property.”

John gasped as he looked up at Moriarty, “What?” He gasped.

Moriarty then took John’s hand in his own and said sadly, “I’m sorry, John, this is for the best you will see. Now keep your eyes fixed on me.”

John gasped again as he asked, “What….” His question trailed off in a violent screech as he felt a red-hot brand searing his buttocks. The last thing John remembered before he lost consciousness was the smell of his own burning flesh, his scream of agony and Moriarty’s echoed scream of agony as John squeezed Moriarty’s hand so tightly, that he crushed the bones in Moriarty’s fingers.