Sheriarty, the Psychopaths prize

Welcome to Purgatory

Sherlock checked down his list, touch, sound, sight, smell and taste. Sight and taste did not have the chance of being used, in fact the last thing Sherlock remembers tasting is that cinnamon stick he had in his mouth before saying goodbye to John, as well as a little blood from when that bowling ball like object went crashing into his lungs. Smell however could be used, even in his current mental state he was still breathing. After some time concerning a few focused breaths he got a good whiff of the room. It was cold seeing how the scent bit his nose, but also clean. As if someone repeatedly had power washed the area with bleach, both finds were alarming but needed.

He then went over the few sentences that his captors got out before Sherlock blacked out. A few things stuck out to him at first, when Moriarty said 'a whole other day' that must mean Sherlock has been out for a while. Then came the 'toys' part, are their multiple hostages? Or is he the only one left seeing how Moriarty added the line 'just cause yours don't last long' after that. The more Sherlock went over the few words he had heard during the brief conversation between his captor and unknown alias, the smaller the feeling of hope for survival or even rescue became. He knew he needed to get a better feel for his surroundings if he was ever going to get out of there, but doing so was the hard part.

"Wake up." A voice called, from the darkness of Sherlock's mind.Sherlock looked out to match the voice to a face, but instead the direction from where the voice came from became brighter. At first it blinded him, but once he got used to it he noticed that the light was from a flashlight burning into his corneas.

"There we go, see! Not dead, I told you that gas wasn't poisonous. His physical reflex's to light seem regular, and his breathing was regular to begin with. It was probably just the way his head hit the floor that caused him to be asleep for that long." The voice explained, all while keeping that stupid blinding light in Sherlock's eye.

Sherlock weakly pulled his head to the side and slammed his eyes shut to rehydrate them after being open for who knows how long. His breathing was somewhat back to normal, but he could hear his heart in his head for how hard it was beating.

"Look at that, he is reacting to pain just like you wanted! I fulfilled my end of the bargain, now you need to do your part!" The voice went on. Said voice was weak despite making such demands, and even a man with his eyes slightly burned could see what was going to happen next.

"Yes you have, consider the picture deleted and your freedom back. If your ever in town feel free to stop by and say hi." This was Moriarty's voice again. Despite saying such a sympathetic line, his tone lacked emotion all together.

"Sadly with the gain of your freedom is the loss of your usefulness. So how about when I see you again I'll say hi. Give your great grand-dad my regards." Moriarty went on, but instead of the sounds of foot steps retreating it was the sound of a gun shot. The shot was followed by a thunk, and finally a splurt. Sherlock didn't need all his senses to know that the mans now dead body fell and the added force to the skull where Moriarty more than likely shot him in caused some pressure that caused some blood to squirt out of said hole in skull and around the surrounding areas. Surrounding areas including the floor, wall, and yes even Sherlock's face as far as he could feel. The man didn't even get a chance to beg for his life, not that it would've made a difference.

"Hmm, I guess I should've said his father's name. Their both going to hell any way. His father was at least a better lap dog, maybe I'll take his son next." Moriarty mumbled to himself.

"You have enough dogs to own a god damn kennel, why don't you work on quality rather than quantity for a bit." The other voice joined in, the one Sherlock had yet met.

"What do you think this is? This little puppy over here is a pedigree compared to my whole kennel combined. That's including you Seb." Moriarty went on, his voice actually had a little enthusiasm in it this time. Minus the end part, that part had a bit of a bite to it.

"Tsk, well your 'pedigree' is covered in your last dogs blood." The one known as Seb spit out.

There was no more bickering after that last bit, but there was some shuffling of some footsteps that ended next to Sherlock.
 
"Oops, sorry about that. You got a little something, well just a smidge, here let me get that for you." Moriarty rambled, talking like what he had just done was just a normal every day thing.

Sherlock felt a thumb on his check, it didn't go to gouge out his eyes or slide down to wrap around his throat. Instead it wiped off the man's blood that just happened to land on him.

"There we go, although I must say. Seeing you with a little blood on your face reminds me of the good ole times. Me and you, standing on a roof, faking our own deaths. Good times indeed." Moriarty went on, as if reflecting on happy memories.

"I was there to you know..." Seb butted in, his presence felt like a sixth finger on a with an already sore thumb.

"Sebastian I swear to whatever god you pray to I will make you regret any other word that comes out of your wretched mouth." Moriarty spat at him, the anger was radiating off of him now. The room became silent, even Sherlock's heart stilled in that moment.

You could only hear Seb, now Sebastian, open his mouth to respond. It closed on its own however, and with its closing followed with the stomping of his boots out of the room. The only way to describe his action is like watching a child get scorned by their mother and then get sent off to their rooms to silently scream curses at said parent through their closed door.

Just seconds later Moriarty's attention returned to Sherlock. "You did surprise me, when you jumped you know. I just about died! Well, poor choice of words but you know what I mean. To think I had you all figured out, just to go and literally jump off a roof!" His thumb didn't leave the place it started at, other then wiping off the blood it kinda just stayed there.

"I know your awake, it's rude to ignore people." Moriarty said as he began to apply more pressure toward his thumb. At first it was bearable, then as Sherlock predicted it went closer to his eye. He knew he wasn't going to get out of that place unscathed but he didn't want to lose his sight so early in.

"Not.....ignoring....just...can't...talk.." Sherlock groaned out with the best of his ability. That gas really did a number on him, it was clear to both of them. Just saying those five words left Sherlock breathless.

"Damn it, that idiot didn't dilute the gas enough. Your probably gonna have to stay down for a bit longer. I want you at your best for what I have planned for you, think of it as a thank you for all the joy you have given me these past years." Moriarty stated to Sherlock, as if he cared for his well-being only to put him through true hell.

"Can't....wait..." Sherlock responded, his words were quiet and you could hear in his voice how much it took out of him to say those small two words. However knowing Sherlock, even if it meant taking his last breath to do so he would always get the last word in.

"HELLO READERS!!! Sorry for all the re-posts, I re-read my chapters at least 10 times but it's only when it's published I see the cringe and other problems. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND UNDERSTANDING!!!