Sherlock: The Next Generation

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Pain clouded his mind, swarming before his eyes. An excruciating agony filled his entire body. One he had never felt before. One he never wanted to feel again. He wanted it to end. He wanted it all to end. This was all his fault... All of his fault.

It seemed when Moriarty had said he was going to burn out Sherlock's heart he had meant it. Well and truly meant it. And he was doing it by harming those closest to Sherlock. There was a reason behind Moriarty's every action. Especially behind his abduction of the twins. A very twisted reason.

Hamish could barely think. The pain was too great. Its source was his arms, deep gashes running along their length. The bleeding had stopped a while ago yet he still felt dizzy. Blood loss, probably. He lay on the ground of the small room that he had grown to hate in the little time that they had been here. It was square with plainly coloured walls. The door was a sturdy wooden one with an electronic code lock. Unlocked from the outside, of course. There were two chairs in here. Nothing more. Not even a mattress to sleep on.

A gasp came from Hamish's lips as he rolled over onto his side, vision blurry. But from here he could see his twin. Martin was sitting on a chair haphazardly, leaning forward so that his body was lying on his legs. Dried blood crusted his arms, his clothes, his hair. Everything. Hamish knew that he, also, was on the edge of consciousness. And this was only the beginning... Hamish knew that it was only the beginning. Moriarty, he was... Scary. To say the least. It seemed he really wanted to hurt their Dad.

Hamish just hoped that Papa and Dad found them soon. Because, at the moment, they were still alive.

"Mish?" Martin's voice was barely audible, cracked. Hamish gave him a faint smile. One that was undoubtedly not echoed in his eyes.

"I'm okay..." Hamish managed to groan out, pushing himself up into a sort of sitting position. Now that he thought about it the pain was beginning to die down. Probably because he felt so dizzy and sick... Overwhelmingly so. Martin slowly pushed himself of the chair, slipping down onto the floor next to Martin. It took only a few, albeit painful, movements for the two to get close enough together to hug. Offering each other comfort.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Hamish. Martin just shook his head, eyes fluttering closed.

"It's not your fault." That was how the two of them fell asleep, huddled together on the cold floor.

Hamish was torn from his sleep by the door clicking open. He was instantly crouching protectively in front of Martin, ignoring the pain that came back fresh from his wakening. He was beginning to get used to it, though. Thankfully.

"Don't worry, it's me."

Hamish's mouth fell open as he properly looked at the person who had entered the room. Average height. Brown hair. Midnight blue eyes. Thirteen, like them.

"Mortimer?" Hamish gasped out, blinking in confusion. What... that didn't make sense. Wait, no. It did. Everything clicked into place. It all made sense now. Why Mortimer had never truly talked about his family, his parents jobs. No, the only person he had ever talked about was his little brother.

"Yep, that's me," Mortimer smiled ever so slightly. "Didn't expect to see me, did you?" He sighed, sitting down in front of Hamish and Martin. Martin was now awake, watching Mortimer cautiously.

"Moriarty is your... Dad?" Hamish frowned slightly.

"Yes. Which is why I can't really stay long. If he finds out I've been in here..." Mortimer winced slightly. "But I'm sorry. I really am. I'm going to help you as much as I can." The boy rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a small tub of pills. He opened the lid. "Painkillers. They should help a little. Hope you can swallow them dry."

"They'll do," Hamish smiled faintly, holding out his hand. Mortimer dropped one onto his hand, then another one onto Martin. They both took them at the same time. "Thanks, Mori."

"Don't worry about it..." Mortimer replied. "It's the least I can do. I'll try to talk to my dad but I doubt it will help in any way. But I'll try."

Hamish nodded slightly, letting out a light sigh as the pain began to reduce in intensity. "Again, thank you." His voice cracked.

"I have to go..." Mortimer murmured, standing suddenly. "I'll try and come again. Bye Hamish, Martin." He nodded to both of them.

"Goodbye, Mortimer." Hamish lay down, once again hugging Martin. It seemed all that was left to do was sleep and wait. And hope. Hope for the best. That their Dad and Papa would find them soon.