Hey fellow Sherlockians! So, I just gotta say, I'm Canadian, not british (I wish I were), and I didn't even try to use british terms and such, as I'm certain I'll butcher it. Also, I hope you guys like this! I plan to continue this, and I'm just posting this part to see what you guys think! Even if they're saying this story is terrible, I'd love a review or two, just so i can improve and to brighten my day! Thanks for reading!

Also, I, unfortunately, don't own any of the characters from Sherlock, the only character in this I do have any rights to is Andre.

It had taken two weeks of torture for his captors had identified their prisoner. Two weeks if torture and Sherlock still hadn't revealed himself. It was after two weeks that one of his interrogators recognised him.

Next they wanted to know what he had been doing, sneaking into the Serbian base at midnight. With refusal to answer came more beatings.

He was bloody and broken, his hair grown wildly, and his build unhealthy thin. He had been hanging between the walls for ages, he couldn't remember the last time his arms hadn't felt the painful strain and tugging.

"Little detective, can you deduce what we brought you? It's a nice little gift..." A man whispered into the prisoners ear.

Sherlock shivered at the icy voice, what were they going to use next on him? His jumbled mind couldn't come up with anything that hadn't been used yet. He wished they would let him die, but they weren't that kind, not until he answered them, but if he did, he didn't know what would happen.

Now that they knew who he was, he wasn't sure why he kept silent. There was no one to save him. No one knew he was here. In fact, the only one who knew he was even alive was Molly and his captors.

"No guess, little detective? Well we had to bring this little toy from London."

This sparked Sherlock's interest, he tried to enter his mind palace, tried to guess at what could only be taken from London.

"We brought you a doctor, Mr Holmes." The joy could be heard in the man's tone.

Doctor? Why a doct- no!

Sherlock's breath began to pick up, surely he was wrong, his disheveled mind was just jumping to conclusions! It must be.

"Do you want to see the doctor, Sherlock? I don't think he's awake just yet, but I'm sure Mr Watson will be wake up soon."

Sherlocks head rose painfully from his chest and he groaned one word. Just this one word set His throat and fire and he started coughing. "John." The chest wracking coughing made his shoulders and back send him into a spasm of pain.

"Yes, detective boy, John."

The man left Sherlock to struggle as he tried to escape from his bonds with renewed energy. He was gasping and coughing as the metal of the cuffs around his wrist rubbed at his wrists until they bled.

His squirming and twisting reopened the sounds in his back, leaving a dark red puddle at his feet.

He wasn't thinking rationally as he gulped in frantic breaths. All he was thinking was that instinct need he had felt on Bart's room top. That need to save his friend. He'd never forgive himself if John was hurt.

Never.

After what felt like forever, Sherlock's struggles stopped as gasped for any air he could get. The pain he was feeling was more than he could handle. The ground smelt terribly of his own blood. He shut his eyes as he tried to forget the pain. He tried to retreat to his mind palace but found he couldn't.

After finding out their mystery intruders name, it wasn't hard to discover his weak spot.

Some man named John Watson proved to have close association with the dead detective.

The man, Andre Hemde, couldn't explain why he wanted to know what this detective was up to so intently. But it troubled him that after the great detective was proved to be a fraud, and after he had died, that he would suddenly show up two years later in his base!

As fake as the detective may be, Andre had to admit he was the most stubborn man he'd net, except himself, of course.

This only made him more eager to break this unbreakable man. To prove he was the stronger one. To crush anyone who would defy him.

It didn't take long at all for his men to find this ex army Doctor. In a week he was pinpointed and his men were just waiting for the signal to abduct him.

Andre chose a time when he alone, at one of John's regular visits to the graveyard.

Andre had nearly gagged at the doctors inability to move on. People die, he should get used to it.

Now Andre sat in his office as he waited for the message telling him that his prisoner had awoken. He hasn't yet seen this John, but he trusted his men could find him with ease.

A small ding went of on his phone, and Andre grinned with cruel excitement.

He never slept, but it was in one of the dazes he sat in that Sherlock heard his door opening.

For the first week he had been in the cell, Sherlock had been sure to pay attention to who was who, he gave them stupid names in his mind, and kept minor notes on what they would do or say. By now they were all the same. Just worthless little puppets he couldn't keep track of.

His blurry, unfocused eyes noticed four forms enter the room. He was still breathing heavy, and his jaw was clenched in agony. The four forms in front of him swayed and spun around him, but he saw one person for sure.

A short, grey blonde being dragged by the shoulders by two people.

John.

How did they find him? How did they know?

How wouldn't they know? Now they'll kill him in front of you.

Then Lestrade.

And Mrs Hudson.

Then you'll be alone. Again.

"Hey!" A violent fist crashed into Sherlock's stomach making him gag and bringing him back to the present.

"Don't ignore me."

His eyes were blinking rapidly as Sherlock tried to clear his vision and focus on something.

"Now, if you're paying attention, I'd like to ask you a question." He could hear the smirk in the man's tone.

Sherlock groaned quietly, recognising the sentence. This was the smoking man. The one who liked to put out his cigars on his back.

Sherlock lifted his head and cleared his gaze on the people before him. Handcuffed and bruised on the floor lay John. His eyes shut and mouth slightly ajar.

Next to him stood two guards and in front of him one of his very first torturers.

"As-" he couldn't finish his retort, which came out raspy and nearly silent, before he started coughing violently again. His chest burning with pain. The sudden on bringing of agony brought on that familiar inability to think, and fuzzy sight.

"What was that?" The guard taunted as he lit himself a cigar, letting the foul smell fill Sherlocks nose and lungs, and not helping with his coughing at all.

"Or should I just wait till our special guest wakes up?" He offered casually.

"No!" Sherlock let out as he coughed struggling to keep his breathing under control. He truly hadn't spoken at all in at least a week, and just doing anything more than breathing was killing him.

"No? Do you really think you have a say? Tell me why you were in the base. Tell me what you intended to do."

Sherlock shut his eyes and shook his head. He couldn't, although he wasn't sure why not. He just felt like he wasn't supposed to.

"The drug should wear off soon."

"Sir, he's stirring."

"Wonderful. Stand him up."

A moment later Sherlock felt a rough hand forcefully lift his head up so it was facing John. "Open your eyes." He hissed with authority.

Sherlock hesitantly obeyed, painstakingly lifting his eyelids and focusing on John. It didn't seem real.

John was just barely opening his eyes, confusion and fear was shown on his face all too evidently.

He was being held up by the two guards so his face was about level with Sherlocks stooped form.

Sherlock watched his eyes for recognition, but found none, instead he saw the doctors instinct to help kick in as he blinked his eyes a few more times before speaking. "You have to let me help him, he's hurt!"

The man holding Sherlock's face laughed, "Doctor Watson, don't you know who this is? The great consulting fraud?" With each word of the title, the torturer twisted his lit cigarette further into the skin of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock let out a choked sound as he tried to twist his head away from his assaulter.

John's eyes widened in realization. He had too many emotions crowding his fave to all be named. Sherlock was dead! But this prisoner did slightly resemble him. But it wasn't possible.

"Sherlock Holmes is dead and not a fraud." Was all he said, unwavering confidence in the second part, but doubt in the first.

"His death was just one more lie on top of the rest of them." Said the man with almost sarcastic sympathy. "Come and examine him yourself."

Sherlock tried to yank his head out if the mans firm grasp, but his captors grip just tightened on his jaw.

The two guards surrounding John each took a step back after one removed the doctors handcuffs.

"And don't try anything funny. We won't hesitate to kill you both."

John took a wary step towards the broken body hanging before him. He didn't want this to be Sherlock. This dying man in front of him couldn't really be his best friend.

The doctor carefully removed the guards heavy grip off of Sherlocks face, and held it up in his own gentle hand instead.

Despite the bruises, blood and beard, and most if all the lost look in his eyes; John let out a painful gasp at the realization of the identity of the body he held in his hand.

John was then yanked back by the guards and Sherlocks head dropped effortlessly back onto his chest.

"Now doctor Watson, it does seem as though you don't know what Mr Holmes was doing here, but I do think you might want to persuade him to tell us, or it seems you might be put in an uncomfortable position."

John gulped and tried speaking, but it took a couple tries to not let all his tears fall into his words. "S-sherlock, yeah, Sherlock." He tried quietly.

Sherlock's lack of response earned a sucker punch to Johns stomach. The blow made John gasp and bend over before he straightened himself out and understanding the still tried again, significantly louder. "Sherlock, um, please."

Sherlock stayed unmoving and John was punched again, this time across the jaw.

John grunted and grit his teeth. "He won't answer me unless you let me care for him first. Let him down and let me care for him and you'll get better results!" He lashed out the seemingly head goon.

The man sneered but nodded at one if the guards to obey.

"And bring me some medical supplies!" John added.

"You have until tomorrow, and you're under video surveillance." The man spat on the ground in front if Sherlock before he turned on his heels and left. If this is what it took to get information for his boss, he'd go along with it.

Sherlock fell to the ground with an echoed thud. His tense muscles finally able to relax for the first time in weeks. The feeling was enough to sweep the detective into unconsciousness.

Hope you enjoyed! Also, this is after the reichenbach fall, but before season 3! (Which is, by the way, utterly fantastic! Can't wait for his last vow!)