I'm pretending to read SM101 but I'm just looking at the pictures. Sherlock is leaning against me and he is reading the book. He hmms and nods to himself occasionally and I try to work out which bit he's reading.

I'm not looking at the pictures because I'm dim, I'm just nervous and they're... distracting. It's 7pm and I know Freiman will be here soon. Lestrade was not happy about this turn of events.

"Let me get this straight... you're going to go to somewhere you don't fucking know with a man we know murders people?" he frowns, pretending to get the point now. "Oh right... I see, that's all right then. Great. Fine." He nods and then gives me a look which clearly indicates he thinks I've got serious mental issues. I wince.

"Look, I know. It's not ideal." Jesus, I even sound like Sherlock now. I glance sideways at Sherlock and he grins. "Can't you give me a wire or something?" I'm thinking of Sydney Doyle and the way we caught the Monopoly murderers. Lestrade shakes his head.

"These are wily men John. They've killed a member of the Secret Service, they'll rumble that easily." A small part of me goes very cold. Oh shit.

So here I am trying to concentrate on a picture of a man's genitals strapped in some kind of leather bondage device. It's not distracting enough and that's bloody worrying.

"John, I've asked Mycroft to help." Sherlock isn't looking at me but I know he's worried about me too. He hasn't suggested I text Freiman and back out and I wonder if he thinks I'll be offended if he did but I'm surprised he's asked Mycroft. I thought he'd rather die than ask his brother for anything.

He leans forward and gets something out of his trouser pocket. It's a small, clear box and in it is a tiny, flat black square. He shakes it out onto his hand.

"What's that?" he turns it over and I see some gold circuitry etched on the underside. It's beautiful in a sinister way.

"It's a GPS tracker alert. Brand new tech according to M," he smirks at his joke, he's remembered Bond. "It goes under your watch strap; you snap it to activate it." He passes it to me; it's so light I can't feel it in my hand. I go to snap it. He puts out his hand.

"No, if they've got any tracking technology they'll pick it up right away if you do it now. You have to wait until you're inside. Unless you need help." He grimaces, he doesn't like this but it's the only chance we have to stop Freiman and save his latest victims. I nod.

"I'll be okay." I reassure him, feeling less than certain myself. He screws his face up like he's in pain. Then he grabs my face, I nearly drop the chip in my palm. He presses his mouth to mine; it's a desperate, needy act. I feel his tongue playing over my lips, a familiar tremor of excitement runs through me despite my fear. We kiss for a few minutes, both of us breathless; it reminds me of the times before going out to fight. How people burn more brightly before they face death.

My phone beeps and we break apart. I get up, put on my jacket and slip the tiny black square under my watch strap. He kisses me again, I look at my phone. It's Freiman.

"Outside. Blue BMW." As I leave the flat I look back at Sherlock. He is sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands in his dark hair. I can't see his face.

It's Damien in the car. He nods to me and I get in the backseat.

"Evening." My voice sounds loud in the silence of the car. He starts the engine, glancing at me in the rear view mirror and we pull away.

We weave our way through London and I'm soon lost. If I had Sherlock's knowledge of the city it'd be fine. I vow that, if I ever get out of this alive, I'll make him tell me everything he knows about the streets.

After about three quarter of an hour's drive, during which Damien says nothing, he pulls the car into what appears to be an abandoned warehouse. It's so bloody stereotypically kidnapsville that I almost laugh. When he gets out of the car, taking a revolver from the passenger seat I think twice about my amusement. If I didn't realise what deep water I was in before, something about the way he holds that gun, his posture, makes it quite clear.

"Come on John, this way." He sounds relatively amiable until he points with the muzzle into the building, indicating for me to go first. I walk ahead and he switches lights on as we enter the building.

Bright fluorescent strips throw a cold, blue light over the concrete and breezeblock. For a chilling moment it reminds me of Laura's underground garage. I try not to think about the difference between this kidnap and the one we staged there.

I keep walking, working under the premise that he'll stop me when he wants to. We walk past grey metal doors, our footsteps muffled by the dimpled concrete under our feet. From a long way off I hear a scream. It might be female but then I know from experience that we all sound pretty similar when we're in pain. My stomach goes cold and I get that all too familiar cold, sick feeling which means adrenaline is flooding my system. Inside me some creature wakes up. I know him. But the last time I saw him was a long time ago in a place much warmer than this. I welcome his presence because it means that I have chance of getting out of this alive. Some part of John Watson shuts down, goes into hibernation, or hiding.

We are walking towards the screaming. I glance back at Damien who has a broad grin on his face. I twist my mouth into a smile and he pats me on the shoulder in an almost friendly way.

"All part of tonight's fun John." I nod and smile. As I turn I think, you're the first one I damage if I can't get out of this.

We enter a room. Freiman is there sitting behind a metal desk he glances up from something he is reading and smiles widely. I notice with a sick stomach that he's casually reading a newspaper.

"Hey John, good to see you again. We're just warming up." He jerks his head to a door behind him, there is another scream. My stomach clenches, my leg muscles tense and I try to breathe normally. "She's a screamer. Like a screamer John?" he chuckles. I force a grin.

"For a while, until it gets boring. Then you have to find something to do with their mouths." His smile is splitting his face now; he thinks he's found a kindred spirit. The screaming stops and there is sobbing.

"Are we sharing with any others?" I ask, hoping I sound disgruntled. He looks at me warily and then his face relaxes.

"Me, you, Damien and another acquaintance. It's hard to keep a secret in a crowd you know? I like to keep things intimate." He jerks his head again where there is a sound of skin on skin and more sobbing. In my pocket I clench my fist. There's nothing I can do yet. It's then I notice that there is someone else in the room.

He's about sixteen and his mouth and hands are taped up. His eyes are closed and he looks resigned to his fate. His shirt is torn and hanging by two buttons and the knees of his jeans are ripped open and I can see his legs, scarred and bloody. He is shaking. Freiman follows my eyes.

"We weren't sure what you preferred John." he chuckles. I nod.

"He'll do nicely," I menace. The boy moans and it's fear in his voice. I can't do anything to indicate to him that I won't hurt him and I hate myself for being part of this ordeal for him. Damien hits the boy viciously across the face with his gun hand. He props the boy up and hits him crunch of knuckle on bone reverberates around the sparse room. I feel myself slipping further and further from civilian mode.

Freiman stands up, folds up the newspaper he's been reading. It's like he's been on a park bench and his lunch break's over. 'They all deserve to die'. The voice inside my head whispers. I nod.

"Right, my turn I think. Want to watch?" I shake my head.

"I think I'll just listen and get warmed up myself." I grin, nodding to Damien. "You going too?"

"No, he's staying with you. It's your first time John, and we've not had a hundred percent success rate with our recruits recently." Damien leers, the gun still in his hand. I raise my eyebrows.

"Oh? I thought you vetted your 'recruits' thoroughly. Bloody hell, you even went to the Tate for me." I grin, letting him know I saw his man in the gallery. He laughs.

"You're a live one Watson, we thought that pretty boyfriend of yours had kept you occupied." I shake my head and chuckle.

"Once a soldier..." he laughs and claps me on the arm, like we're the best friends in the world. The creature inside me stretches, ready, waiting. I rein it in.

"Okay. I'll give you a shout when I'm done." He lumbers into the other room and closes the door. The voice behind the door is whimpering. I clench my jaw.

"I'm not really on for an audience you know?" I say to Damien who is regarding me with open hostility now his boss has gone. He shrugs like he doesn't care. I lift my cuff and look at my watch. Surely I've seen enough to alert Mycroft? I slip a finger under the strap and press down hard in the middle of the black square. Nothing happens but then I don't know if something is supposed to happen. I turn back to Damien.

"Any chance of a drink?" he frowns and shakes his head. The screaming behind the door begins in earnest again and he laughs. I bite my lip, hoping he mistakes the expression but the fact is I cannot stand here much longer and listen to what they're doing to that girl.

Minutes stretch by like hours, she begins to plead, her voice a long stretch of 'nononononono'. I can't tell by her voice where she's from but fear and pain and humiliation are a universal language. The beast inside me, kept quiet for too long, is whispering to me that I could easily get Damien's gun, easily stop that girl's pain, that Mycroft is not coming and I must act for myself.

I can't judge time anymore, I want to huddle in the corner, put my hands over my ears, drown out that awful noise but I can't. It's all too fucking real, too near the bone. I have heard my own voice screaming like that and I can't tell who is real anymore.

In the corner the boy's silent tears roll down his face. He has wet himself and the smell is overpowering and full of fear. The girl behind the door's cries break off and I hear a sickening noise and she is silent. Damien is grinning and I can see that he has a huge hard on.

I look at my watch and we've been in this room for an hour and half, listening to them torture that girl. I have to do something.

"Want to go in?" I ask, grinning," I can deal with this here." I nod towards the boy who is making a high pitched keening sound. I can see Damien is tempted.

"Go on, we'll be fine." I give him a cheeky wink. He smiles, nods and turns his back on me. Big mistake. I let the creature out. My hand is on his chin forcing his head back and cutting off his air supply. My other hand slams down on his wrist weakening his grip on the gun and then twisting it from his grasp. At the same time I stab my boot into the back of his kneecap and he crumples forward. The girl starts screaming and I shoot him in the head.

It's a reaction, just a reaction. Training and adrenaline and fear and survival. The boy's eyes start out over his silver taped mouth. I gesture fiercely for him to be quiet. He whimpers quietly. I stand back against the doorway, waiting for it to open. If it's Freiman and the other man then I'm dead, but if it's only one of them I have a chance.

The door open and it's a man I've not met. I smack him, hard, on the temple with the handle of the gun and he goes down. He's breathing but only just. I've seen a blow like that to the temple kill a man and I wasn't holding back. I pick up the gun and, aware that this is the last thing in the world I want to do, I step through the doorway.

I don't have the words to describe what Freiman is doing, has done, to the girl. Her hair is matted to her skull with blood, one eye already blackened and swollen shut. She is naked and I can see burns and welts on her body. Her arms are fastened above her head. Her one eye is wide with fear and pain. Freiman is naked from the waist down, he turns as I come into the room and there is a moment where I watch his face change from curiosity to fear as he sees the gun in my hand.

At the last moment, with the beast raging free and death and vengeance spinning about me, I realise who I still am. I'm john Watson, I'm a doctor. I shoot him in both kneecaps and he crumples to the floor, howling in pain.

Blindly I stagger to the girl, she flinches as I come near and I soothe her with my voice. I can't manage to make a sentence.

"Shhhhh." I whisper as I unclip the hook which has cut into her wrist and she falls forward. I carry her into the next room. I can still hear Freiman whining and I shut the door on him. I strip the tape from the boy's mouth and hands. He winces but he saw what I did to Damien, the other man, and he knows I won't hurt him. He points to the table and there's a drawer. In it is the rest of the roll of tape they used on him. I tape up the concussed man and I carry the girl out of the room, motioning for the boy to follow me.

We stagger together down the concrete corridors, then gun wedged in the back of my jeans and my every sense alive and alert. I feel sick but it's the sickness that comes after battle. A sickness you welcome because it means you're still fucking alive.

The air is getting colder and I know we're reaching the outside. A strip of white light splits the darkness from a set of wide double doors. We move towards it.

We emerge into the light. It is shining on us from spotlights, so bright they hurt my eyes. Red dots swarm over us and I realise they are snipers. I almost drop the girl, Freiman had back up. In the blinding light I realise I will never see Sherlock again. An overwhelming sorrow floods my body, washing the soldier out of me, washing the adrenaline, the fight or flight. I begin to cry. A voice is shrill in the distance.

"My god! John Watson what have you been doing?" I blink, I still can't see. A figure is walking towards me, their features obliterated by the harsh glare. As they approach their own silhouette becomes the shadow in which I can see their face. It's Mycroft.

I am choking, sobbing. Someone comes and pries my fingers from the girl's cold body and they put her on a stretcher. Two men in paramedic uniform escort the boy away.

"John? John?" Mycroft's voice is soft. I look up at him, I could kiss him but it's probably not a good idea.

"Freiman's in there... I... shot his kneecaps." Mycroft's eyebrows raise but he doesn't say anything. I realise I'd better tell him more. "And... there's a bloke. Damien. He's dead." Mycroft nods like he doesn't need me to explain anything so I don't. He takes my elbow and leads me to the back of an ambulance. A paramedic shines a light in my eye and gives me a cup of tea. It all feels faintly ridiculous, like a bad dream. One minute I'm killing a man and the next I have weak tea in Styrofoam cup. I almost laugh but the doctor in me knows that this is shock.

The last straw is when someone puts an orange blanket over me. I feel the hot tears well up in my eyes and splash down my chest, soaking into the waffle blanket. I welcome the body wracking sobs. They mean I'm still here.

I sit for what feels like hours, feeling my bum go numb on the cold metal ridge of the ambulance step. I try to rub out the picture of the girl, bloody and broken, of Freiman's obscene frame gloating over her. It's not going to be easy. I sigh, knowing I have just added to my library of nightmare material.

Blue and red lights are flashing across the wet concrete, illuminating the wire fences and the wet bushes which surround us. Dark sleek cars, no doubt Government Issue, pull away and more take their place. People hurry about and, in the distance; I see three stretchers being brought out of the building. One has a sheet completely covering it. I close my eyes and lean against the side on the ambulance.

I hear footsteps coming towards me and, presuming it's another paramedic, I don't open my eyes. They stop a few feet away and I hear ragged breathing, someone in pain. I've seen enough pain to last me a lifetime, I clench my eyes shut and will them to go away.

"John?" his voice is dark and filled with concern. I open my eyes and he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Silhouetted by the light he seems so tall that it's like being a child again.

"Sherlock." My voice breaks and a new wash of tears come from nowhere. He hurries forward, bending on one knee to hold my hands and kiss my forehead. He puts his arms about me and holds me tightly as I sob against him.

"I...I... Damien..." he strokes my hair.

"I know John, Mycroft told me. You saved those children's lives." he pulls back and looks me in the eye.

He stands and pulls me to my feet. Together we walk across to where a car is waiting. The back door is open and he helps me inside. I am shivering and the driver passes Sherlock a thick blanket and he covers us both with it. I recognise the driver. Her hair is piled up on her head and, as she catches my eye in the rear view mirror, she smiles warmly.

"Dickinson?" I mumble. "Laura?" Sherlock puts his arm about me and pulls me into his shoulder.

"Laura lent me the car and Dickinson to come and collect you." he murmurs, kissing my temple. I let out a long breath, trying to expel all the tension from my body. As the car sets off and the low hum rumbles through my body I feel myself growing limp, tired. Amazed at my body's reaction to the tension I drift off to sleep, Sherlock wraps the blanket over our legs.

Wow. The end of the case of the Rubber Ring! Don't worry I start their new adventure tomorrow! Please let me know how this chapter went because it was hard to write all that pain, torture and tension. I am wrung out and going to bed. It'd be nice to have a happy inbox from you guys tomorrow morning!

The Baker St Irregulars! You guys have seen me safely through a oneshot, monopoly murders, evil sex traffickers and now onto who know what and I love you for it!: PrincessNala(don't worry there's more and you know how it starts!), Peachsilk (honestly, you astonish me), Darmed (hope you liek your story!), Clubba Bear, Tasty- Kate, 2cajuman2, Tanya Zsa Zsa ,Munchiees!, Aelfric's cat, Nellyington, mrs winny, Despairandcupcakechild, Mouserjb4 ,Tillif and Harpyquin and Jazzysatindoll see you at the end of the next, first chapter!

I want to dedicate this and future chapters to Darmed who just found out her cancer has made a sneak attack. Can I ask you all to wish her well as a fellow Sherlock/John lover?

Love my OHOB and my darling Reggie, Cxx