Amplification Part Five

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Rating: NC17 sexy times and see other warnings

Warnings: References to past rape, attempted rape and sexual abuse

Sequel to 'Sherlock's Bane' (link here

.net/s/6705082/1/Sherlocks_Bane).

Other parts here: .net/s/7363369/1/Amplification

Disclaimer: Belong to the brilliant minds of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss & Stephen Moffat. I'm simply borrowing…

Summary: Six months on, Sherlock and John are still dealing with the repercussions of Sherlock's attack, when new revelations force it all to the surface once more.

Author's Notes: Just watched Scandal in Bohemia and am back in the wonderful world of Sherlock again. Enjoy!

It was the kind of morning in which sales in wood fire would increase, while, conversely, environmentalism conservatism would steeply decline. Standing on the banks of the Thames, at 6.30 in the morning, was akin to standing in the water itself. The wind bit harshly into Jim's flesh. He may as well have been standing naked in the damp shoreline. His thick winter clothes seemed to give no protection whatsoever.

Movement, to his left.

The man always moved with a stealthy grace. If Moriarty were any other man, he wouldn't have heard him coming swiftly towards him.

He turned and affixed a reptilian smile to his face.

"To what do I owe this unwanted pleasure?"

The other's smile was equally icy.

But then, this is the ice man.

"Where's the tape?"

"Do you think attempting to blackmail me will force me to talk?" Moriarty had to admit, he was rather amused.

"You're here, aren't you?"

Moriarty's smile faded.

"Lestrade is a very good inspector. It won't take much for him to connect the dots."

Don't play this game, ice man.

"You already know the power that I have-"

"And you know my power. Now, I ask you again. Where is the tape?"

"It's been sent to a… special place." The grin returned to his face. "I figured, seeing as Sherlock has the starring role, he should at least be able to watch it."

For the first time, an emotion broke through the cold calm of the brown eyes. Moriarty was delighted to think that the man might actually try and hit him. Both locked eyes a long moment.

"Goodbye, Mr. Moriarty."

Mycroft took his leave.

Moriarty was unconcerned. He flicked open his mobile. Sherlock hadn't replied to the text. But he would.

And he had to be prepared.

###

Sherlock carefully removed himself from the bed, glancing down at the sleeping Watson. For a moment, he felt warmth flood through him. It was an odd feeling… loving someone, caring for them… being loved in return. So much more complex than the finer workings of the intellect. He leant down and kissed John on the forehead. The man didn't move. Sherlock allowed a ghost of a smile to flit across his lips, before he moved to the wardrobe, grabbing clothes and shoving them on.

He was not a particularly deep sleeper, ears attuned to the smallest of vibrations. When his mobile went off at 6am, he instantly awoke and reached out to read it.

You must be very confused. Meet me at the Barney Road Warehouse at 7am and I'll explain the mystery of the train, M.

A part of Sherlock knew not to give in to temptation. Moriarty never brought anything but suffering to him. Yet, he couldn't resist the other genius.

The gratifying battle of wits.

He wrapped the red scarf John had brought for him around his neck and shoved gloves over his fingers, looking down to John, once more.

If John discovered what he was doing… or rather who he was going to, he would do everything he could to stop him.

An odd sensation was building in his stomach. If Sherlock wasn't mistaken, it was anxiety… no trepidation.

Don't go! Something's wrong. Something's very wrong.

Sherlock scoffed at the voice in his head.

###

Moriarty glanced down at his watch.

7.02am…

2 minutes late. Oh dear Sherlock…tsk tsk

Footsteps sounded. Ah… so unlike his more elegant brother. But then, Mycroft was superior in so many ways.

He wasn't as fun as Sherlock, though; Moriarty had to admit.

He looked up through the rows of broken wooden crates to a wary looking Sherlock walking towards him.

He appeared to be holding no weapon, this time.

"Where are your goons?" Sherlock asked, as he stepped closer. His face was stubbled, his hair messed about. Bed hair.

"Just itty bitty me."

"I can't believe that."

"It's true! Though you'll never believe me, will you? Life's so unfair." He pouted.

"So why am I here?"

Moriarty recalled Sherlock's moans of pleasure the night before, as his dear doctor pounded into him.

"I'm going to tell you everything, Sherlock. Consider it a… favour.

"What kind of favour?"

"The man who was killed on the train was a terrorist-"

"If you're going to tell me something I already know-"

"He secretly installed a camera… in the lab in which you work."

Sherlock's entire body froze. "Excuse me?"

"This is what your brother's been hiding from you. They picked up his partner, who spilled all the details. They were planning a terrorist attack on a hospital and set up the camera to collect information. Of course, it was called off. Not before a certain, rather interesting scene was recorded onto tape."

"Where's the tape now?" Though his body was still completely still, his eyes flashed with emotion. Ah, how alike the two Holmes brothers' were.

"I have it."

Sherlock continued to stare at him, expression unfathomable. "What do you want?"

Moriarty smirked. Here was the moment. He started to surround Sherlock, a shark circling its prey.

"Answer me this, Sherlock…I need to know the truth, because I got involved in the situation on the presumption that you, the virgin, was raped."

This time, Sherlock couldn't hide his flinch. "I was raped."

"Really? Because I couldn't see a rape victim giving to John Watson what you offer up every night."

An unknown emotion flashed in the pale eyes.

"You don't know anything about me and John."

Moriarty moved closer, whispering into his ear. "I've seen you, Sherlock."

He watched his victim's face intently. Sherlock was giving nothing away, but for his eyes.

"The man who was supposed to read the meter… he set up…a secret camera… in our room."

Moriarty laughed and patted him on the back. "Bravo!"

Sherlock's breath started to become exerted, his eyes focused on a far away point.

"Ah yes… you were breathing heavily like that when your doctor fucked you last night. Your legs all wrapped around him-"

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's interesting…" Moriarty started to circle again. "Two cameras. Same view point."

"You were raped yourself. How can you-?"

Moriarty felt a suddenly ugly rush of temper. He stalked up to Sherlock and grabbed him around the throat.

"Don't you ever talk about-"

He was stopped by a sudden knee to the stomach. Winded, he dropped to his knees.

"You're sick. And I'm leaving."

"Sherlock…" Moriarty gasped. "You still don't know where the tape is."

Sherlock stalked back and grasped him by the hair, lifting his head up. "Tell me or I swear I'll break your god damned neck."

Moriarty grinned, leant forward and bit Sherlock hard in the upper thigh. Shame, he'd been going for his groin. Yelping in shock, Sherlock let go of his hair and stumbled back.

"Now now, this isn't the way this is going to go." Moriarty stood. "Breaking my neck won't tell you where the tape is. And I can withstand all types of torture."

"What do you want?" Sherlock cried out, this time his frustration evident in his face.

Moriarty felt a delicious tingling rush through him. The air was heavy with anticipation. He allowed the time to linger, relishing in it.

"You. I want you to give me what you gave to Toll. What you've been giving to the doctor."

Sherlock started again with the exerted breathing that already had Moriarty's blood pumping, particularly in one area. His face whitened.

"Don't do this." He whispered.

Moriarty stepped forward. In reaction, Sherlock took a step backwards.

"I respect you. You're a great adversary. Rape is beneath you."

"You truly disappoint me, Sherlock. I thought you were truly my equal. Now I discover you're just a slut."

"DI Toll raped me. You know it. That's why you helped me out before. Because it happened to you."

Oh no, don't even start. You have no idea what I went through.

"Do you know what I did, after it happened to me? After I got over all the shock and the anger. I found the biggest, toughest man I could. And I fucked him. You know what? He loved it. He was begging me for more."

It suddenly occurred to Moriarty how like a child Sherlock could look, at times, particularly now… his vulnerability present with every inch of his being.

"It'll be ok." He felt Sherlock tremble as he ran a finger down his cheek. "You'll enjoy it. You won't ever go back to your Watson. It's you and me, Sherlock." He suddenly grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders, forcing their bodies together, for the genius to feel his excitement. Sherlock was now shaking all over.

"Please… don't…"

To finally see the great genius at his mercy. He grabbed his chin and forced his tongue into his mouth, half expecting to be bitten as he sloppily kissed him, his hands freely touching his body. On Sherlock's part, but for the shaking, he was oddly slack in his arms. No matter; he'd respond soon enough.

He sucked lightly on his ear, and then whispered. "I'm gonna have you moan for me, as I fuck you. You're gonna love it."

"Get off me!" Sherlock suddenly pushed him back with great force.

For a moment, Moriarty could only stare at him, and then with a roar, he launched himself at him.

"No! You're mine!" He grabbed Sherlock and spun him around, slamming him face first against a crate. Moriarty was on him in an instant, pushing him forward, as he scrambled to undo his trousers.

"No!" Sherlock cried out brokenly.

A voice screamed "No, stop!" over and over. It took Jim a moment to realize it was his own, so separate was he from the hideous pain and humiliation; from the mocking laughter.

Moriarty suddenly jumped back, releasing Sherlock, the fever broken.

What the hell had just happened? He felt a sickened feeling rise in his stomach. Sherlock swiftly turned. Moriarty took the punch to the face gratefully.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" The kick sent him flying against one of the crates.

"It's ok." Moriarty put his hands up in a surrender gesture. "I wont hurt you…. Anymore."

It was then that he noticed Sherlock's eyes. They were overly bright, as though he was holding back tears.

"The video has been sent to 221b Baker Street. It's the only copy."

Sherlock opened his mouth, as though to say something, then appeared to think the better of it. He turned to walk away and Moriarty let him, lost in his own anguished thoughts.

###

John wasn't too surprised to find the side of the bed empty. Sherlock often got up before him to work downstairs.

Only, he ventured downstairs to discover an empty room.

And some fierce knocking at the front door.

"Alright, alright." He grumbled, wrapping his dressing gown further around him as he answered.

A small boy stood on the other side, no older than ten.

"Yes?"

"Ah… I was told to give you this." The boy handed over what appeared to be a video tape."

"Excuse me?"

"A man came up to me in the street and gave me 5 pounds to give you this."

"Is this a joke?" John looked around for the hidden cameras.

"No joke."

John frowned. "Ok."

As soon as he took the video off the child, he rushed off. John closed the door and looked at the tape. Odd, certainly. No one used videos any more. Yet, and much to Sherlock's irritation, he insisted on keeping a video recorder.

He sat down on the lounge chair and studied it intently. It appeared to be simply a normal tape.

Still, a voice told him. May be best to give it to one of Lestrade's team.

Nonsense! Whoever heard of a bomb tape?

Heart hammering, John knelt before the video machine and switched it on, placing the tape inside and turning the television on.

There was static a moment, before a laboratory setting came up, a very familiar figure in the centre.

John felt an odd anxiety build in his stomach.

Another man walked into the scene. John recognized him immediately.

"No." He said quietly. "Oh god, no." He averted his eyes, as the man started to beat Sherlock.

He clutched at his stomach, revulsion filling his body. He had an odd feeling as to what this was. Only he didn't want to know, didn't want to see.

"What the hell is this?"

On the screen, the man was ripping at Sherlock's clothes. Thankfully, there was no sound but he could read the terror in his beloved's eyes.

No, he couldn't do it. Refused to watch Sherlock be defiled. With a shaky hand, he pressed stop on the remote.

"Oh god." His stomach twisted. He rushed over to the sink in time to be sick into it. So intent was he on his revulsion, he didn't even hear the front door open.

"I take it you saw the video." The voice spoke, after he'd finished. John jumped and turned. Mycroft stood before him.

"What the hell is that?" John realized he hadn't even attempted to clean up the mess he'd made.

"I'll explain everything. But first, I need a favor. I need to watch the contents of that video."

"Are you sick? Why would you-?"

Something hardened in the usually calm brown eyes. "I need to see what was done to my baby brother."

"It's in the past." John flailed. "We just need to move on. All of us."

"I need to see what that bastard did."

"He's dead."

Mycroft continued to stare at him.

"Fine. Do what you want. I don't care. Just… I won't be in the room when you…" He rushed upstairs to his mobile, hoping to see a message there. Sure enough, and to his relief, there was.

Just went out for some fresh air. Be back soon.

Fresh air? John looked to the bleak weather outside.

He sat on the bed, his head in his hands. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, not really thinking. Not wanting to.

Just wanting to escape…

Oh Sherlock. When does it end?

The sound of the front door closing shook him from his daze. He stood up and walked to the bedroom door only to have it opened for him, a frantic Sherlock rushing into the room.

"Sherlock?"

The genius ignored him, as he pulled a chair from the writing desk.

"Sherlock what are you-?"

Sherlock stood on the chair and unscrewed the light bulb, taking it out.

"Sherlock! Please, can you-?"

Sherlock turned to face him. Two things were immediately apparent. The first was the shallow cuts across Sherlock's face. The other was the small device in Sherlock's hand.

"What's going on?"

Sherlock shook his head, slammed the metallic object on the ground and proceeded to stomp on it.

"Sherlock what is that? Sherlock stop!" He went to grab his arm. Sherlock snarled and drew back. For a moment, his eyes blazed with such fury that John was certain he was about to be hit. Then, the charge died from the beloved face.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I know you have the tape. I know because Moriarty told me."

John already knew the answer to his next question. "He did that to you, didn't he?" He indicated the cuts on his face.

Sherlock nodded.

"And this?" He pointed to the smashed device littering the ground.

Sherlock closed his eyes. "I need to talk to Mycroft."

He abruptly departed the room. John could only stare after the space he'd left, a moment, utterly bamboozled.

He rushed after his lover, skipping two steps at a time.

"You have the tape?" He asked Mycroft.

"What did he do to you?"

Sherlock shook his head, reached his arm out.

Mycroft's lips down turned in a slight frown but he handed the tape over. Both Mycroft and John were silent as Sherlock threw it into the fireplace, where coals from the night before still hadn't burnt out.

"John stoke this for me."

"No."

Sherlock turned to face him, with a bemused expression. "Excuse me?"

"Not until someone tells me what the hell is going on."

Sherlock and Mycroft stared at each other a long moment, before the elder brother relented. "You don't need to know all the details. Suffice to say we became aware that a video camera had been secretly set up in the lab at Bart's. Certain… key people were interested in getting their hands on this tape…"

"You mean Moriarty…" John felt the sickened feeling in his stomach start to rise.

"What was that thing in the light, Sherlock?"

Sherlock was silent a long moment. "A hidden camera."

"Oh god… I feel sick." John collapsed on the couch.

Mycroft, however, continued to stare at Sherlock.

"What did Moriarty do to you today?"

"Nothing-"

"Sherlock! Don't lie to me."

"Get out!" Sherlock suddenly screamed.

Mycroft turned to John, an imploring look in his eyes. John could barely think. Someone had been secretly watching him and Sherlock. He'd never felt more violated.

"Ok… I'll take my leave." Mycroft caught John's eye again as he walked out the door. Something in that look-

Oh god…

John suddenly noticed Sherlock. Truly noticed him. The trembling carriage, the slightly exerted breathing.

Oh no please. No please.

He took a deep breath. Careful, he told himself.

Sherlock was looking blankly around the room, as though he wasn't sure of where he was.

"Sherlock." John started gently. The blank blue eyes reached his. "Did Moriarty hurt you?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Please…"

"The electrician…" Sherlock's voice was utterly toneless. "He put the camera in. Moriarty, he watched us…"

"I feel sick." John was thankful that Sherlock gave him a few moments to compose himself.

"He… I can't believe that he…I thought it was just flirting… harmless."

"Sherlock…" A part of John didn't want to hear it but he had to know. "Did he rape you?"

Sherlock closed his eyes. "No."

"Oh thank god." John walked up to him and put his arms around him, needing to be held.

"But he… he wanted to."

John pulled back, unable to suppress his horror.

"He told me he'd only tell me where the tape was if I…" the words tumbled out in a rush. "He started to kiss me and his hands were all over me… I told him to leave me alone. That's when he threw me against this carton… I could feel him up against me and I started to panic I thought he'd…"

"That bastard! That sick fucking prick!"

"Then he just stopped. It's like he was as horrified of his actions as I was. He told me the tape would be here."

"He… stopped?"

"Yes he…it was as though he was possessed. He came to his senses."

"Oh dear god. I don't know what to do. What do we do about this?"

Sherlock walked up to John and placed his arms around him, once more.

"Oh god, Sherlock." He hugged back, fiercely.

Tbc…