The Return of Moriarty

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the character*

"It appears that putting Moriarty behind bars was not enough to destroy the empire. A new emperor has taken over." Gregson told Sherlock, throwing a new case file down on his desk.

"Impossible. Irene was clearly the mastermind, they couldn't continue business without her." Sherlock stated confidently. Picking up the file, he browsed it only momentarily before his confidence began to falter. "Unbelievable…" The case followed the Moriarty style to a tee. Honestly it was the exact same plan that had been used to destroy the compromise between Greece and Macedonia, the kidnapped daughter in exchange for the murder of a diplomat, triggering a domino effect that would eventually lead to war, only difference was the names of the countries. "Well whoever the new ruler is, they are not very creative. Shame really. I detest open-and-shut case." Sherlock threw the file back on the desk.

"Creative or not, this is a serious problem. How are we going to stop another Moriarty? We just…" Gregson was interrupted the ringing of Sherlock's cell phone.

"Ah! It appears Watson is finally awake. Perhaps she will have a plan." Sherlock flipped open the phone. "Watson! I have a quiet intriguing case. I was just about to bring back to the Brownstone."

"One would think after being shot in the shoulder by an intruder, you would have installed better security." A gravelly male voice stated.

"Who is this?!"

"Especially when you have such a lovely treasure residing in your home… completely unprotected… and utterly vulnerable." The voice let out a breathy laugh.

"Where is Watson?!" It was a miracle the phone did not snap from Sherlock's grip.

"Oh no need to fret Mr. Holmes. Your dear Watson is still in her room, she has been a bit tied up since I got here." The ghostly laugh was heard again sending a chill through Sherlock's entire body. "There is a new Moriarty running the show, yet the target remains the same. I hope you find me a much… worthier opponent than predecessor. Until we speak again Mr. Holmes." The line went dead.

"I need to get to Watson." And with that Sherlock ran out of the precinct, flagged down a cab, and raced to the Brownstone.

Sherlock burst through the door of the Brownstone prepared to kill.

"Watson!" Sherlock shouted.

Silence.

"Watson!" Sherlock rush up the stairs and found the door to Watson's room shut. He slowly approached, reached for the door knob than paused. What would he find behind the door? Why hadn't she answered when he called for her? Was she hurt? Was she even alive? He closed his eyes and filled his lungs, bracing himself for the worst. He gently turned the handle and just barely cracked open the door. "Joan?" He whispered softly, praying for a reply, any sort of reply.

"Sss… Sher… Sherlock?" A soft, weak voice whispered. Could that be Joan? The answering voice was rough and fully of fear, nothing like the strong, confidence that ran through the air when ever Joan opened her mouth. Sherlock hesitated, what if it wasn't her? What if it were a trick?

"Sherlock?" The sad voice called out again, if you could call that pitiful sound calling out. "Sherlock? Is… is that you? Please… please God let that be you… Please, please whoever you are don't hurt me… please…" The voice cracked and broke into sobs as it begged. Sherlock could no longer deny it, the pathetic sounds and sobs belonged to no other than Joan. He aggressively pushed the door open the rest of the way, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

The curtains were drawn on the single window in the room, the only light came from down the hall, creepy in through the open door. Despite the darkness, Sherlock could make out the figure of Joan's naked body lying across the bed, hands bound above her head to the headboard, face turned away from the light. Her whole body was trembling from fear and the trauma she must have endured throughout the morning. Sherlock's heart nearly stopped beating as he stared at his partner, his companion, his best friend, restrained and completely vulnerable. What has he done to you? He wondered as he slowly approached the bed. Cautiously, he sat on the edge of the bed and gently reached out to stroke Joan's hair hoping to provide even the slightest bit of comfort, but the moment Sherlock's hand grazed her head Joan began to scream, struggling to get away.

"Please! Please!" She begged, her attempts to escape painfully stifled by her bonds, causing her to cry out as the cord bite deeper into her wrist. "Please, please… don't touch me anymore. Please…" A new round of sob racked through her body and he folded her body into the fetal position, make herself as small as possible.

"Joan, Joan! It's me! It's Sherlock!" He replied, speaking softly again trying to soothe her. He pulled a pocket knife out and quickly cut her bonds causing her arms to fall, too heavy for her to move. He then grabbed a quilt from the closet and laid to over her body, and carefully he moved her arms to lie more comfortably with the rest of her body. "Joan… my dear Joan… you are safe now. I will not allow any more harm to come to you."

"Sherlock…" She breathed gently. "Oh God, Sherlock! He… he just burst through the door! Before I could move… he… he was already on top of me…" She slowly turned, wincing with each movement, to bury her face in Sherlock's chest and burst into tears.

"Ssshhhh… it is alright. You are safe Joan. You are safe." He continued to chant this mantra over and over until she finally ran out of tears. Together they sat silently, Joan gripping Sherlock's shirt as if were her only life line preventing her from floating back into the nightmare that was her morning, and Sherlock stroking Joan's hair as if she were the most fragile, precious treasure a person could ever possess.

"Joan…" Sherlock whispered reluctantly. He did not wish to disturb her anymore but he must know. "Joan? What… what did he do to you?" Her entire body tensed and she began to once again tremble. She gripped his shirt tighter and very softly, so that he was not sure that he heard her correctly, she murmured her answer.

"He… he raped me…"