Chapter 12- Not A Fairytale

A/n: I'm sorry. I haven't updated in a while. Sorry about that. So here's the next chapter. I'm afraid this one is quite dark and quite short too so sorry about that as well. I'm saying sorry a lot. Anyway I'll let you get on with the reading! X

JW

"Rise and shine Doctor," the voice was there when I woke up. The voice I had come to recognise as Moran's.
I was shattered and aching and so goddamn thirsty it was unbelievable. Not that I could do anything about it with my mouth bound. The blindfold seemed particularly tight as well. I raised my head.
"That's it, " he coaxed, "I would say good morning but, well, that would only apply to me," the silky voice snickered. I strained my wrists in a frugal attempt to loosen the wire. It hurt, the rope digging into my skin.
I heard footsteps approaching me. Loud, heavy, assured footsteps of a soldier. I knew that walk.
They got closer and closer and I stiffened.
Suddenly the gag was loosened and the material slipped down. My mouth was free.
I licked my dry lips and took deep lung fulls of air that didn't taste like the musty material, immediately feeling just that little bit better.
I was determined to remain calm.
In my head I kept thinking about what Sherlock would do. He certainly wouldn't stay here and let me walk to my death. He would find a clever way out. And I needed to too.
In the end, I knew this had been going happen anyway, didn't I really? It had been iminant from the very first letter. All of it leading to one moment.
"I brought you water," the voice said cheerfully. It was false. False cheer.
I felt the rim of a bottle on my lips and I took a tentative sip.
And then, I couldn't stop. I was just so desperate for it.
Finally, I forced myself to stop, gasping for breath. The voice laughed cruelly.
"Didn't want you dying too early did we?"
I finally summoned up the courage to speak.
"Where's Sarah. What have you done to her?"
I got silenced by the unmistakable feel of a finger pressed roughly to my lips. I resisted the urge to bite it. That would probably end with me getting hit.
"Too many questions, doctor," the voice purred, a hit of menace being covered up by the false brightness, "That's exactly why I gagged you in the first place. Now, stay quiet, or I'll have to make you suffer, though-" he paused, as if pondering this plan, "That would be no trouble for me," He sounded excited. That excitement that only came with madness. That excitement I had heard in Moriarty's voice too, as he strapped me to a bomb and waited for the fireworks.
I suppressed a shudder. I was acting calm. I was acting calm.
"I left a little note for your dear detective," the voice said conversationally, though it was trembling slightly, "left him a little puzzle for him to solve. He does like puzzles doesn't he? Little life- risking games?"
I said nothing, my jaw clenched. He laughed at me again.
"Don't worry doctor, I wont let you miss a second of it. You can watch him play. You can watch him, and know you can't do anything to help him. Like that poor little soldier that you couldn't stop from dying. Doesn't that hurt you doctor?"
Fury was burning inside me. I wanted to lash out. I wanted to bloody kill this man. How the hell did he know about that?
And still the worst wasn't over yet.
"Doesn't it hurt?" he purred.
"Shut the hell up," I growled at him. He snickered. I knew what he was doing. He was targeting me emotionally. Tearing the small defense I had built since Sherlock had come back apart bit by bit.
"That soldier died, doctor. He was your friend wasn't he?"
The memories were coming back. Flooding my mind. The blood, the sand, the heat. Watching the light fade from his green eyes. Watching him leave whilst I tried desperately to save him. To stop the blood and start his heart...
I realised I was shaking, and he was laughing.
"All you do doctor, is watch people die. The soldier, the detective, and now the detective again, though for real this time. There will be no false blood. No jump, just death. But don't worry, you probably won't be there to see it. Depends on my mood," he added as an afterthought.
"What are you going to do to him?" I whispered, my voice trembling. The depression seemed to be coming back. I was sinking. I had to stop it. I couldn't give up. Not now. My heart was aching. The hole I thought had healed slightly since Sherlock came back hurt like hell.
"He killed Jim," he said. His voice was deadly now, "so I want to watch him suffer as much as possible. That is how it's going to end. No fairy tales. No happy endings. I will make. him. suffer,"
The footsteps disappeared and a door slammed.
I tried hard not to get worked up. But my resolve soon broke. The panic, the fear, the loss and worse, the nightmares all came back, and left me shuddering in the dark. He hadn't put my gag back in place.
He wanted to hear me cry.
I refused to cry. No matter how much pain I was in emotionally at the moment.
I twisted my wrists again, trying desperately to get them free. The rope seemed to get more painful the harder I tried. It was hopeless.
If only I could see where I was. If only I had a phone!
I felt useless, weak and pathetic.

A/n: I hope you enjoyed it! A review would make my day! X