Greg places the tape recorder on the table, in view of Sherlock.

"If you get uncomfortable at any time, we can stop."

Sherlock nods his head in agreement, face set in determination.

Greg would be lying to himself if he said he were surprised by this. Sherlock had woken up that morning, saying that he wanted to tell the whole story of his kidnapping and Greg grabbed at the chance.

Mostly, because he feared Sherlock would back out and then they would be back at square one- with no information at all to go on.

But Sherlock starts talking and finally, Greg gets the whole story of what happened.

And it horrifies him.

His first, clear memory is of a dark room. He's hungry and cold and the mattress he is forced to sleep on lacks sheets. He's stripped down to his underpants and that's all he's been given to wear.

The door opens and it's The Man is standing there- the ever present smirk on his face.

"If you're done with all that crying, I might be nice enough to let you eat something. Won't that be good?"

Sherlock nods in agreement but there's a jarring slap to his face.

"What have I told you about manners, Sherlock?"

"Yes, sir, that would be good."

"Good boy."

He has no concept of time, and it's hard to form one, when he's placed in a dark room at the time.

The windows are boarded up, and no sunlight reaches through.

He hurts, everywhere. Sherlock is sure doesn't have a clear memory of when he wasn't in some kind of pain.

He curls up in a ball the best he can and does the best he can to fall asleep.

At least when he's dreaming, he doesn't have to worry about being hurt in some way.

Over time, their relationship changes a bit.

Sometimes, there are bedtime stories and sweets.

The meals don't change, but they come at a more regular schedule.

It makes Sherlock very confused, but it doesn't voice it.

There is cake placed in front of him, and Sherlock is both excited and fearful of it.

Sherlock doesn't touch it at first, not until he's given permission to. Shyly, (and forget the rule about not speaking unless told to) he asks what's it for.

The Man smiles at him- he doesn't bring up the broken rule, but they both know it will come up later in form of punishment.

"Today is a celebration," He explains, petting Sherlock's hair. "It's been a year since you started to belong to me."

The same thing is repeated the next year. And the next after that. Sherlock still isn't sure what it means.

Sometime, he wonders what The Man is to him. The Man constantly refers to himself as Sherlock's daddy. The boy has no idea what to make of this either, but he accepts it because it must be true.

Sherlock stares at the heavy book is placed in front of him.

"Today," The Man tells him, "you and I are going to do some studying. I think the two of us can do with an easy day."

Sherlock lets himself be hopeful- a day without any being hit or being punished for something small sounds almost too good to be true.

The boy opens up the first page I hope that brain of yours will pay attention will soak up everything like a sponge because there will be a quiz later."

For missed answers, he's forced to kneel on a pile of uncooked rice- an hour for every question he got wrong. Later he 'graduates'; made to hold heavy textbooks while kneeling on the rice. Some days, if The Man is feeling partially sadistic, it's salt instead of rice.

The salt digs into his unhealed wounds and burns.

It quickly becomes the most feared of all the punishments he's made to endure.

It's after telling this event that Sherlock stops talking, telling Greg that he's tired and wants to lie down.

Greg lets him, digesting what he's just been told.

Then, after a few hard drinks, he picks up the phone and makes a call to one John Watson.