Promised the Dark, or, Indestructible. Chapter One
Title: Promised the Dark, or, Indestructible. Chapter One
No. 1 of the Indestructible Case!fic Adventure series.
Author: Ghislainem70
Word Count 651
Rating: PG-13
Warning: depictions of violence; implied non-explicit non-con scene in final chapter
Summary: Sherlock is dead, and Moriarty is holding John captive.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All honours to Messrs Gatiss, Moffat, BBC et al.
Chapter One
John was in a room with no windows and no doors.
He knew this because he had been pacing the room for a long time, feeling carefully, seemingly a perfect cube. The ceiling was too high to reach, probably there was an opening up there somewhere from which he had been dropped, but there was no way to reach it and no amount of straining revealed even the hint of an outline. One small opening in the floor for toilet and drainage purposes and a smooth, deeply recessed metal button he could push and a trickle of water spurted from a tiny opening in the wall, barely big enough to put a finger in.
A featureless black box with slick, seamless walls. Cold that radiated through and absorbed his body heat. Ventilation, somehow, silent and almost undetectable.
* * *
There had to be a purpose to this confinement, what he could not imagine. He was not drugged. He had been provided some unidentifiable drinks and bland custards in soft pouches such as were given to children, no straw, that presumably were nourishing. These, too must be somehow dropped from the ceiling but he never heard anything, only felt them appear at his bare feet at regular intervals.
The first few pouches John had tried to tear into strips, hoping to begin a ligature to use as a weapon. But the pouches were engineered to tear only into small useless fragments and the effort was a failure.
If Moriarty wanted him dead, given his situation, he would be dead already. And right now, he almost wished he was. Almost. Because he could not imagine any reason Moriarty would need, or want, to use him for anything. Not now. Now that Sherlock was dead.
* * *
The single solitary reason John had any will at all to explore his surroundings, forcing his brain to think, think, was the burning for vengeance that had taken him over like a parasite, undeniable and utterly overpowering. When he had avenged Sherlock, then would be the time for mourning, an endless mourning that he could not, would not permit himself to imagine.
If there had been any light at all, John’s face would be seen set in a brutal, soulless mask with death in its eyes. All humanity, warmth, kindness, all of the tender qualities that made John John, had been stripped away. And he was glad.
Finally, in this moment, with Sherlock gone forever, John felt himself in some way closer to him than ever in life. For he was becoming like Sherlock, the Sherlock before John, the Sherlock who could go for months and even years at a time permitting himself no more emotion than a robot.
I’m a high functioning sociopath, John whispered, baring his teeth at the darkness.
* * *
He had been stripped of his clothes, of course. Nothing from which to make a rope, or anything resembling a weapon. But as John paced in the blackness, the image of Golem’s hands appeared. Just hands, lethal hands. He started doing pushups on his knuckles. Then his fingertips. He periodically slapped the wall, making his hands ache. He spent what felt like hours every day doing the most challenging calisthenics he could invent, as silently as possible, although he was certain that even in the darkness he was being watched.
He was pretty sure he was not being fed enough to maintain this for long. He hoped it would be long enough. He could feel his body changing, bulky muscles becoming iron cords, all fat melting away, becoming slender and hard. Like Sherlock.
He never let himself think of Sherlock, all visions of Sherlock’s death locked away in a strongbox deep inside. Instead, he ruminated on every word, every image from his brief encounters with Moriarty.
"No one ever gets to me," Moriarty gloating, preening.
We’ll see about that, John promised the dark.
* * *
To be continued . . .
Listen to Weapon of Choice: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0PWnLmlHZM&feature=related
Next Chapter (Two): ( Here )