Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

A Bit Worse	By : VulpineBeesKnees Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2624 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: We do not own/have no affiliation with BBC's Sherlock or ACD Sherlock Holmes. No profit is made from this.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Sherlock had been in and out of awareness for several hours, going deep into his mind palace and resurfacing every time he thought of it. He had just pulled himself out of his mind palace to do an assessment of his limbs, and move a little to keep them from growing stiff, when his phone chimed with his message tone. It was a video from John’s mobile. He pressed play, and sat forward to watch it.
At first the video showed only an abandoned storage area, and the picture was shaking, like someone was walking with the camera in hand. The picture stayed there for a moment, and Sherlock heard a soft announcement made from somewhere in the distance and suddenly the camera was turned back around, and the video feed was full of the girl, Mary’s face.
“You have an hour and a half to figure out where this is, or it’ll be bad for Johnny boy.” She ended it with a bright giggle.
Sherlock smiled, he knew exactly where this was, and pulling on his jacket, he headed out of the laboratory and out to catch a cab. It didn’t take the detective any longer than an hour to prepare and arrive at the abandoned storage facility.
The large garage door was halfway open and clicking on the flashlight in his hand, he stooped down to maneuver under the door and into the darkened building. His light reflected off of a mirror straight ahead of him as he stood, and further investigation showed it was a panel of mirrored glass roughly two and half meters high. between each panel was a metal structure that they were attached to, forming a wall from the mirrors, similar to a funhouse mirror maze.
Sherlock was just about to round a corner carefully when a set of lights both behind the panels, and underneath, making it hard to distinguish which way was a mirror or a passage further into the maze. Moriarty knew he was here. Slowly, he began picking his way through the maze, positive that this maze could not be the real challenge. As he made his way his heartbeat began pounding deafeningly in his ears. Something was off, and he had just begun searching for the reason why when he heard it, the sound of an electric drill.
“Sh-Sherlock!” came a strangled and frightened voice. John! The whir of the drill became a higher pitch as the speed was increased, and suddenly a blood curdling scream filled the air. His heart began thudding out of his chest, his breath coming in short gasps as he took off at a sprint, hands out in front of him to warn him of an impending wall. His vision felt blurry, and his anxiety was causing his hands to tremble as he desperately searched for the next turn to take. He was in such a frenzied state that he didn’t see the trip wire until the pressure tugged against his shin. A small explosion from both sides sent the now shattered glass of the walls straight into him. Thankfully the heavy leather of his jacket kept the larger shards from penetrating his torso, but his legs and face took several cuts as he dove forward, out of the blast. When he turned to look behind him, heavy steel walls lay behind the mirrored glass. No use trying to go around the maze then.
“SHERLOCK!” John’s voice was wavering as if he were holding back his emotion and trying to stay strong, “Help! PLEASE!” The drill stopped and the sound of a knife exiting a sheath pierced through the heavy air. The detective forced himself to his feet pulling a large piece of glass out of his thigh. It wasn’t deep but it bled weakly as he pushed onwards, keeping a lookout for more trip wires. He had avoided a few more, and was making his way forward as quickly as he could, when suddenly a panel gave way beneath his step. Six gunshots sounded and Sherlock toppled forward clutching his outer thigh. It was by sheer luck that he’d been closer to the wall instead of in the center of the path. If he had been the bullets would have pierced an artery and he could have bled out. However, it had passed clean through the tissue, and was only bleeding weakly. He grit back a cry of pain, and ripped a portion of his shirt for a makeshift bandage, and removed his belt to create a tourniquet. Breathing heavily through his nose, he felt a trickle of blood and sweat roll down his face, burning in the cuts across his cheekbones.
He took one moment to suppress the part of his brain that was sending the pain messages to his limb. It didn’t fade completely but it helped in a pinch, and soon he was on his feet again. He traversed much slower now, both blood loss and caution taking it’s toll. However, the longer he took, the louder and more desperate John’s cries became. The steady rushing beat of his heart was pounding out the words find John find John find John so hard, he was sure it would be tattooed on his chest before this ordeal was over. Although all his body wanted was to run and hurry, he knew he would be no good to John if he obtained any more injuries, so he forced himself to remain calm. Normally the state of calm was not hard to come by, but his worry for John was causing a panic he’d not felt very often before. His worries were made worse by the lights dimming the further he traversed into the maze.
The journey was slow and arduous, intensified by the piercing cries of his best friend and the blood dripping from his upper thigh. After a long while of traversing blindly save for the beam of his flashlight, not really sure if he was getting much closer or farther away as the sounds of John rose and fell no matter which way he was going, he let out a soft exhale as the pathway changed. It ended abruptly, and the detective almost panicked until he turned his light lower and found that the only way forward was through a crawlspace not much bigger than he was on his hands and knees. There was no way that this change meant anything good except that he was closer to John.
Lowering himself to his hands and knees, he placed the small flashlight between his teeth and began to crawl. A few meters down the tunnel, he was squeezing his body through a tight space, and the flashlight slipped from his lips, landing face down, and busting the bulb. He’d be blind from here on out. Taking a deep breath, the detective pressed onwards, crawling slowly and carefully until his hand landed on something sharp, and he yelped at the unexpected slice to his hand. He could feel blood pooling in it, and pulling out his phone, he shone it down the narrow space. Mixed into the concrete were pieces of glass, all sticking up, razor sharp and waiting for him to crawl onward. Sherlock let out a cry of despair and wanted to punch something. This was for John, all for the blonde doctor, and no matter what he was faced with he knew John had faced worse and was still facing worse as he sat here going on about his misfortunes. Pulling his sleeves down, he replaced the phone that he would not be able to carry in his breast pocket, and balled the leather beneath his hands.
Crawling forward, he forced himself to remain quiet even as the glass sliced through his coat and jeans. Keeping his knees and hands low so he didn’t place them on top of any big pieces, he slowly moved forward, breaking some of the taller ones with his movement. After what felt like an eternity, a light began filtering through the tunnel, and it became easier to maneuver around the glass, and another few meters from the exit, the glass stopped. The light was so bright after so long in the darkness, Sherlock couldn’t see anything as he pulled himself out into the open air, but he was on his feet quick, ready to defend himself if he needed to. He heard nothing but John’s tortured cries, and when his eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, he fell to his knees.
There in the center of the clearing on the complete other side of the storage building, was a table, and on it was only three things. A timer that was stuck on one minute, a laptop in which the screen had gone black, John’s tortured voice coming through the speakers, and an apple in which “I.O.U” had been carved.
“Oh Sherly, you didn’t honestly think it would be that easy did you?” Came Moriarty’s teasing tone. John’s cries had subsided to whimpers now, and Sherlock felt like keeling over and dying right there. How had he not known that John’s voice was distorted by speakers? How could he not hear it?
“Oh you mustn't think you’re totally to blame. You see I perfected the lovely H.O.U.N.D. compound. It’s odorless and tasteless, you don’t even know you’re breathing it in. How much do you think it will sell for hmmm?” His hideous cackle filled the room, and Sherlock was on his feet, limping to the computer. When he touched the mouse pad, it came to life, showing Moriarty standing behind John, who was blindfolded and tied to a chair. He was unharmed, but there were several things laying around him, an electric drill with no bit, a dull metal knife, and several other torture devices he’d heard, thinking they’d been used on John.
“It’s amazing what you can do to the human mind isn’t it Sherlock? Oh my... you don’t look well at all. You found some of my booby traps didn’t you? Oh goodness, you’ll have to be more careful. It’s going to be awfully hard for you to save your beloved doctor if you’re all banged up. Oh that shiner isn’t from me though, did you get in a fight with dear old Mycroft? Or perhaps his lover, the Detective Inspector?” The grey haired man ran a hand down John’s face.. He hated this man, worse than he’d hated anything in his life, and he was getting bested by him at every turn. Sherlock clenched his hands into fists, the blood from his cuts flowing freely and dribbling out to the floor.
“I suggest you quit running into them, or something bad will happen to them too. John may have most of your heart, but I believe they have pieces too. I would hate for something to happen while DI Lestrade is out on patrol....” His meaning was clear. He was to do this completely alone, and for Mycroft or Greg to interfere, it could mean their death. Sherlock felt his face go white as a wave of dizziness overtook him.
“I will find you.” he said at last, his voice cracking and hoarse from pain and fatigue, “I will find you and you will die by my hand.”
“Oh promises promises my boy. You’d better stop making ones you can’t keep.” John started fidgeting in the chair, and Moriarty pulled the blindfold away before plopping a heavy hand in his hair, forcing his face forward, “Looks like our time is all up, you’re is just starting. You have one minute to decipher which door is safe to go through. One will set the bomb off instantly, the other will let you free. However, the bomb will go off in a minute anyway, just to discourage you from trying to go back the way you came. I’ll send you the address for your next challenge if you manage to survive. Good luck Sherly!”
The screen went black, and the timer began to count down, beeping as every second ticked away. Before him was a red and blue door, on the red door, painted as if a street tagger had painted it, was the word hell, in big demonic letters. On the blue door, was painted Heaven in bright angelic lettering. It took him twenty seconds to decipher that it was a reference to his conversation with Sebastian on top of St. Barts.
‘I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t for one second think that I am one of them.’
There was an extra cord running to the door marked heaven, and Sherlock sprinted for the door marked hell. With fifteens seconds left he took a quick breath for luck and wrenched the door open. When no explosion came, he ran as fast as his wounded legs would take him out the door. However, he was still far too close to the building when it exploded and the shock wave knocked propelled him into the air and about ten meters away. The last thing he remembered before the darkness claimed him was a rain of fire coming down around him, and the thought that John was going to be very cross with him for not taking better care of his wounds.
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Bit Worse