He takes you with him down to the cellar, following the doctor, Lestrade following them. They enter a room you may recognise from all the white and yet signs of decomposition in the walls. In the centre is the table you were strapped to as well as the machine that burned your brain. John lets go of you for a second to examine it while the doctors tell him how the room is locked and no one would have been able to get you in here last night.
You'll hear whistling in the hallway behind you, a tone that seems to attract your ears and no others and if you look you'll recognise the janitor mopping the floors. He looks up and gives you an evil grin before tapping against his broom in a code;
I see you. Standing. Disgusting. Floor. Now. Where you belong.
He crouches on the floor. Doesn't sit, just sits there trying to breathe. He doesn't speak doesn't identify the room. Even though the recognition is glaring at him. Like Moriarty's eyes.
"Sherlock? Sherlock, what's wrong..." He kneels down beside you, hand on your back. Greg and the doctor stare down, confused. "Sherlock, speak to me. Are you remembering something?"
More tapping. This time through the pipes that someone must be hitting from the other room. To the others it's just pipes clanging as usual but you hear.
You do not deserve to address by name. You now address everyone as Sir. Or My Lord. You are beneath us all Zero.
And somewhere in another room, Moriarty laughs as if this game could not get any more fun.
Good little number. Remember to crawl when in his flat. You're just his pet.
"Do you want us to examine him?" one of the doctor's asks.
John doesn't need to think twice; "No. He's discharged. I think I've seen all I need." He picks you up off the floor and tucks you close; "We're leaving now."
"You'll want that CCTV footage, John?" asks Greg.
"Do you mind staying here and sorting that out, Greg, I need to get him home. I'll get a taxi." He's eager to get you out of there a.s.a.p.
He rushes you out of the hospital and quickly hails a cab. When inside he says the destination to the cabbie and then looks at you.
"I'm not leaving you alone in here this time, don't worry." He says, clutching your hand, "Did you get some sort of flashback in there? Was that it?"
"Stop that, Sherlock. Why are you calling me that? You know my name. Use it. Just like I use yours, yeah?" He takes your hand and puts it to your heart; "Sherlock Holmes," he moves it to his own; "John Watson. Got it?"
"That's better." He pats your hand, glad that you're beyond all hope.
As the taxi begins to pull away you may just glance out the window past John to see the janitor who resembles your owner is now a gardener tending the flowers outside the hospital. He produces a handgun from his jacket and grins at you, aiming it at John while he's looking away but not firing as the taxi drives off. But you see. You know.
[[ooc: Feel free to bring in Moriarty on your own whenever you wish. I like the thought of Sherlock needing to feel just as obedient and submissive to John and John just being clueless]]
He almost says 'Look out!' but the words freeze at the sight of his Owner, he just looks around fearfully, then squeezes your hand as though to reasurre himself. He inclines his head, an acknowledgement of your words.
John is non the wiser of the threat as the cab drives on. He just assumes you're still anxious after the hospital.
The smell of hot foot hits you both as you enter 221B. Mrs Hudson is in the kitchen making the dinner as she promised.
"Oh good, you're back in just in time. Did you have any luck at the hospital?" she asks while bustling around as if they'd just gone out for a pleasant visit.
"Enough, you could say." He lets go of your hand and takes his jacket off.
He takes the plate and eats as though he's been half-starved. Though after about three bites, he slows down, eating as slow as possible, as though he has to keep it with him. Savor it.
Before his Owner decides he deserves to be starved again. "Nothin's wrong. Just hungry."
"Well get up off the floor then and eat at the table." says John, hating the sight of you on the floor like an animal; "If you get hungry, just ask, or get yourself something to eat from the fridge....Not the thumbs though."
John sits beside you, half eating his own food and half studying you as you eat yours. Like a prisoner eating his daily rations.
"We've got some chocolate and mint flavoured ice cream in the fridge for Afters if you want some," he says, hoping the thought of sugar will cheer you up.
Mrs. Hudson already starts serving some near the end of dinner if you say you want it or not.
He gets up automatically, clearing his plates. Making sure the table has no crumbs, and follows you carefully.
His watchfulness may remind you of when he would read over your shoulder, only he's far less full of commentary and sarcastic confidence. In fact he forgets to respond at all.
He lets you wipe up after he washes and looks at you every now and then as he hands stuff to you. He's still rather careful as he remembers you dropping the milk but your hands seem steadier now. A little.
He detests the silence. It's like you're not here at all.
"Nothing good on T.V tonight from what I know." he speaks up, as casually as he can; "How about we just sit on the sofa for the rest of the night and I read you the rest of that book. Sound good?"
He gives another nod. "Yes, John. That does sound good."
There's nearly no enthusiasm in it. As though he'd lost it. He attempts to smile at you, but it seems to fail him.
The fact his Owner has allowed him to stay here this long with you is unusual, really. Which only is going to make the part when he takes his Zero away more painful.
John goes to fetch the Count of Monte Cristo. He comes back, Mrs. Hudson has already lit the fire before going back into her own flat. John sits down on the sofa and beckons you to sit beside him.
"Right. Same chapter with the pirates again?" he asks as you sit down.
listless
Comments
You'll hear whistling in the hallway behind you, a tone that seems to attract your ears and no others and if you look you'll recognise the janitor mopping the floors. He looks up and gives you an evil grin before tapping against his broom in a code;
I see you. Standing. Disgusting.
Floor. Now. Where you belong.
And in a split second, he's gone.
Edited at 2012-04-06 10:36 pm (UTC)
More tapping. This time through the pipes that someone must be hitting from the other room. To the others it's just pipes clanging as usual but you hear.
You do not deserve to address by name.
You now address everyone as Sir. Or My Lord.
You are beneath us all Zero.
And somewhere in another room, Moriarty laughs as if this game could not get any more fun.
He'll make him wish he was dead. Owner will...
Edited at 2012-04-06 11:25 pm (UTC)
Good little number.
Remember to crawl when in his flat.
You're just his pet.
"Do you want us to examine him?" one of the doctor's asks.
John doesn't need to think twice; "No. He's discharged. I think I've seen all I need." He picks you up off the floor and tucks you close; "We're leaving now."
"You'll want that CCTV footage, John?" asks Greg.
"Do you mind staying here and sorting that out, Greg, I need to get him home. I'll get a taxi." He's eager to get you out of there a.s.a.p.
He rushes you out of the hospital and quickly hails a cab. When inside he says the destination to the cabbie and then looks at you.
"I'm not leaving you alone in here this time, don't worry." He says, clutching your hand, "Did you get some sort of flashback in there? Was that it?"
Owner. He doesn't care if you're there or not, Sir.
Sherlock? Who is Sherlock, really?
He doesn't know who Sherlock is.
Zero. Only Zero.
[[ooc: maybe some threats against John's safety would shock him into submission?]]
As the taxi begins to pull away you may just glance out the window past John to see the janitor who resembles your owner is now a gardener tending the flowers outside the hospital. He produces a handgun from his jacket and grins at you, aiming it at John while he's looking away but not firing as the taxi drives off. But you see. You know.
[[ooc: Feel free to bring in Moriarty on your own whenever you wish. I like the thought of Sherlock needing to feel just as obedient and submissive to John and John just being clueless]]
The smell of hot foot hits you both as you enter 221B. Mrs Hudson is in the kitchen making the dinner as she promised.
"Oh good, you're back in just in time. Did you have any luck at the hospital?" she asks while bustling around as if they'd just gone out for a pleasant visit.
"Enough, you could say." He lets go of your hand and takes his jacket off.
Doesn't ask to be fed, despite the fact that he is very hungry.
Pets eat when it's provided.
John shakes his head; "He keeps doing that, I'm not sure why....Sherlock, come have some dinner, you've only eaten a piece of cake all day."
He dishes you up a plate and hands it out for you to take.
Before his Owner decides he deserves to be starved again.
"Nothin's wrong. Just hungry."
He and Mrs. H share a laugh while it's there.
The stew's delicious, but he barely tastes it. Just focuses on the fact it's hot - it'll keep him full for awhile.
He nods submissively. He'll remember to do that. Can't depend on them all the time like a stupid wretch.
Only you are a wretch, Zero.
You're filth.
"We've got some chocolate and mint flavoured ice cream in the fridge for Afters if you want some," he says, hoping the thought of sugar will cheer you up.
Mrs. Hudson already starts serving some near the end of dinner if you say you want it or not.
Because his Owner never lets him have chocolate.
John clears his throat; "Well that was lovely. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock and me will do the washing up, won't we Sherlock."
He hints to you and gets up to go to the sink.
His watchfulness may remind you of when he would read over your shoulder, only he's far less full of commentary and sarcastic confidence. In fact he forgets to respond at all.
He detests the silence. It's like you're not here at all.
"Nothing good on T.V tonight from what I know." he speaks up, as casually as he can; "How about we just sit on the sofa for the rest of the night and I read you the rest of that book. Sound good?"
There's nearly no enthusiasm in it. As though he'd lost it. He attempts to smile at you, but it seems to fail him.
The fact his Owner has allowed him to stay here this long with you is unusual, really.
Which only is going to make the part when he takes his Zero away more painful.
"Right. Same chapter with the pirates again?" he asks as you sit down.
"No, um...the previous chapter. Please."
At least he wasn't alone...or maybe he was.
Shakes his head. "No...um. The previous chapter. Please."
At least he wasn't alone.
Nobody loves you, Zero.