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Oh, Sherlock, he's so pretty. Can we keep him? JW
For a while, perhaps. -SH
He'll fade. They always fade. -SH
Goody! Where do we put him? Maybe we'll keep this one. JW
They always damn fade. The interesting ones last longer, but he will, sooner or later. -SH
Hmph. Then I'll make good use of him. JW
Oo, he's so responsive, and he hasn't even woken up yet :) JW
Feel free. There's only one who I think might not, and something always holds me back. Blood may actually be thicker than water. Irritating personal flaw. -SH
Your brother? JW
He's interesting, but he's a bit worrying. JW
Yes... -SH
You think he might try to take this one? JW
He usually does. -SH
Aw... It makes me sad, when he does that. You don't like it when I'm sad, right? JW
Insomuch as I recognise 'sad' (and you do tend to tell me about it), no, I don't like it one bit. -SH
Then you'll make him let us keep Jim a little bit longer. :) JW
I shall do my best. -SH
Thanks :) JW
Put him somewhere safe. I don't care where, just keep him out of the way. -SH
Of course. The usual place. JW
I'm assuming John wants to keep Moriarty for a time? MH
We're doing you a favour, Mycroft. Don't ask me too many questions. -SH
Your little psychotic wants to play with him, how is this a favor to me? MH
We're getting an undesirable out of your way. And we're less undesirable than him, or you'd have stepped in before now. -SH
We'll need to take him in time, procedure you know. MH
His psychosis and my sociopathy work well together, My. He makes me feel and I keep him grounded. We'll leave Moriarty in identifiable pieces for your boys. -SH
I never thought you would find someone to make you feel, much less a Dr. Mendeleev. MH
I could say the same to you. Speaking of which, keep your police dog off the scent, please? I almost like him, My. Don't let him get in the way. -SH
Greg has the same tastes as John, don't deny it. He just wishes you'd give him live ones sometimes MH.
Sorry. We're selfish. -SH
I noticed. What is John up to at the moment. MH
Keeping Jim somewhere safe. -SH
Meaning he's not woken him up yet. Go check on your psychotic, mines poking me in the shoulder. MH
Play nice. Old rules. -SH
Hmph. MH Fine. He will not try to find Moriarty. MH
My dear brother won't be bothering us for a while at least. I've got us a few days. -SH
Ooh, goody. He's so pretty, wonder if I should wake him up. JW
When I get there. -SH
Oh, okay. :( JW
Soon. -SH
Goody! JW
I need you to listen to me on this one. He's pretty but he's dangerous. -SH
Oh, I know :) JW
Promise you'll listen. -SH
I will, I will, stop worrying. JW
I have no concept of worry or anything else emotional, dear doctor. Just prefer you alive. -SH
I'm touched, love. I gave Jim a phone so I could talk to him without him hearing me. JW
----
Hello, pretty boy. I see you've woken up. Dr
Well, isn't this a twisted sort of honour. -JM
What ever do you mean? Dr
To be kidnapped (successfully, too! At least for now) by my own greatest admirer. -JM
I know who you are. -JM
I know why you hang about with who you do. -JM
Oh? Tell me then. Dr
Because Sherlock Holmes is the kind of brain-scrambled you wish you were. As am I. -JM
Wish I was? Oh, Jim, I don't want to be Sherlock, or you. You don't see colors, and I never would do my work were I not myself. Dr
Wish I was? Oh, Jim, I don't want to be Sherlock, or you. You don't see colors, and I never would do my work were I not myself. Dr
Quite sure about that? -JM
His detachment excites you. -JM
It excites me because I know what's behind there. Like I said, you don't see colors. Dr
This is never going to work for you. -JM
I speak his language. -JM
Five minutes alone with him and you're going to be yesterday's news, 'dear doctor'. -JM
Oh, I like it, you try to twist my thoughts. You know, Jimmy, he doesn't need for us to be the same, he has someone very very close who knows him like he knows himself. And I make him feel, Jimmy. You can't do that. Dr
You don't make him feel. He's sociopathic. Has no concept of feeling whatsoever. The only person who might be able to get through to him would be someone else like him. Same intellect, same problem of the mind, hell, same upbringing, perhaps. -JM
I know, isn't it wonderful? He's bright orange, flames always dancing around him. You'd think ice would make him cooler but it just makes him brighter, and me and the police dog? We know that, because when we need someone to tear, and they can't be that, we have the two of us. You could never but in. Dr
Well, well. I'll admit, I didn't expect this little syndicate to be quite so swingingly syncopated. -JM
:) Alliterative appeal, Jimmy? You know, I thought you were like him, with fire and flames, but I realize now, your flames could never burn as bright. And your eyes, your eyes aren't the right color. Dr
What about his brother, Doctor? How bright are his flames? How high their pyre when they're together, hmmmm? -JM
Like I said, his brother freezes, he doesn't burn. The fire is blue and it crackles and all his words taste like cold. Dr
You may wish to think deeper about just how much brighter the ice makes him, dear doctor. -JM
When the two of are together, everything, not just their words, tastes like cold and hot and it is gorgeous. Dr
Fire isn't faithful, little one. Fire isn't steadfast. Fire is greedy and destructive and burns what's closest first. -JM
I know that. If you could see through my eyes you'd know that. The flames are visible are only to me and I can feel them burning and its so pretty to look at. I wish you could see through my eyes. JW
They'll destroy you, you know. -JM
I know. We both know, and the dog will be glad when the dead finally shut up. Dr
Dying won't save you. -JM
Do I want to be saved? Dr
Do you want to live? -JM
The colours will fade if you don't live. -JM
I'm the only one who sees them, when I die I will keep them. They won't kill me you know why? Because, and this may shock you, the dog and I did the impossible. We made Holmes care. Dr
They're smarter than both of you. They could make you believe anything. -JM
I'll take what I can get love. And I doubt they'd let us hurt them like we do if we are nothing :) Dr
They don't feel pain. -JM
They can physically, you didn't know that? You can, your body is so responsive, even when you're sleeping. It's beautiful. Dr
So you’re the doms then? I must say I’m rather shocked. JM
-----
To Jim’s surprise, he doesn’t get an answering text to that one. This phone, obviously a burner, given as a means to communicate while John stays out of his line of sight, it reachable to him even though he has been shackled to a wall, in what is possibly the least kinky way possible. However wonderfully fucked up these four are, that doesn’t seem to be one of their issues.
The silence, which had already been there (obviously) but had somehow been filled by the conversation between him and the ‘good doctor’, was deafening, making the darkness echo somewhat.
A few minutes after he sent the text, he sent another one.
You’re just a pet to them, to their blazing flames. Even if you enjoy getting burned, they don’t care for you. They never can. -JM
Trying to push John Watson’s buttons, which he had mistakenly considered easy at some point in the past. That John had played the part of terrified, confused flatmate caught in the crossfire certainly hadn’t helped his deductions. No wonder Sherlock liked him, as far as Sherlock could like. He was utterly psychotic, a set of walking contradictions. If the man was in fact in the room, he was in all likelihood wearing one of those ridiculous jumpers.
This idea is proved, sort of, when John answers, not by text, but by speaking aloud, the sound sounding louder than it should in what Jim now realises is a small space. “Most people bleed colors, feelings, all the time.” His tone is sing songy, and Jim turns and sees him, barely illuminated, only a part of his face and glinting eyes visible in the near total darkness. “You say you’re the same as Sherl,” the way he says the pet name makes Jim’s skin crawl, the devotion in his tone almost bleeding into the room, “but you bleed colors, not as much as most but still there. The blackness is almost suffocating you, why are you so jealous?” Jim nearly answers but thinks better, John is obviously unstable. “They only sometimes bleed colors, usually it’s contained and it hurts them. So we help them bleed, the dog sooths the frantic voices and I free the colors.” He hasn’t blinked yet.
“Your synesthasia has obviously affected you more than you realize, the Holmeses don’t feel anything,” he says, trying to make John come closer, make a mistake, give him something that could let him break the ties binding him to the other three in the quartet that Jim isn’t sure is entirely human.
“Sociopaths can feel you know. It’s just buried. Like a radio under a blanket or a silenced gun. The noise is still there, but muted. Your words taste like ash, Jim.” There’s just enough light for Jim to make out a smile, and it’s so off, because it’s not a dark empty smile, or a mocking one. This smile is peaceful, and happy, the kind usually practiced when something has gone right, not when you’re looking at your enemy whom you have chained to a wall in the catacombs of London.
“I’m sure there’s a complement buried in there.”
Light floods the room, and vanishes as quickly as it appeared. A third voice, baritone and familiar, blank and monotone. “You are not deserving of John’s complements, Jim.”
John giggles. “Oo, I don’t know, you find him interesting and he bleeds so many emotions...” he giggles again. The brief light has made his eyes blind in the darkness, so he can only vaguely see Sherlock walk over to where John is sitting in the darkness.
The doctor rises to his feet and Sherlock pulls him into a hug, Jim completely ignored for the moment. He clears his throat. “Hello?” he says, purposefully drawing the accent.
John makes a gagging motion and sits down, curled up and Sherlock’s feet. Sherlock crouches behind him and in an uncharacteristic display of compassion, makes soothing noises, rubbing the smaller man’s head. Looking directly at Jim, he says, “Don’t speak, apparently your words taste bad.”
Jim snorts, “How are you sure John isn’t just faking to stay in your good graces?” If he can’t separate John from Sherlock, maybe he can do it from the other side.
The doctor cowers into himself, curled up against Sherlock. “Your voice tastes like when he was a little kid,” the detective supplies.
“Oh, goody, then maybe you won’t come near me,” Jim says, laughing. With all the drama, he hadn’t realized how dumb these two were.
John gets up, and faster than Jim thought possible he’s on him, pushing him backwards and straddling him. Something cold and dry is shoved in his mouth, and for good measure he feels tape being placed over it. “Don’t. Speak.”
John smiles. Finally, finally, Jimmy is bleeding the radiation blue of fear. Took him long enough. He’s strong, maybe he should let him live longer so the dog can have a crack at him.
This one, they were draining all the colors from him once and for all, leaving them like a pool of blood on the floor.