Chapter Text
John stirs in his sleep. His brow twitching as he lets out a small breath of panic. He rolls onto his side, wrapping his arms across his chest, pulling his knees up to his chest.
Beneath him an old beat up mattress that sat upon a rusty bedframe and a pillow that barely had any stuffing in it. The only thing keeping him warm aside from his now dirtied clothes was the thin sheet that came with the bed.
"Sherlock..."
John slowly opens his tired, heavy eyes. His gaze straight ahead to the white padded walls. Walls that he has seen every day for what felt like an eternity. Walls that he was sure his best friend would have saved him from by now.
He sits himself up in the bed, leaning back against the wall with a depressed sigh as he looks around his prison.
The room itself empty, minus the bed and a small bedside table. It was Damp. Windowless. Brightly lit by the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, which were controlled by people on the outside. The padded walls indicating he was trapped inside an asylum. Only this one a little less kept. The discoloration on the padding and the rusted state of the bed telling John it was more than likely abandoned.
Much like him.
By his supposed best friend, Sherlock.
"Why haven't you come yet?" He mumbled quietly under his breath.
John tosses himself back onto his side, pulling the blanket over his head as he closes his eyes tightly. His chest tight as he tries his best to hold back his tears. From beneath the blanket, he hears the familiar click of the large door unlocking, followed by the creek of the hinges and then finally the foot steps.
"This is starting to get boring" A familiar Irish voice coos. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Jim Moriarty approaches John's bed with a tray of food in his hands he sets it down on the bedside table before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
"I'm starting to think Sherlock has gotten tired of his pet!" Jim continues as he takes a firm grasp of the blanket around John's head, ripping it away. "Three weeks, John! Three weeks I have waited. And waited. And waited. And has he even made an attempt to find his lost pet? No! He hasn't accepted my invite to come over and play. He won't return my calls. Not even a single text message!"
As his cover is removed, John's hands instinctively cover his head as he tucks his chin into his chest. He begins to tremble, curling up into himself as he continues to try and hide from his captor. His heart sinking at the realization that it had already been three weeks and there really hadn't been a single word from Sherlock. His best friend should have been here, running foolishly into this trap as he always did.
"Shhh..."
Jim places a gentle hand on John's head as he begins running his fingers through his hair. His head tilted to the side as his hand slides through John's hair and to his face. He forces John's hand out of the way as he takes John's chin, forcing the frightened man to look at him.
"I was considering just ending this. Put you out of your misery. Send the remains to Sherlock" His tone softens as his thumb gentry traces John's chin. His twisted grin sending chills up John's spine. "But, look at how pathetic you are! It's almost adorable" Jim jumps up off the bed as he becomes more dramatic in his words. He crouches down beside the bed, leaning close to John's face, this time cupping his hands over John's cheeks as he stares him in the eyes.
"I can't kill that cute pathetic face of yours. But I don't know what to do with you..."
John stares back at Jim, his eyes trying to plea with the man to just let him go. After all, if Sherlock wasn't coming after three weeks, what use was he anyway? Then again, where would John go if he did release him? The mix of sadness. Anger. Defeat. All the emotions inside, eating away at John as he processes the fact that he had indeed been abandoned like a puppy whose child had gotten bored with.
Jim let's go of John's face, letting out a small sigh as his expression softens.
"What to do...what to do...."