Turning tables (NeighbourhoodBomber/Sherlock Holmes)

Sherlock emitted a small moan as he felt Jim's fingers dancing over his stomach and down past his thighs. He shivered involuntarily, feeling himself begin to throb hard between his legs. He was horrified at the way his body was responding and tried desperately to ignore it, think of something else.

"I really don't care Jim!" he snapped angrily, "I hope you enjoy yourself because you won't get away with it for long. I'll come after you. And I'll make sure you're actually dead next time."

Jim smirked at the young Detective's responses, this was too easy, and Sherlock was getting aroused - maybe just maybe this could work.

"What makes you think you can go? Just so you can capture me..tut tut. I owe you Holmes' three falls - one has been done, now the next one is coming to play."

Jim picked up the syringe of pain-inducers and injected it into Sherlock's brachial vein. "This will be fun."

Jim then went to the door and turned on a camera "Your brother will be watching. As soon as you scream - the good doctor will be killed."

Three falls... So he was planning something else too...a third fall...Whilst Sherlock was busy trying to work out Moriarty's next move, his mind was too occupied to see the needle he picked up off the side.

Suddenly he was there, brandishing the syringe and with an evil smile injected him with this latest concoction. The needle went deep, right into his vein and he was instantly hit by a shooting pain going right through his body that told him whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Initially he thought it was a one off pain, but then it began to increase, steadily at first, then rather rapidly. He grimaced. It was just about bearable but he suspected it was getting worse.

Then Jim told him his brother would be watching. How bloody embarrassing was his first thought, but he quickly forgot all about his brother at the mention of John.

"What is it? What have you done to him? Where is he?" he demanded through gritted teeth. "If you hurt him I swear I'll...." but he was cut short mid sentence as another shooting pain racked through his body and the intensity level stepped up a gear. He screwed up his eyes, determined not to show he was hurting, if Jim really was telling the truth he had an extra incentive.

"Are you enjoying the game?" Jim smiled.

Jim laughed in a devilish way and smirked at Sherlock; stroking the detective's delicate body.

"Johnny boy is fine for now..still at Baker Street, his mental state failing by the switch in medication. It's you who has to beat this."

Jim turned on his heels and sent a text to Mycroft - making them aware of their location. Jim's plan was working.

"How long have you been clean? Would not want to tarnish Sigerson's reputation."

Sherlock reached his hands to wrap around the edge of the table, gripping them so tight his knuckles were turning white. The sweat began to pour off him with the effort of not giving in as the pain racked his body mercilessly.

He writhed and struggled against the ropes, cutting into his skin, then screwed up his eyes tight shut and bit down on his tongue till the familiar metallic taste of blood appeared in his mouth and wondered what the hell Jim was doing to John, just praying he'd be OK.

"I've been clean for six years," he replied through gritted teeth. "Don't you dare give me any of that shit..."

Jim leant in and stroked Sherlock's cheek, then placed a finger on the detective's lips.

"Shh..I am not that cold-hearted. I have never understood the need for drugs. I find other stimulation. Have you ever had any one?"

Jim then began teasing the hemline of Sherlock's boxers, his plan was excellent. Sherlock was due another fall - reputation yet again. Then he had John in his sights. He laughed devilishly.

Sherlock screwed his eyes up tight, beads of sweat beginning to form with the exertion of the mental fight he was ongoing.

He turned his head to see Jim standing close to him, his hand hovering near his boxers. He looked down to see there was still a rather large bulge hidden inside.

"What do you mean 'had anyone'?" he muttered, his mind searching for clues. Jim's fingers teased down the rim of his boxers and Sherlock began to realise what his intentions might be.

"Oh...you're talking about sex aren't you?" he rolled his eyes. "You know I haven't..."

Jim retrieved a small tablet and slipped it in his own mouth and smiled. He then began to caress the groin of the detective, and began to stroke his chest.

Jim then spoke softly. "Oh of course, you are the virgin. I will turn the camera off for now - do not want Ice-man to see this." he clicked a device in his pocket.

Jim then stroked the tip of Sherlock's erection with a flat palm.

Sherlock gasped at Jim's touches as his fingers danced along his chest and rubbed the ever growing bulge in his boxers. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. He refused to get turned on by this, he repeated over and over inside his head, but his own body was betraying him badly.

As Jim's hand slipped fully inside his boxers and began to caress his aching erection, he couldn't stop a loud moan from escaping his lips, his body now a confused mess of sensations, pleasure and pain combined.

"Damn you Jim," Sherlock muttered and turned his head away.

Jim cocked his head - with a small laugh. "You may not want this mentally but physically your body is telling me something different."

He then began to rub harder and then gripped Sherlock's erection, gently pumping him through the boxers before removing them and continuing the movements.

"Is that good for you?" he enquired sarcastically.

Sherlock pulled and tugged at the ropes around his hands and feet till they dug in and drew blood, but nothing could stop Jim as he continued to excite Sherlock's body and he couldn't deny that it was starting to feel rather good.

He gasped loudly as Jim pulled down his boxers, finally releasing his aching erection from his restrictingly tight underwear and beginning to pump it up and down. No one had ever done anything like this to him before and he had no idea it would feel like this.

"Get off me Jim..." he muttered half heartedly.

Jim's fingers danced around Sherlock's erection and then smiled, leaning to force Sherlock's mouth up to kiss him.

Jim then walked away to retrieve some lube and placed some on his fingers, then lifted Sherlock's legs up.

"Normally I don't like getting my hands dirty but this..this is different."

He then teased Sherlock's sphincter with a finger, before inserting it with a bit more force than he expected.

Sherlock kept his lips perfectly still and refused to kiss Jim back. He wasn't about to give in that easily despite his increased heart rate and the aching in his groin.

He was given a brief respite from the physical and mental torment when Jim moved away to fetch something. Sherlock stared down at his erection and tried to make it go away by sheer mental power, but he hardly had time to do anything before Jim returned looking even more smug than usual.

Suddenly he found his legs were being thrust into the air, his thighs pushed apart. The thought crossed his mind that he could fight back, kick out, but his legs felt heavy and sluggish, still aching from the drugs he'd been given, and his mind was thinking quicker than his body was able to respond.

He felt Jim's fingers probing around between the cheeks of his bottom then one of them was pushed up and he gasped, trying to pull his hips away.

"Get off...." he moaned uselessly.

Jim pressed into a pressure point in Sherlock's groin to insist on submission. Jim's own erection would be tended to soon.
.
"No chance Virgin." he snarled.

He then forced another finger in; he growled in frustration as Sherlock was resisting.

Sherlock yelped as Jim pushed various pressure points, but kept his legs still for just long enough for his nemesis to gain the advantage and another finger was roughly forced inside.

Sherlock grimaced with the pain but was determined not to cry out as he felt his entrance rudely stretched and violated. He turned his head and looked the other way.

Jim smirked at Sherlock's reaction. Intercourse was not a part of his plan but he was enjoying this too much.

Jim slipped his own belt off, pulling the fly down of his trousers - Jim rubbed his own erection whilst pumping the young detective's entrance; probing the prostate.

"This may hurt." he slipped his fingers out and grabbed a condom and prepared himself before leaning into Sherlock giving him a rough kiss before forcing himself into Sherlock.

Sherlock made another effort to pull at the ropes around his arms, only succeeding in cutting himself further, the ropes digging into his skin. He couldn't help but utter a small whimper of pleasure when Jim casually brushed against his prostate, and he hated himself for it.

He looked down and saw Jim scrambling onto the table and pulling down his pants. Sherlock groaned, realising what was to come. He also knew it was pretty hopeless to resist, or to ask Jim to stop. He clearly wasn't going to listen.

There was a small amount of relief when Jim removed his fingers, but this was quickly replaced and worsened when he rammed himself hard and deep inside him. Sherlock threw his head back and cried out with the pain, feeling like Jim was splitting him open.

Jim pounded the young detective into oblivion. Sherlock was his - and this would be his second fall. The other would be more dire.

Jim was close already, he leant in and bit down on Sherlock's nipple.
"Oh..you are so goddamn tight..." Jim was enjoying seeing the pain and confusion in the man's face.

Jim moaned in pleasure as he came to orgasm; and sent one last deep thrust to fill Sherlock's cavity with the sticky cum. He gently withdrew and kissed Sherlock's stomach.

Before Sherlock could rouse from the post-coital high; Jim retrieved a syringe and injected the substance into the failed detective's arm.

"Seven percent; if my informant was right."

Sherlock gripped the edge of the table with the uncomfortable pain of Jim's violation, trying to think of something else as he began to pound away inside him. Soon however, the initial agony slowly began to transform itself into pleasure and before long, much to his annoyance, he was actually beginning to enjoy it.

Every time Jim withdrew he gasped, and then moaned rather loudly when he slammed back in again, touching his prostate with the tip of his erection. Sherlock felt like every thrust was becoming more intense, more pleasurable, like something was building up. An orgasm?

But before he could find out, Jim appared to reach some kind of climax, crying out a little, his thrusts becoming ragged and deep, then he pulled himself out with a sweet smile on his face, leaving Sherlock rather confused and frustrated, still with a massive throbbing hard on and unable to work out whether the experience had been pleasurable or painful, amazing or awful.

He hardly had time to think it through before he felt a sharp pricking sensation in his arm. He looked down to see the remains of a drug vanishing into his veins and as Jim spoke he understood what had just happened and sighed.

"Your informant is correct," he muttered, already feeling the effects of the cocaine solution rushing through his body, an instant high that made him gasp in delight. Sherlock knew how easy it would be now for him to fall back into addiction but right at that moment he really didn't care.

Jim laughed at Sherlock's predicament and went up to his face and stroked it gently, tenderly even. "You enjoy the high sexy."

Jim's phone went off and he smirked. "I believe your brother and his minions are on their way. I will leave the two vials over there of your favourite drug of choice."

He then gripped Sherlock's jaw in an aggressive manner; "You tell any one about this and your poor doctor will die. Do you understand?"

Sherlock let his eyes roll into the back of his head, a dazed grin creeping across his face. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, the drugs racing through him. He felt amazing.

"I understand," he nodded slowly, noticing his speech was already slurred. "Untie me," he begged. "Come on...how am I supposed to get more drugs if they're all the way over there? And why are you calling my stupid brother? He's the last person I want to see..." He giggled a little, feeling really bloody stoned.

Jim contemplated the position Sherlock was in and smiled to him; this would destroy the detective's demeanour and reputation that had already been mutilated by Jim.

He then untied Sherlock; "Your brother will see you fall. Then I owe you one more - I think that will be the one that kills you - unless you overdose." he laughed, then left the room. Cameras turned back on.

A piece of paper was left;

Hello Sexy, if you want more. Which I know you will - call me.
Jim xx

Sherlock was relieved when Jim untied him. His hands and feet were ripped to bits by the ropes, bleeding and raw. But right now he wasn't particularly feeling much pain, he was far too high to be worrying about silly things like pain.

Sherlock didn't even care about the fact that Jim was just walking out of here untouched and unharmed after all the damage he'd caused to him. He didn't make a move to try and stop him. He just headed straight for the table with the drugs and began to prepare himself a second hit. He knew he shouldn't, he knew it was a bad idea...but he also knew that in about 20 minutes he'd be experiencing the worst comedown ever, and he really couldn't handle that right now. Not with everything else that had bloody happened.

Sherlock noticed the note on the table. He picked it up and read it, smirking to himself. He wouldn't be needing to contact Jim anytime soon. He was just having this one more hit. Just to see him through the comedown. And then that would be it. Sherlock quickly injected himself before leaning back against the wall and sinking slowly to the floor, his eyes rolling, a delirious grin on his face.

Mycroft had received an anonymous tip off that his brother was in Switzerland. He sent Anthea and a team who arrived at the location - a simple chateau.

Anthea walked in carefully assessing for any threats. There were none, just an empty syringe near the chairs where the struggle first began, she then heard a shout from one of the rooms. It was locked - encrypted - it would take a while to unlock but she had the best team there.

They waited impatiently before the door unhooked, she noticed Sherlock sitting against the wall - she shook him and tried to rouse him from the cocaine-induced haze.
Mycroft need not know just know - they needed to get out.

A small ticking could be heard - the door slammed and Anthea and Sherlock were stuck in there together.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Meanwhile, Jim was on his way back to England to sort out the final goings-on before Sherlock Holmes' complete demise.

Anthea had been made aware of the location of the junior Holmes and she was more than capable of dealing with any incidents that required her services.

She arrived at the chateau with armed guards - they searched the premises, that's when she found the room and the team unlocked the door. She went in to check on Sherlock who was laying on the floor; unconscious with suspicions of a opiate based haze.
The door then slammed shut and locked itself.

In a locked room trapped with Sherlock whom was in a drug-induced haze - now that's what worried her more. She placed him in the recovery position and checked his status then tried the door to no avail. She knew there was no signal on the phones. She growled in frustration, and reserved to sit next to Sherlock.

"Sherlock, come on. I need your assistance." she shook him gently, placing her coat under his head.

She then contemplated that naloxone may be available in case of overdose - that would help her greatly.