Sherlock & Sebastian (violent)

Sebastian struggled against the handcuffs, blood starting to trickle down his wrists. He'd learned his lesson not to wander around Baker Street when it was likely someone would spot him. Too late, doofus.
He let his eyes travel around the flat, taking everything in before resting them back on the detective towering over him. Sebastian kept his face expressionless, watching as Sherlock paced back and forth, wondering what to do.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
He hadn't been particularly careful when wandering around. He should have known better not to do that. It was far too risky and the problem had only gotten worse when Sherlock had spotted him.
Maybe, if you were smart enough, you would have stayed well clear of Baker Street. Dumbass.

The opportunity had presented itself and Sherlock had taken it. Sebastian Moran wasn't exactly difficult to miss. The only difficult part was making sure no one noticed when he knocked him unconscious. The rest was easy - draping the sniper's arm round his shoulder and pretending he was drunk and kindly Sherlock was helping him back to the flat. A pair of handcuffs and a chair later and here they were. A cosy little party.

He paced the flat, thinking, plotting. He'd been after Moran for ages. Moran was the key to Moriarty's criminal web. The great mastermind himself might be dead but there were hundreds of his men still out there and Sherlock intended to get his hands on every single one of them. During his three year absence he'd managed to track down some of them himself, but the work was hard and Moriarty's men still loyal, always putting boundaries and obstacles in his way. He needed a way in, needed inside information and now here it was, imprisoned in his flat. Sherlock checked his watch. He still had plenty of time before John came back from work. He knew his flatmate would disapprove of such activities. Finally he stopped pacing and turned to face Sebastian.

"I need names." he demanded. "Talk."

Sebastian felt ashamed for getting himself stuck in this ridiculous situation. It was almost amusing. Sherlock obviously didn't realise that the information he wanted would not be told to him under any circumstances.
He grinned maliciously up at him, not daring to open his mouth. The information of Moriarty's 'web' was far too valuable and Sebastian had promised a while back not to tell anyone no matter what happened. He wouldn't be breaking that promise.
Sebastian knew everything. From names to where they lived, siblings, age, address. It was permanently planted in his brain and he could recite every person Moriarty had ever worked with right this very minute but of course, he wasn't stupid enough to do something like that. Sherlock had a very vivid memory.
Even Jim's phone gave vital information on everyone. But the only problem was, it had disappeared. So that was no use.

"And what makes you think I'm telling you anything?" he spat, still struggling against the handcuffs.

Sherlock had expected Sebastian to resist. Of course, it would never be /that/ easy. It was at least worth a try. Start out by being civilised. But civilised was clearly a concept Moran wasn't used to. His world was all violence, mayhem, pain. Well, maybe Sherlock could make him feel more at home, he reasoned.

He closed his right hand into a fist, drew back his arm and slammed it into Sebastian's cheek. Then he leaned in close, grabbing the other man's chin and staring right down his eyes.

"Because if you don't tell me," he growled. "I will /make/ you tell me."

Sebastian continually stared back, seeing a challenge. The punch hadn't affected him too much, he'd experienced far more pain but the urge to return the punch was there. He'd need these handcuffs off first.

"I'd like to see you try." he hissed, the side of his mouth turning into a smirk.

"Oh God," Sherlock sighed. "I can see you're going to make this difficult for yourself. It'll only be worse for you in the long run."

He headed over to the desk, opened the second drawer down and rummaged around through the various nick nacks till he found what he was looking for.

"A-ha, here we go," he exclaimed, pulling out a shiny new knuckle duster. "Picked this up in Belarus a few years ago. Never even had chance to break it in." Sherlock walked over to Moran, carefully attaching the impliment to his right hand. "Looks like it your lucky day," he smiled, and slammed his fist into Sebastian's face.

Sebastian was glad when Sherlock moved away from him but was curious to see what he was taking out of the drawer and when he saw what it was, his whole face turned white, the blood draining from it.

"Great... absolutely fantastic." he muttered sarcastically before letting out a cry of pain as the knuckle duster met his face. That would definitely leave a black eye.

The second punch had left him out of breath, the pain rushing to his head leaving him light headed. Sebastian gritted his teeth in order not to say anything, the handcuffs cutting into his flesh as he squirmed around more in the seat, trying to free himself.

((Just had an idea that maybe John could join us later and he could be trying to persuade me as well. Although John isn't really one for violence but it would still be good. Him and his sweet talk trying to persuade me xD It'll be hilarious.))

Sherlock regarded Moran's now bloodied face with a smile, then he leaned in close, grabbing him by the shoulders. "I need names. I need addresses. I need details. We can do this the easy way or I can carry on. We've got plenty of things to keep us amused here."

Sherlock made his way over to the table where he kept all his experiments and chemicals. He picked up a bottle at random and looked at the label. "Hmmm. Carbolic acid. Painful. I could make you into my latest experiment Sebastian. What d'you think?"


(( yeah, it would be like good cop bad cop and John would be trying to stop Sherlock from being quite so sadistic. Also, I figured if at some point you pretended to give in and said you would write the names down for me, I would have to uncuff you then you could strike back, hehe ))

"I wouldn't give you the information even if my life depended on it," he snarled, his voice lowering into a whisper. "But, then again, if you kill me you'll never get the details and information you need. I'm the only person left who knows everything. Killing me would just be pretty pointless, wouldn't it?"

Sebastian gave Sherlock a nasty smile, watching as the detective tried thinking it over. He shuddered at the thought of becoming one of Sherlock's 'experiments' and the pain he'd suffer would be no doubt, unbearable. The pain in his wrists and the side of his face was enough to try and ignore.

Sebastian was quite right of course, Sherlock reflected. Killing him would do no good at all. He needed the information, and he could only do that by keeping his prisoner alive. That didn't mean he couldn't have his fun with him though...He decided to leave the acid alone for now and instead switched on his bunsen burner. He took a pair of tweezers and held them into the flame, heating them up until the ends were red and glowing like a poker. Then he walked slowly back round to face Moran.

"This is going to hurt," he said plainly. "Sorry." And he held out the searing hot tweezers, pushing the ends of them into the open wound on Sebastian's face.


((apologies for being so evil, it's quite delightful actually))

Sebastian let out another piercing scream of pain, now very close to tears. He tried turning his face away from the tweezers but it was no use, being tied up was definitely a disadvantage at this point.
He opened his mouth to say something but nothing seemed to be coming out but more screams of agony. He hadn't felt this much pain in quite a long time. Sherlock had a violent side to him that Sebastian would have never expected. He was nearly as bad as himself. And that was saying something.

"I don't know!" he shouted in desperation, just wanting Sherlock to leave him alone. Obviously he wouldn't be doing that until he got something out of him. And Sebastian was lying when saying he didn't know, he just wanted to be relieved of the pain.

((You're very good at being evil. I'm just dying here in the corner laughing. I feel sorry for myself. THE PAIN!))
((Could you probably ask John in one of your other posts if he would like to join us? It'll make it more interesting when we have no other ideas.))

I don't know Sherlock smirked to himself. He wasn't going to get away with it that easily. He took a step back then delivered a right hook into Sebastian's abdomen, followed by a quick left. It made him smile. It had been a long time since he'd done any boxing. Maybe he could have Sebastian as his private punch bag for a while. The thought amused him and he gave the man a few more jabs before backing off. He was a little out of breath at the exertion.

"I know you know /something/," he said softly, leaning back against the wall and regarding Moran thoughtfully. "I'll get it out of you eventually." He checked his watch, "hopefully before John comes home."



((Speaking of which, I'll go and find us a Johnny boy))

Sebastian sat in the chair, feeling useless and wincing every now and again from the pain. He could feel the blood now running down the side of his face and dripping down onto his neck, staining the edge of his shirt. He watched Sherlock fearfully, wondering what torture method he'd use next.

"I won't tell you anything," he said coldly, watching the other man's actions closely.

Even if John did come back, maybe Sherlock would be distracted for a few minutes at least. Long enough for Sebastian to try and get these handcuffs off. They were causing quite a lot of blood loss.

((No worries! I've managed to get us a John.))

John had just gotten off work, and he knew something was different when he looked at his phone and there were no messages from Sherlock.
There were always messages from Sherlock, about how bored he was or how he needed John to pick up something from the store.

He frowned at his mobile and then put it away, maybe Sherlock finally found something to entertain himself with?

He hoped it was so, because he really didn't want to think about what else it could be. He was too tired, he wanted to stop worrying about Sherlock all the time.

Nonetheless he sped up his steps, and skipped down the stairs to the tube station.
He wanted to be home soon.


((Sebastian asked me to join in~~ let me know when you want him to get home. I will be checking the thread~~))

(( whenever really...."no rush" . Actually, you should probably come back soon otherwise I'm going to run out of torture ideas...I don't want to make him too insane ))


Bored with the boxing already, Sherlock headed over to his chemistry table to see what other fun he could have. He picked up the carbolic acid again and contemplated how he might use it. First of all he put on a pair of gloves, then some goggles. He noticed Sebastian watching him.
"You can't be too careful with this stuff y'know," he explained. "It's highly corrosive."

Next he picked up a pippet and drew a tiny amount of the acid up into it, then headed back over to stand opposite Sebastian. With his spare hand he leaned over, and undid the first three buttons of the man's shirt, just enough to be able to yank it off his left shoulder and expose the skin there. He hovered the pippet over Sebastian's shoulder and offered him one last chance.
"Names please Sebastian. I'd really rather not do this. I'm supposed to be the good guy here."

God, he really wished he had stayed away from Baker Street now. It would've been the wisest thing to do. Sebastian regretted even coming out of his flat nowadays.
He looked worriedly from the acid in Sherlock's hand to his face, knowing that he was being serious about this. Sebastian tried to quickly think of some names but his mind was so full of other things, he couldn't think straight. He was even scared to think of what the acid would do to his skin.

"Please... I can't remember, don't... please." he begged, looking up at Sherlock desperately. Being put on the spot like this really wasn't helping him at all and not remembering was only making it worse.

Sebastian closed his eyes tightly, waiting on Sherlock to become impatient with him and tip the acid over onto his skin. If only he had some sort of distraction. That was really needed right now.

Sherlock hesitated a second. He wondered whether he should believe him or not. His panic and fear seemed genuine, and yet he hadn't given him any names. Did he really not remember? Or was he just bluffing? He couldn't believe that like Moran wouldn't know valuable information about Moriarty's network...he was too high up in the organisation, of course he knew the details, the names, the addresses. It was possible the fear and pain was making him forget...but then...perhaps the pain could help him remember again...

"Just try to remember Sebastian," he said gently. "It's really not that hard."

Sherlock turned his hand slightly and dropped a tiny amount of the acid onto the exposed skin of Sebastian's shoulder.

"I'm home," shouted John as he opened the entrance door to 221b Baker street. Mrs Hudson didn't seem to be home, so he didn't wait for a reply, skipping up the steps towards his apartment.

He blinked, confused, when he opened the door. Sherlock was there, very much alive, and very much not bored, while a scared looking man was bound to one of his favorite chairs.

Was this Sherlock finally giving in to crazy?

He doubted it, more because John had this infinite trust towards the man than anything else, he probably wouldn't see reason even if it slapped him in the face.

"Sherlock. What are you doing?" he asked, his expression turning to concern, the doctor in him already cataloging the injuries the man had sustained, together with the necessary steps necessary to successfully tend to them.

Sherlock stopped dead and spun round, sparing Sebastian from having the rest of the acid poured on him. He'd been so focused on what he was doing he hadn't even heard his flatmate's footsteps on the stairs and suddenly John was standing there right behind him.

He started, surprised...then flashed a guilty look at the damage he had already caused to Sebastian.

"Um...I..." he began cautiously, then decided to just tell the truth. He was bad at lying anyway, and also had a perfectly reasonable explanation for his methods, even if he knew John probably wouldn't approve of them. "Meet Sebastian Moran...second most dangerous man in London. I was just...asking him a few questions."

"Sherlock, I thought Baker Street complied to Geneva conventions' regulations," he muttered unimpressed. When he heard the name he frowned though, walking around to look the man in the eyes.

He had no idea who he was, and his eyes said so when he turned to Sherlock again. "The second most dangerous man in London? He doesn't seem much like this..."

He knelt a bit, inspecting the wounds. "Are you alright mate?" He noticed the acid burns. "Sherlock! Acid? Are you serious?" he exclaimed, pulling back horrified.

Sebastian shot John a nervous glance, still trembling from the acid corroding his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it again, not able to find the right words. What was he supposed to say? He took a few minutes to compose himself, hoping the rest of the acid wouldn't be poured onto his already burning shoulder.

"I... um... n-no." he stammered, answering John's question. Sebastian let his eyes fall to the ground, not wanting to look at either of the two men watching him.

Sherlock hid the pipette of acid behind his back, as if hiding it would somehow make John forget he hadn't seen it, and looked a bit sheepish. He shrugged.

"It was the only thing I could find. Besides, I'm sure he's done much worse to other people in his time." He moved over to the desk and put the acid back. "It didn't work either. He didn't tell me anything. Not yet he hasn't. Although now that you're back John, maybe you can help me?" he asked hopefully.

"It doesn't matter what he did, we are not like him," he said, not missing the way Sherlock tried to conceal the pipette. "The poor man is in pieces here, I don't think anyone deserves that," he protested and stepped towards Sherlock.

"Help you?" he asked surprised, and looked back at Sebastian. "What has he done Sherlock? And what do you want from him?" he asked, because trusting Sherlock in this case was not enough, he needed information.

Sherlock glanced out of the window, remembering the way his mother used to tell him off as a child whenever he went too far with his chemistry experiments. Had he gone too far this time? He regarded Sebastian's bloodied wounds but found it difficult to feel sorry for him. With some annoyance he realised he still felt bad for upsetting John. Pushing the complicated thoughts from his mind he turned away from the window and back to his flatmate.

"Yes help me," he replied. "Mr Moran was one of the most trusted members of Moriarty's criminal web. He knows the names, addresses, numbers of every other single person ever involved. It's my responsibility to extract those numbers from him. I swore I'd destroy every part of Jim Moriarty and I will." Despite everything Sherlock knew he could never forgive Moriarty for what he did to him. And to John.

The mention of Jim Moriarty made John frown, his eyes darkening considerably. "He worked for him?" and the pity he had for the man seemed to fly out of the window.
It was all Moriarty's fault he had to survive three years thinking Sherlock was dead.

"Okay, yes, you are right," he muttered, and walked back to Sebastian, kneeling in front of him. "It's better you tell us now, Sebastian... you don't have much left of your organization now..." he said, he wanted this to be over quickly.