Sherlock & Sebastian (violent)

Sebastian watched satisfied as Sherlock stumbled backwards from the kick to his stomach, glowering at him when they made eye contact again and the other advanced forwards before he was punched for what seemed, the hundredth time that day.

"I have no problem with fighting you again." he spat, looking Sherlock up and down with a menacing grin. "If you're not looking a fight then why am I here? Oh, here's a thought, why don't you just let me out of here and leave you alone?"

Sherlock rubbed his sore knuckles and looked at the cuts and grazes from the endless punches he had delivered throughout the day, then he turned his attention to Sebastian. It wouldn't take much to beat him, he decided. He was already battered and bleeding.

"I might have let you go," he explained, "if you hadn't have destroyed all my evidence. Now I'll just have to continue extracting the information from you. Names, numbers, addresses."

He pointed at his desk. "There's a pen and piece of paper on there. Or we can do this the hard way...You also need to be punished for what you did to John..."

Sebastian scowled at having to name more people, not enjoying himself any more after destroying every inch of information he could. And now, he wouldn't be able to do it again if he was let go before Sherlock went to retrieve more evidence.

He snatched the pen and paper from the desk and wrote down the first name that came into his head: Steven Maguire.
"Too bad I don't have his number... and I think he moved." he said in a bored voice, too busy wondering what had happened to John that was so bad he ended up in hospital. The punishment idea didn't sound very good either.

Sherlock leaned over Sebastian's shoulder and watched as he wrote down the name. He nodded slightly. "Good," he muttered. "A name is better than nothing. I can find out the rest myself anyway."

As soon as Sebastian put down the pen, Sherlock shoved him with his shoulder and he fell back clambering into the desk. He grabbed him by the shirt collar and hauled him back up, twisted him round and pushed him into the chair. Then he lifted up his right hand and back slapped him across the face.

"Now you need to be punished..." he said quietly.

Sebastian yet again, was startled by the sudden, unexpected hauling and being pushed back into the chair. Sherlock had obviously stated he hadn't wanted to start a fight again and now he had slapped Sebastian across the face causing him to flinch and bite his tongue to stop any noise coming out. He wasn't that weak.

"I can hardly wait." he muttered sarcastically under his breath, moving his eyes to Sherlock's face.

Sherlock grabbed the ropes that were on the floor from earlier and began to wrap them tightly around Sebastian's stomach and around the back of the chair, trapping his hands and strapping him in.

"This shouldn't take too long," he explained quite casually. "I just need someone to take out my frustrations on...and you're here."

Satisfied that the rope was tied correctly, Sherlock moved back round to face Sebastian and punched him in the abdomen, then he looked round for his knuckle duster.

Sebastian felt his stomach churn as the rope was fastened tightly around him and he received another blow to the abdomen. By the time Sherlock would be finished with him, he'd be surely covered in blood as earlier.

"I'm not your personal punching bag." he said coldly, trying to wrench his arms free from the rope binding them.
Still no use.

Sherlock located the knuckle duster where he'd left it on the floor earlier that day. He attached it to his right hand. This should do just fine. He felt the need to make Sebastian suffer...to make him pay...he blamed Sebastian for John's injuries even though he knew John had had the problem long before his fight with Moran. It was just easier to have someone to blame. He could deal with that. He couldn't deal with it any other way.

Sherlock took aim and landed several punches one after another into Sebastian's stomach, then a couple on his face. "Well today you are..." he explained bitterly.

Sebastian watched the knuckle duster warily as Sherlock attached it to himself, his hands moving more furiously to get free. It wasn't his fault John had ended up in hospital. Well, part his fault. He had only kicked him, it couldn't have caused that much damage. Clearly it had if Sherlock was taking his anger out on him.

His stomach wasn't holding very well with the continuous punches to it and it soon felt sickening. More blood had been drawn from his face and the places where Sherlock had hit stung badly. For the second time from being put in the chair by the other, without warning, Sebastian lifted another foot and kicked with such a force he sent Sherlock stumbling backwards into the desk.

Sherlock was knocked back by Sebastian's boot and fell into the desk, feeling rather winded. He hit his back against the side of the desk and felt his whole body aching, the various bruises and cuts from the days activites begging him to stop.

He stood up straight, breathing hard, glaring at Sebastian. Then he grabbed the chair and tipped it onto the floor, where he began kicking his captive relentlessly in the ribs, back, stomach until finally he stopped, collapsing backwards against the wall and sinking to the floor, out of breath and exhausted.

"I feel better now," he panted. "Thank you."

Sebastian let out several cries of pain as he was pushed over and kicked ruthlessly, his whole body now aching all over. He lay with his head rested on the floor, feeling too out of breath to try and get up. Even if he did try, it wouldn't be easy. Having his hands free would be helpful but they were red and felt burnt from the ropes rubbing off his wrists from the struggling.

Still, he decided to ignore the pain and started to thrash, attempting to get up and somehow out of here.

Sherlock sat on the floor watching Sebastian thrash about, hopelessly struggling to free himself. Once he'd got his breath back and recovered sufficiently from his exertion, he crawled his way over to the angry sniper.

"Just relax," Sherlock ordered him as he began to untie Sebastian's ropes. "I'm done with you now anyway. For now."

"I can't... just... relax!" he shouted, white-hot anger burning inside him now as he only thrashed more furiously at Sherlock's words. "Hurry up."

Sebastian tried to calm himself a bit to let the other untie him, impatiently trying to wriggle his wrists out of the ropes. Clearly he couldn't just 'relax' after being tied up and beaten. No. Definitely not.

"Stay still!" Sherlock snapped, "I'm almost done."

He undid the last of Sebastian's ties and stood up, removing the ropes completely then taking a quick step backwards, in case the sniper reacted quickly and tried to lash out.

"You're free to go," he said quietly. "I'm sure I'll be able to find you again should I need you. And clearly, you already know where I live so...I'm sure we'll meet again. Soon."

"Well you're certainly taking your time." he snapped back, groaning in frustration.

Sebastian waited until Sherlock had finished untying the ropes before he slowly got up, staggering slightly from his light headedness. He glared at Sherlock for a few minutes but simply did nothing, not in the mood to be starting anything else.

"Good luck with that." he sneered, quite clumsily making his way over towards the door. "But I'd rather not see your face again."

Sherlock watched Sebastian leave with a smirk. He certainly looked to be in a bad state. But Sherlock had had his fun and he felt considerably relieved, although his mind was still wandering to worry about John. He checked the time on his watch. It was too late to visit him again now. It would have to wait till tomorrow.

Instead he got out the First Aid kit and patched up some of his own cuts and bruises. He was literally aching in every part of his body. He needed some rest himself to be perfectly honest. Sherlock made himself a cup of tea then decided to get an early night, the first one he'd had in months. The next morning he'd get up early and visit John.

When John woke up the next day, he felt no better than the day before. He could move his arms a bit better, but he felt nauseous even though he hadn't eaten anything.
The pretty nurse came in to give him breakfast and stayed for a while, making sure he ate and chatting.
John tried to be nice and smile to her, but the truth was that he preferred being alone.

"Are you really married to that handsome bloke?" she asked and he looked at her confused.

"Oh, you mean Sherlock?" he blushed before he could keep himself.

"Yes, I think his name is Sherlock..."

Sherlock had set his alarm for 8am. He didn't want to risk sleeping in and missing visiting hours. How stupid that they had to have set hours for visiting, why couldn't he just go anytime? Annoying. He got a quick shower then pulled some clothes on and got a taxi to the hospital.

He took the stairs to the floor where John's ward was and approached the desk.
"I'm here to visit John Watson," he stated.
The receptionist looked up at him with a flash of recognition.
"Oh...you were in last night. You're his...husband, aren't you?" she asked.
"That's right," Sherlock replied with a small smirk to himself.
"Go ahead," she continued, "The nurse is just in with him now."

Sherlock nodded and headed off down the corridor to find John's room.

John shook his head, "No, he is my flatmate," he answered honestly, even though one part of him told him that it wouldn't be too much of a lie if he said they were married.
They were always together after all.
Except now, he thought bitterly.

"I knew you weren't that way," she said with a smile, leaning over the bed and placing her hand on John's.

He was snapped out of his thoughts feeling the touch and looked up at her.

Sherlock pushed open the door to John's room rather hurriedly, to find the pretty nurse he remembered from yesterday crouched over his friend's bed, her hand on his, apparently flirting with him. Sherlock felt a strange sensation in his chest, as if an imaginary hand had gripped his heart and given it a quick squeeze. It hurt.

"Back to work please," he snapped and the nurse jumped guiltily, rushing towards the exit. Sherlock smirked, then turned his attention to his friend, approaching the bedside. He placed his hand on top of John's where the nurses had been.

"You OK?" he asked gently with a smile. "Feeling any better?"
Then he removed his hand and pulled up the chair to sit next to John's bed.

John started when the door opened, his cheeks burning red when he realized it was Sherlock, he couldn't help being happy to see him though.
"You could be nicer to her, I don't have much company here," he muttered, his thoughts jumbling up when Sherlock placed his hand on his, just like the nurse... Was Sherlock flirting too?
He shook his head, knowing it was ridiculous.

"I feel fine," he lied, he was sure Sherlock could tell, but he wasn't going to worsen the already gloomy mood.
"How are you?"

Sherlock sat down and shuffled the chair closer to the bed. He leant his elbows on the mattress and put his chin in his hands.

"I don't want her flirting with my husband," he teased and prodded John's arm with a cheeky grin. Then he quickly changed position again and sat up, stretching his arms up in the air with a yawn. John clearly didn't feel fine, nor did he look very fine, but Sherlock decided not to push the point further, not yet anyway.

"I'm great," he replied and rubbed his bruised knuckles with a fond smile. "Had an enjoyable fight with Mr Moran when I got home last night. Found out he'd ripped up all those papers I managed to acquire so had to resume standard interrogation methods. Anyway, he gave me a new name so I've got something to investigate. I mean...when you get better obviously. We can...do it together."

John laughed at Sherlock's tease and looked at him with sparkling amused eyes. "I had no idea you were a possessive wife, Sherlock... especially that you were one even though you aren't putting out," he teased him back.

"I told her we aren't married anyway," he added on second thought, he really didn't want Sherlock to terrorize her. Who knows, maybe one of these days he was going to need to feel someone liked him that way.

His smile became nervous when he heard Sherlock's words. "Of course," he muttered, even though he didn't really believe he would ever get to investigate that. Sherlock seemed to still be in denial about just how serious his illness was.

"You should be careful, Sherlock, Moran is more dangerous than he seems, he is just as crazy as Moriarty... I know you like the challenge, but I would prefer you to stay safe," he muttered with a sigh.

Sherlock blushed as John teased him in return. He didn't usually care when people made fun of him but for some reason it mattered what John thought. Meanwhile he could tell John was trying to avoid talking about his illness at all costs, so he chose to ignore his remarks about Moran and push straight on with the awkward questions.

"John...did they say anything else about..." Sherlock waved his hand impassively, "You know...your condition. Any news?"

John noticed the blush and found it extremely adorable on Sherlock's pale cheeks. It was charming.
"You are cute when you blush," he said honestly.

His smile disappeared when Sherlock mentioned his condition.
"Things aren't going to change from one day to the next, Sherlock," he muttered, and sighed.

"Actually, I have a favour to ask you," he muttered, and looked at him expectant. "I am going to need clean underwear and something to read, and mm... they are coming for the first dialysis in a couple of hours. I don't think I will be in very good shape after... so uhm... maybe today you can go home early?"