Sherlock & Sebastian (violent)

Sebastian was annoyed at the fact that John and Sherlock made such disgusted faces at every mention of Moriarty's name. His boss. Sebastian didn't care if he wasn't alive any more, he still felt that everything was the same. Even with no longer having his job.
He didn't happen to like the disrespect they had for him. But of course they had their reasons and if Sebastian had been in the same situation he would have probably felt the same.

"I'm not entirely sure what happened to most of them, all I really know is that some either got themselves caught or died. Most of them fled the country. Some changed their names, others moved to somewhere like India, Africa, America, Spain. Far away as they could get themselves. They only fled because they were scared of what would happen without their job any more. Most hated it anyway, they were glad he was... dead." he muttered quickly, not bothering to give names or any other details. Everything could have easily changed after three years.

Sherlock shook his head at John in amazement. "He wouldn't say one word to me. You must be good at this John," he encouraged. "Keep going."

John doubted Sherlock was right, Sebastian was saying a lot of things, but not actual information. He was playing with him.

"I am sure some people stayed," he muttered, and looked at him. "Like you. You liked Moriarty, you miss him, don't you?" he asked, he could see it, he could recognize the pain he had shared.

"Where are you staying now, Sebastian?"

Sebastian stared at John expressionless, not wanting to show any sign of emotion. This wasn't the right time to do that. At least John wasn't torturing him for information, he was grateful for that but hated to admit it. He had never been one for compliments or manners.

"Some, yes." he answered, and ignoring the second question about Jim he moved on to the next one, not sure if John wanted his full address or not. He wouldn't be telling him anyway, he didn't want the police round at his door.

"Just... in a flat. Why?"

John noticed Sebastian skipped the question, understandable. He moved away, standing straight and walking to sit on the table, watching him.

"A flat. On you own?" he asked, there was something about this guy that didn't quite convince him. If his mind was like Sherlock's, he'd probably have figured it out by now, he couldn't though.

"I spent three years here on my own too, it was lonely," he commented, kicking his legs slightly.

Sherlock was beginning to get impatient with the friendly small talk. It was all very well but ultimately not getting them very far. He removed the knuckle duster from his pocket and began to cradle it in his hand. He approached Sebastian and loomed over him in a threatening manner, grabbing his chin, pushing his head back and glaring down into his eyes.

"You're a bad liar Sebastian. You know the names. You know the addresses. And I intend to get them. Now don't make me use this again."

"Yes. A flat. On my own. What's that got to do with anything?" he asked, frustrated before Sherlock approached him again with the knuckle duster in his hand.

Sebastian glared back up at him but kept his mouth shut, seeing the annoyance in Sherlock's eyes. He was always good at annoying others. It was awfully amusing.

"As if I would tell someone like you details that are hardly any of your business." he said, half-laughing at the fact they both thought it was that easy to get something out of him. Especially something so secretive that he'd promised to keep a long time ago.

John frowned at the other's words: "I am just trying to understand, Sebastian," he said biting his lower lip, watching Sherlock loom over the other man. "James Moriarty decided to kill himself and left you with nothing at all... What do you exactly do with your life nowadays?" He asked, looking at him pointedly.

"I am rather sure if you tried to continue your /master/'s legacy you would just end up creating more problems than anything else... You just cannot compare to him, to his brains," he taunted him.

"Well don't try to understand, there's no point. You can't." he said coldly, moving his eyes from one man to another. "And the only reason he killed himself was because of him." he snarled, glowering up at Sherlock.

Sebastian couldn't help but feel John was somewhat right. He'd been left with nothing. Alone. No warning, sign, nothing. Sebastian shrugged when asked about what he did with his life. Sometimes he wasn't actually sure what he was doing. He didn't care.

"Who said I wanted to be him? I don't. You're right, I can't compare. I never wanted to anyway. I just worked for him. That's it." he muttered irritably, swearing under his breath at both of them. He was sick of all these questions.

Throughout the interchange Sherlock had begun to pace, playing around with the knuckleduster, detaching then reattaching it to his right hand. He was listening to the conversation with some interest, but had finally lost his patience.

"Right," he snapped, and stopped pacing, turning to face Sebastian once more. "This clearly isn't working. We'll have to do it my way." He flicked the knuckle duster into place and threw a punch at Sebastian's right jaw, followed by a quick back slap across his left cheek. "Names. NOW!"

"You worked for him, exactly, but he's not here any more, and you can't replace him, what are you going to do?" he asked, and watched as Sherlock was growing impatient. "You don't have a purpose any more..."

He pursed his lips close, waiting for Sherlock to punch him before he spoke again.
"What are you protecting exactly? You have nothing..." he said, his voice low and pitiful.

The knuckle duster colliding with his face caused yet, another cry of pain. Sebastian refused to speak, for a moment wishing he wasn't the one with all the information. But out of all people, he had been trusted with keeping it.

He had gained a sour hatred for John, not liking him any more than Sherlock. You have nothing... A low growl came from the back of his throat and he furiously thrashed around in the chair, having lost his temper. Sebastian had managed to get his legs untied but that would get him nowhere.

"How would you know anything?" he shouted, continuing to violently move around, the handcuffs cutting deeper into his wrists drawing more blood.

Sherlock backslapped Sebastian across the face.

"Calm down," he ordered. "All this shouting's not going to get you anywhere. You know I'll get it out of you eventually."

Sherlock stalked across the room to the mantlepiece and grabbed the knife that was pinned through their latest electricity bill. He returned to Moran and held the knife threateningly against his throat, staring deep into his eyes.

"I know because I am like you," he replied simply, as if it was the most obvious concept. "I was without Sherlock for three years, I know what it's like to have nothing to live for," he muttered and kicked his legs some more.

"Your master is dead though, you cannot protect him, you cannot disappoint him, he is dead, nothing, no more," he exclaimed, trying not to look at Sherlock with a knife.
He didn't like the spark in his friend's eyes.
Even though to see him so intent, so bossy, it was oddly... arousing.
No, he would never think that of his best friend, he told himself, fixing his eyes to the floor.

Sherlock positioned the knife underneath Sebastian's left ear. He slowly dug in the edge of the blade, drawing blood. It dripped down onto his hand. He leaned in close, his head practically touching the other mans, locking eye contact.

"Let's make it easier for you. Let's start with the people in London. We won't tell them it was you. I'd hate for this knife to slip and slice off your ear. That would be...unfortunate."

Sebastian swallowed hard and stared back at Sherlock, very uncomfortable with the knife being so close to his ear. He ignored John, sick of what he was hearing from the other man. There was no use in changing the subject, he wouldn't be let go if he didn't say anything.

"There's... uh... someone, who... lives only two blocks away." he said, pausing with the nerves. Sebastian hated to be saying this even though it was hardly anything. Only a start.

He watched the detective's hand gripping the knife out of the corner of his eye, not daring to move.

Sherlock was pleased to hear his tactics were starting to work. Finally Sebastian appeared to be giving them some information. He moved the knife to the top of Sebastian's ear, holding it steady with the other hand.

"This knife isn't particularly sharp," he stated coldly. "If I were to cut your ear off it'd probably involve quite a lot of hacking. Messy. And probably quite painful. A name please."

"M-Michael Fisher... I think." he stammered, not wanting his ear hacked off. "I think you've seen him around before. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, lives not far from here. He's friendly enough, now works in a bank."

Sebastian paused, watching Sherlock. He didn't want to say any more but he knew he'd be forced to. Even if he liked it or not.

"Good," Sherlock said smiling. He took a step back, removing the knife from Sebastian's ear. "Well, that wasn't too bad was it." Sherlock did know who Sebastian was talking about. He'd seen him a few times in the area. And he was pretty certain he knew the bank where he worked.

Sherlock put the knife down on the table and picked up his coat.
"John. I'm going to go and pay this man a visit. You stay here and take care of Sebastian. Get more names. And don't be afraid to use whatever methods are neccessary."



(( I thought maybe Sherlock could go out and then Seb could talk John into releasing him, or Seb could break free somehow and then basically when Sherlock gets back Seb has been beating up/torturing John. I know, I'm kind of sick, but we need to mix it up a bit. xD. What d'you think? ))

((Oh God yes xD It would be my pleasure to beat John up. I'm awful. ))

((Alright~~ even though I don't think John would ever untie him, he is not that stupid >> So maybe he will break free on his own? Waiting for Sherlock to go before pouncing John?))


John frowned when Sherlock announced he was going, he stood up nervously, he didn't really want to be left alone with a man under torture. It was not what he had been trained to do.

"Sherlock... I am not torturing this man," he protested, but the detective was already out of the room, walking down the steps.

"I suggest you tell him what he wants to know, I have never seen him like this," so cruel, so malicious, John couldn't help but wonder whether Sherlock had always been like that, and he had never seen it, or it was just after staying away for three years that he had hardened.

As soon as Sherlock left the room, Sebastian started thrashing about in the seat, ignoring John as he did so. The rope binding him to the chair loosened an inch and he struggled more aggressively, desperate to get out of here.

"I can't... tell him... what he needs to know... if he's not... here. Can I?" he panted, the struggling tiring him out a bit but it didn't stop him from continuing.

John's eyes widened when the man started thrashing, he was at the opposite side of the room and he didn't expect this.
"Fuck," he exclaimed, dashing to the chair and trying to get the other's arms before he could move out of the loosened ties.

This is not good...

"Get OFF me!" he shouted, his struggling intensifying. He glared up at the other man, watching as he tried to hold him down. Sebastian realised he had his legs free from getting them out earlier and lifted one, aiming for John's stomach.

"You're not helping. Piss off."

The kick at his stomach was well-aimed and John fell back in pain, his head spinning. For a moment he felt he could not move any more, he needed to though, he needed to do something, the man would kill him, that was sure.

He crawled to stand up, grimacing and limping to try to approach Sebastian again.