Harriet felt Sherlock minutely increase his grip on her as the footsteps came closer, and closer.. and she hugged him back just as tightly as she realised their intended destination. Her voice was nothing more than a wavering whisper as she tried to offer what little comfort she could.
"It will be okay, just.. go away in your head. I'll be here when it's all over, I'll look after you. Keep thinking of freedom."
Sherlock felt his pulse jumping erratically as the two bosses came to a halt outside their cell, and glared right at him with hatred blazing in their eyes as they held a tazer level with his chest.
"Lie down on your stomach, hands on your head. You move one muscle and I'll taze you /then/ fuck you. Nice way or hard way, your choice."
The detective chose the nice way, and only clutched desperately to his only lifeline for a moment longer before allowing her to scramble away to the opposite side of their shared living space. He did as instructed, and didn't so much as flinch while they secured Irish eights around his wrists, and dragged him back to his feet.
"Walk. No shit from you this time, you've already got enough to regret."
He shivered, yet his legs felt numb as they carried him forwards, seemingly against his will towards the door that the men had emerged from. The inmates he passed all seemed to shrink away to the backs of their cells before the glum procession, and Sherlock wondered what horrors they had all endured to make them so fearful. Every single one of these people were utterly broken. How does any human being manage to cause that amount of damage in another?
'Won't be long before you know the answer to that, and you'll wish you didn't' his own mind helpfully supplied.
It felt like walking to his own execution. As they passed through the open door into the lavishly furnished room beyond, he knew he'd never go back to the man he was before. One glance at the place, with it's perverse tools of torture all proudly displayed, and he knew he was going to leave with scars. Physically, mental, emotional. A hat trick.
Re: Complications Part 10
"It will be okay, just.. go away in your head. I'll be here when it's all over, I'll look after you. Keep thinking of freedom."
Sherlock felt his pulse jumping erratically as the two bosses came to a halt outside their cell, and glared right at him with hatred blazing in their eyes as they held a tazer level with his chest.
"Lie down on your stomach, hands on your head. You move one muscle and I'll taze you /then/ fuck you. Nice way or hard way, your choice."
The detective chose the nice way, and only clutched desperately to his only lifeline for a moment longer before allowing her to scramble away to the opposite side of their shared living space. He did as instructed, and didn't so much as flinch while they secured Irish eights around his wrists, and dragged him back to his feet.
"Walk. No shit from you this time, you've already got enough to regret."
He shivered, yet his legs felt numb as they carried him forwards, seemingly against his will towards the door that the men had emerged from. The inmates he passed all seemed to shrink away to the backs of their cells before the glum procession, and Sherlock wondered what horrors they had all endured to make them so fearful. Every single one of these people were utterly broken. How does any human being manage to cause that amount of damage in another?
'Won't be long before you know the answer to that, and you'll wish you didn't' his own mind helpfully supplied.
It felt like walking to his own execution. As they passed through the open door into the lavishly furnished room beyond, he knew he'd never go back to the man he was before. One glance at the place, with it's perverse tools of torture all proudly displayed, and he knew he was going to leave with scars. Physically, mental, emotional. A hat trick.