Back From the Dead, but Not Alive

Sherlock had fallen asleep on the couch that was too short for his spindly legs. He woke up to the smell of tea brewing and rubbed his aching neck as he attempted to sit up, but was knocked onto his back from the pain in his ribs. He placed a thin hand on his side and attempted to rub the pain from his bones.

"John! John! Damn it John!" Sherlock tried with all his might to sit up, but to no avail, he lay on his back like a turtle flailing its limbs uselessly.

"Sher- Oh God!" John broke down in laughter, doubling over, as Sherlock tried to compose himself. "Stay right there, don't move! I'll fetch the camera!"

"John, Please!" Sherlock's voice broke, as he lay limp on the couch.

John stopped laughing immediately, his breathing stopped entirely as he watched Sherlock with horror, Sherlock? Vulnerable?

"Sherlock, I was just...Playing, it was a joke..." John walked over to the couch and held out his hands to help him up.

"Well, it's not funny, it's humiliating." Sherlock grasped John's small hands and pulled himself up right with a painful growl, he sighed inwardly as he dropped his head into his hands. John stood in front of Sherlock and shook his head.

"What has happened to you?! Sherlock!" John shouted and knelt in front of the detective and grabbed his wrists, attempting to look at his face. Sherlock snatched his hands away and dropped his head back down.

"Sherlock," John continued much more gently than before, "Please, can you tell me what has been going on, I want to help you. Sherlock, I am your best friend, your only friend! You can tell me anything!" Sherlock slowly lifted his gaze until his eyes met John's.

"John, I, I-I can't! I just c-can't!" Then tears began to well in the cold eyes and fell, staining his cheek. Sherlock trembled, crying silently, his sobbing grew louder as John wrapped his arms around the thin Detective and did his best to console the man.

"Hey! Hey, Sherlock, shh, sssshhhh! Take it easy! Sherlock, please! This isn't like you! Calm down, take a breath." John's own breath caught in his lungs as Sherlock began to sob even louder.

"Sherlock! For God's sake take it easy! You will scare the neighborhood!" John gasped as his fingers brushed over Sherlock's bare back and felt ridges up and down his back that could only come from a whip. Sherlock shivered as John's fingers grazed his tender skin.

"What are these marks! Sherlock!" John pulled away and looked Sherlock in his blood shot eyes, those fragile eyes that widened in fear.

"N-nothing, I-I-It's nothing, J-John." Sherlock wiped his eyes with his trembling hands and gulped for air. John pulled the Detective to his feet and spun him around and caught a glimpse of the disfigured back before Sherlock spun back around hiding himself from John.

"Turn around, Sherlock." John became stern, this has gone on far enough. He took a step toward the Detective who backed himself to the wall. John having grown stronger over the last four years easily spun the much thinner Detective around and held him by the scuff of his neck against the wall, allowing him to examine the scars.

Sherlock screamed.

John placed his other hand against Sherlock's back and attempted to hold him still as he beat his fists on the walls and kicked ferociously, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Let me go! Get off of me!Stop it!" Sherlock's crying grew past hysteria to where he could barely breathe. John, in fear of the neighbor's calling the police clamped his hand over Sherlock's mouth and with his arm locking him in a headlock dragged him backwards into the kitchen. He bent the Detective over the counter to maintain control with his hand on the back of the Detective's neck as he searched the fridge for a vial of sedative with the other hand. He unscrewed the cap with his thumb and let it fall to the floor, he lifted Sherlock who thrashed around so wildly both men were knocked off their feet with Sherlock landing on his back, on top of John. John took the opportunity to wrap his legs around Sherlock's to stop the kicking and with a hand under the Detective's chin, tilted his head back and forced the liquid down his throat. The Doctor tossed the vial to the side and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, patting him gently to console his friend.

Sherlock's screaming slowly ceased and was replaced by an uneven breathing as he fought against the drugs, his movements slowed and soon stopped struggling against John all together. John sighed when the Detective's eyes fluttered, rolled back and his body fell limp in his arms.

With a few shaky breaths, John combed a few black curls out of his face and stared down at his broken friend.

"What happened to you? Oh, God, What the hell happened to you."