Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1 – Survival

The night air was frigid, even with the gray pea coat and scarf John wrapped around himself, the wool did little to keep the skinny teenager from shivering. It was only eleven o’clock and the temperature was already close to freezing, or at least that’s what it felt like huddled up in an alley between a rubbish bin and brick wall. John cursed under his breath but there was hardly any fog coming from his lips as his insides where probably ice blocks by now. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, the others were supposed to be here by now and they should already be breaking into the rich arseholes’ mansions, taking them for everything they’re worth.  It’s not supposed to be like this, John sighed again, thumping his head back against the brick, hoping the pain would dull the rest of his senses.    

“John, hey Johnny, that you?” his sister’s voice whispered from around the corner. Moments later, his friends…well, more like circumstantial allies, if John was being honest with himself. If he and his sister hadn’t presented as submissive, then he wouldn’t be a freezing homeless runaway thief gang leader, I really need to come up with a better title. John laughed at the thought, perhaps all their ‘gang’ of misfit Subs needed was a cool acronym like S.H.I.E.L.D, to be taken seriously. It wouldn’t matter though, the teenager knew, as long as he was a Sub and a dysfunctional one at that, he would never be the leader of anything that mattered. At least he had the four kids in front of him to take care of, give him a purpose. Even though stealing from those aristocratic Doms up on the hill was John’s greatest pleasure, what with their little pet Subs and diamond studded collars, it was a cake walk with the most exquisite tortes.

“I’m really cold, John,” a small voice came from inside a giant tan coat. It was Molly, the youngest of the runaways and also the sweetest. From what little Harry could get from the girl, they’d learned she was only six years old and both her mother and father were dead, leaving her with no Dom to claim her and nowhere to go but the Sub Auction Houses. Luckily though, Jim had helped her escape after she was purchased by a fifty year old Dom, who apparently had a nasty track record with his ‘pets.’ It was Jim, a fourteen year old sub and the best lock picker John had ever met, who saved her that day and had now taken responsibility for the newest member. Jim pulled the little girl next to his side, though, the black haired Sub didn’t have much meat on his bones too offer more heat, but he still tried.  

“I know, Molly,” John leaned down a bit, taking off his worn wool hat and placing it on her head, earning a grin from the girl. “But we are going to find a nice house to stay in tonight, one with some soup that we can make later and maybe even some sweeties. Now, do you remember what Harry told you?”

She nodded her head, pulling the red cap down over her ears. “Rule number one, don’t make any loud noises. Rule number two, don’t take any electronics ‘cause there might be a…a-“

“A tracker that they can use to find us,” Harry chimed in, annoyance in her voice. John glared at his older sister then nodded for Molly to continue.

 “Ummm…then rule number three, if a Dom says anything, even if it’s not used with their…erm…Dommy drug thing, I should cover my ears and run as fast as I can. Then, emr…number four, don’t touch or lick anything that you’re not going to take so they don’t get our DDA.” Mike, the last submissive in their gang, chuckled slightly but rubbed his hands together to warm them up when John gave him the same look he’d just given Harry.

“DNA, Molly,” John corrected, “and the last one?”

Molly thought for a moment, then, “don’t ever, ever, EVER, talk back to John ‘cause he’ll kick you in the arse,” the little girl grinned when her response caused the three other kids to laugh widely. Really Harry? Teaching a six year old to say arse, great work. John only closed his eyes, feeling how stiff they had become with exhaustion, both physically and mentally.  

“And?” He asked, putting as much sternness in his voice as a Sub was able to muster.

“And don’t…ummm…don’t-“

“Don’t ever leave our sight, Molly, this is very important. You always hold one of our hands while we are in these houses. Do you understand?”

“Yes, John,” the little girl said, ducking deeper into her coat to stay warm.

“Very good,” John stood up, pointed at Jim to let him know he was in charge of holding on to Molly during their ‘adventure.’ “Mike, I want you to be look out for any cops or IBAD patrols, yeah?” IBAD, worst fucking acronym ever but I guess it matches the filth working for them. The Internal Behavior Analysis Department, or IBAD, as they referred to themselves in the informational videos every kid had to watch after they either blossomed, if they were female, or bloomed, if they were male, into a Dom or Sub. Honestly, John couldn’t recall what the film was even about, he was more focused on his mum crying through the glass and his dad walking out of the exam room. At that moment, John knew that little bump on the back of his neck, which made him a Submissive, was going to be the bane of his existence for the rest of his life.

Although, he had never expected his parents to ship him off because the Sub Receptor on his nape didn’t work right. Well, I guess no one wants a Sub that can deny a Dom’s ‘Bliss.’ Ha! Bliss, give me a fucking break. Again, Bliss was another term, like blossomed and bloomed, coined by IBAD to justify using a Sub’s biology against them. This ‘Bliss’ was actually nothing but forcing the receptor in their necks to release drugs into a Sub’s system by emitting a hormone to trigger the dopamine. The Dom’s ‘Transmitter,’ though John wasn’t sure how it really worked, I guess I should’ve paid more attention to that film. All he knew was when a Dom laces their voice with whatever catalyst drug inside them, it sends a Sub to their knees in a split second, making them pliant and…well, submissive. Luckily though, John’s Receptor never seemed to pick up on the full effect. The strongest sensation he’d ever had from a direct order was a slight tingle down his back, making him laugh when his father tried to command him again.    

“Okay, how many houses are we gonna do tonight?” Mike asked as they started to make their way through the streets and up to the rich part of town, under the cover of shadows.

“Depends, I want to find you guys some new coats and a few medical supplies. Then Jim, you take Molly and look for any cash they might have lying around. What else do we need, food wise?” He looked over at his sister.

“We are running pretty low on canned fruit so I’ll get whatever I can,” her voice turned into a whisper as they reached the first mansion. There were no lights on inside and the yard was full of bushes and weird fountains with stone babies peeing and spitting out water, making their advance easier than most.

“Alright,” they huddled by the back door, squatting down low enough to make themselves practically invisible. “Molly, hold on to Harry’s hand while Jim picks the lock. Mike, you know the signal if you see any lights come on or cops come round, yeah? Whistle Ave Maria and if you don’t see us after thirty seconds, clap twice then make a run for it back to Pipes. Our home, hell I’d rather call myself homeless than say I live in those sewer pipes.

“Done,” Jim said after a click from the lock.

“Damn, you are one crafty little guy, Jim,” Harry said, handing Molly back off, making sure to not let go until Jim had her. It’s what John told them to do and no matter how hard any of them fought it, they were still Subs in mind and body. Most of the time, it’s said at least, that Doms don’t even have to emit their hormone to make them submit, it’s the command in there voice and the nature of the others to follow. What a load of horse piss.

“Alright, let’s go shall we and remember, if you see anyone, assume they are a Dom and get the fu-“ he stopped, glanced at Molly who seemed more interested in the hole in the hat John gave her than the conversation, “heck out of there. If they catch you, we can’t get you back without the risk of them Domming us too. Ten minutes and then we’re gone, understood?”

“Yes,” everyone said in unison, nodding their heads nervously. It wasn’t the first time they’d robbed houses and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last. Taking from the rich was the only way to survive under the radar and away from the clutches of a Master. Not the best life, John could admit to himself, but it was much better to be a runaway than a pet at someone’s feet who could be forced into a drugged haze at any time.

As they entered the house, John thanked the Gods that these rich bastards were too smug to even have a security system. Assuming they were safe because they lived up on the hill was their greatest weakness and John would take advantage of ever opening he could find to keep the others safe and fed. Harry went straight for the kitchen, tote in hand, while John, Molly, and Jim headed upstairs to find what they were looking for.

The house was ridiculously huge, no obnoxiously huge was a more apt description. Three floors with hard wood, crown moldings, at least twenty rooms, and damn did it piss John off. He was living in a pipe with four other kids all because of a bump on the back of his neck that made him weaker and susceptible for Doms to take advantage of if they wanted to…and of course they wanted to, they were conceited arseholes on a power trip.

That’s why, when he spotted a beautiful expensive black coat, which was probably worth more than his selling price, John took it with a wide grin. It was way too big for any of them but if tailored right, he could make three warm jackets out of the material. John held it out, making it into a makeshift tote to throw the medical supplies in when he saw the Belstaff tag. Damn, it might be better to sell this thing. It’s probably a good £1,300.

After a good five minutes of looting the bathrooms, John decided to head downstairs and see if the others were ready to go. That’s when he saw it, a small glow of light coming from downstairs followed by two loud claps. Oh for fuck’s sake! Great look out skills there, Mike. He slowly crept down the stairs, listening intently for footsteps from either his people or the owners of the house. How am I gonna get out of here? Okay, just stay calm, just stay calm and make sure everyone is out. John steeled himself, focused on his task as he got down on hands and knees to crawl towards the door, avoiding the room with the light shining.

John let out a sigh of relief when he saw all four kids standing outside the back door. Then, in one swift move he grabbed the coat full of loot and leapt onto the grass of the backyard. “Holy shit, John that was so close! Did you see that? Someone woke up, I thought we were goners, for sure!” Harry laughed, slapping John hard on the back.

“Will you be quiet? That was way too close, Harry. Come on we need to get out of here. Did you find any food?” John asked, relishing in the cold air as his heart started to slow down after the adrenalin rush.

“Yeah, these people had everything we needed! Guess what, it was even sitting out on the counter top, like it was just begging to be taken,” Harry laughed, excited at how full her tote was. Wait, what? Why would it just be sitting out on the counter?

“It was the same with the money! John look,” Jim said, holding up a big wad of notes, “this was just sitting on the coffee table. There has to be at least £4,000 here and it was just sitting there, can you believe that!”

“No…no, I don’t believe that,” John said, stopping and looking pensively at the medicine in the coat. It was strange, but at the time, he hadn’t realized how everything they needed was sitting right there in the medicine cabinet. Why? Something is not right here but what? “Put it down, we’re not taking it, the food too, throw it away.”

“What the fuck are you on about, John? This is prime stuff, we can’t survive without it,” Mike challenged, holding some of the food Harry handed him closer to his chest.

“Put it down!” John’s voice was stern, causing Mike to immediately drop the stuff from his hands and look down. Damn it, John. Just cool it and let’s go. “I’m sorry, Mike-“ his voice pleading but it didn’t do any good. Without another word, he ran, leaving the food behind as tears ran down his face, which were most likely from hurt pride at giving in so easily to a Sub’s command. “Fuck, Harry, Jim go after him, would ya? I’ll carry Molly back to the Pipes…” John looked over at Jim for the first time since they’d left the house. The teen’s dark eyes where wide with panic as he looked down at both empty hands, hands that were not holding onto the little girl’s. “Jim!”

“Molly?!” Jim shouted, causing John to have to put a hand over his mouth.

“Shh, fuck, Jim shut the hell up!” John chastised, removing his hand when the other Sub nodded slightly. “Where did she go? Why didn’t you hang on to her like I told you to?!”

“She…oh God, I think she went back into the house. We had to get out of there quick when I saw the light come one and…and I think she left her bear in there. I told her to forget about it but…oh God!” Jim ran his hand through his hair, shivering slightly, “I have to go get her!”

“No!” John grabbed his friend’s shoulders to hold him back from the house. “You-you and Harry go get Mike. I’m the only one who stands a chance at not getting Dommed, or at least I can buy enough time to get us out of there before…well, just go, I’ll get Molly and meet you guys back at the Pipe.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re fucked up, little brother,” Harry said, flicking him on the back of the neck where his receptor was hidden by his hair line.

“Get out of here,” John smiled at his sister, trying to hide his worry from them both. If Molly was really inside the house, there was no way she hadn’t been caught. He was John Watson, though, and John Watson never left a man behind, well, a man or a little girl. The two teenagers ran off towards Mike and John watched them go, praying and hoping they would be okay without him. He dropped the black coat to the cold ground and headed back towards the house.

When John made it back inside the house, too easily he realized, the warm air didn’t feel as nice as it did the first time. He wanted to call out for the little girl but knew any noise would seal their fates. However, when he saw the light on in the living room, John knew it was too late and now the only decision was how he was going to provide a distraction to get Molly far enough away. That’s when he heard a strange noise, one he didn’t hear very often, a giggle. What? Although that sweet little sound should have made John smile, the words that followed, made his heart stop instead.

“You see, with the proper tools any task becomes simple physics,” a deep voice came from the living room, the tone was light and if John didn’t know any better, playful. John got down on his hands and knees again, crawling along the tile kitchen until he rested his back against the wall separating him from the living room. “Ah see, with a needle and thread you must push and pull, like so, here you try,” the voice said again only this time it was followed by another giggle. “Good girl,” oh shite, he is a Dom. John closed his eyes tight, trying desperately to muster up enough courage to free Molly from the clutches of..of, whoever this bastard was.

“Do you think Teddy will be okay?” he heard Molly ask and with that kind of question, John couldn’t help himself. His curiosity got the better of him and the teenager peeked around the corner to see Molly sitting on the floor, using a needle and thread to mend the stuffing sticking out from her bear while a tall man, most likely in his early twenties, watched her with a smile on his face.

“Of course he will,” the man with dark curls said, examining the stuffed animal clinically, “you’ve done a fine job of stitching him back up. I see no reason your Teddy won’t live to eat honey for many years to come.”

“Teddy doesn’t eat honey,” Molly corrected, looking up at the man with a playful smile. “He likes leeks and rice and-and corn!” Suddenly, her eyes caught John’s and to the teen’s horror, the little girl waved at him. Oh fuck! Time to go John!  

“Well,” an amused voice came from behind him, “it seems a little thief does come back to the honeypot. So soon, though, hmm, well perhaps you are not the smartest thief I’ve ever met. What is your name?” The voice asked and John leapt away from the wall, scurrying around to the other side of the table, away from the other man, who was clearly a Dom too.

John watched the tall man smile, as if the boy’s actions were amusing him somehow. He slowly made it around the table, keeping the ginger haired man’s gaze until he felt like the receptor on his neck would catch fire. What the hell is happening to me? Who are these guys? “Tell me your name,” the command came and for the first time, John felt a warm heat shoot from his spine to his limbs, compelling him to answer. He didn’t though but only because he threw his hand over his mouth and bit his tongue almost completely in half. This earned him an even wider smile, however, this one was laced with crueler intent.

“His name’s John! He takes care of us!” Molly provided, no doubt feeling the same need to answer. John cursed, biting his lip now when he looked over at the little girl still sitting on the younger man’s lap.

“Us? I see,” the ginger placed his pointer finger to his lips, tapping them slightly while he stared down the teenager across the table.

“Obvious,” the voice from the living room called. “Now, Molly, have you considered a name other than Teddy? It’s quite ordinary and this is most certainly not an ordinary bear. I’m thinking…Leopold. What are your thoughts on this?” Shite, he knows her name, too. This was such a bad idea. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!

“John,” he was brought back from his cursing rant only to find the scary red haired man was making his way around the table. He was getting closer and for some reason John couldn’t move his feet, couldn’t get away, couldn’t save Molly and now he was going to die or even worse, be sold for a pet. “Come here, I won’t hurt you,” the command made his foot lift off the ground to take a step forward, the small bump in the back of his head sending out random spurts of pleasure. This isn’t supposed to happen! Perhaps it was his heightened state of distress that triggered the sudden response after ten years or this guy was some kind of Dom with superpowers but the only thing that was for certain, was that John needed to get the fuck out before he took one step closer to his doom.

In one swift move, John slammed his hand against the side of the table, hearing a slight crunch, hopefully from the cartridge and not bone but it still brought him back to a state where he could escape. He gave one last look at Molly, hoping the little girl would interpret its meaning that John would be back for her. However, she was so engrossed with the younger man’s dramatic story telling, she hadn’t even noticed what was going on in the kitchen. “John, stop!” A voice shouted from behind him as he made it through the back door, sprinting towards the Pipes and away from danger. This time, he knew what to expect and was able to somewhat ignore the annoying dopamine pumping through his system, making his legs weak.

None of that mattered though, not now anyways. No, the only thing on John’s mind now was figuring out how he was going to get Molly away from those Doms without letting himself be taken down too. John walked back towards the Pipes, home, dreading the look that would be on Jim’s face when he realized Molly wasn’t with him.     

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 – Panic Station

“Where is she, John?!” Jim shouted, pushing at John’s shoulders roughly, causing the blonde boy to take a step back. “What the fuck happened, did you just leave her there? She’s bloody six years old!” Finally, his anger boiling over and the younger Sub punched John hard across the jaw, the pain spreading up the side of his face within seconds of the blow. Before he could be attacked again, John said nothing but only wrapped his arms around Jim’s torso.

“We’ll get her back, Jim, I promise. I’m so sorry, I…I don’t know what happened back there,” John held back the shiver threatening his spine when he thought back to how much effect that man had on him. How strongly he wanted to submit for the first time since he had bloomed at five years old. He held Jim for a moment longer until the smaller Sub finally relaxed a bit and discretely wiped away his tears on John’s jacket.

“What did happen, Johnny?” Harry asked, lying down on the sleeping bag she’d stolen six months ago. It was bright red and John had told her it was too noticeable but when she wrapped it around herself with a huge grin, there was no way he could say no. “You looked right terrified when you showed up.”

John hesitated, buying enough time to get his thoughts together by rolling out his own charcoal sleeping bag and snuggling down into it. Before he zipped up the edges to keep out the cold, John gave Mike a playful slap on the chest, his friend was lying next to him and hadn’t said a word since their argument. “I’m sorry,” and he was. No one liked being dommed, especially these Subs, who had histories with their Dom parents darker than most would believe possible, or at least deny they believed it. “I was just really scared, Mike. I didn’t mean to-“

“’s alright. You were right too, I think, about the food ‘n’ stuff,” the teenager rolled over, pushing his glasses, which had been broken too many times to count, back up his face. He held out one of the cans of fruit cocktail they’d stolen. The label had been ripped half off and there were small bits of adhesive stuck to the tin. Something had been plastered under the label. Holy shite, I was right!   

“What was it?” John propped himself up on his elbow, examining the can closely for any traces of a tracker.

“A tracker, I think, glued to the can. I’ve never seen one like it before. It was as flat as paper, hell I wouldn’t even have thought to look if you hadn’t said something.”

“Where is it now? What did you do with it?” Please don’t tell me you brought it back here.

“I crushed it about two kilometers away,” Mike lowered his head, still kicking himself for something.

“It’s alright, Mike, we’ll be fine,” John tried to encourage but he didn’t believe his words either.

“Who the fuck are these people and how did they know we were going to be there?” Harry asked, reaching over to grab the can then tossed it from hand to hand. “Why were you so scared when you got back, Johnny?”

John sighed, lying his head back down and staring up at the metal pipe above him, shivering slightly from what he told himself was the cold and not the echoes of ‘that’ voice. “He dommed me.”

“What? Who?” Jim asked as he adjusted the lantern to sit in the middle of the star shape they created with their bodies.

“When I went back, I saw Molly sitting in the living room with this guy, maybe twenty or so. She was…well, I’m not really sure what she was doing but she was okay, he wasn’t hurting her or anything,” he clarified, knowing Jim would probably hit him again if he thought John had left Molly with abusers. “Then another guy, I’d say a decade older, came up behind me and asked me my name.”

“Did you tell him?” Mike asked, his eyes wide behind the lenses of his cracked glasses.

“No, but Molly did and they already knew her name before I got there.”

“But you said-“ Harry started.

“I felt it, it wasn’t strong enough but…but I felt it for the first time. It was so intense, I could literally feel the drugs coursing down to my arms and legs. Honestly, I don’t know how I made it out of there when he told me to stop.” There was a long silence after his confession and John thought everyone had fallen asleep, which was probably the best thing so he could have peace and quiet to figure out how the hell he was going to get Molly back.

“John?” Jim asked, is voice shyer than John had ever heard.

“Hmm?”

“Did you like it?” What? John looked over at the boy, who had his back turned to him. The thought had never crossed his mind, to be honest. He was so desperate to get Molly and get out of there, he really hadn’t had time to process what was happening. It did feel good, I guess. Of course it did, that’s what dopamine does, you moron. John shook his head, forcing the thoughts away because he knew, oh yes, he knew that that’s how Doms get you. They mind fuck you until you can’t think and your only option is to give into the drugs. No way, that’s not gonna happen. Although John would never admit it to anyone, not even him self, but he was both terrified and dangerously curious about the man who was able to dom him. 

“That’s what the drugs made me think, Jim, you know that. When a Dom triggers these fucking things,” John hit the back of his neck, wincing when he made direct contact on the little bump, “it messes with our minds. That’s why it’s not safe to be around them, who knows wh-“

“I know what they can do,” Jim snapped, “it’s just…it’s just been a long time, that’s all. Good night.” John knew to leave it at that, unless he wanted a full out shouting match on his hands. Jim, for all his ‘paternal-ness’ and kind nature towards Molly, had been through a lot, probably more than any of them. Although the teenager never talked about it much, when John found him half-starved, completely naked, and passed out behind one of the Sub brothels in downtown, well he didn’t think it was necessary to ask questions as he dragged him back to the abandoned warehouse they were occupying at the time.

“Good night,” John sighed, scooting deeper into his sleeping bag, letting the warmth protect him. It took another hour and a half for the teen to finally fall asleep, every breaking branch or car passing by made John opened his eyes, preparing himself to fight off any intruders. Finally, he closed his eyes and let a light sleep take him until dawn.  

It was a rare morning they all had full bellies before they went about their day of pickpocketing and scouting, and today was no exception. With Molly gone, the moral seemed to be even more dreadful than normal and John decided to tell everyone his plan to get the little girl back. “We need a distraction,” John told them, placing his hands over the fire Harry created for them. “Something to draw them to the front so we can sneak into the back and grab Molly.”

“You really think that will work?” Mike asked, licking his palms to get the last of his breakfast in his stomach. “What if we all get caught, John, those guys seem like they knew we were coming in the first place. This time it’s pretty obvious we’re going to be coming now that we have a reason.”

“What other options do we have?” Harry snapped. “Why don’t you come up with a plan, Stamford?” John’s lips quirked up at his sister’s defense. She’d always been that way, even though she usually followed her brother’s lead, Harry protected him just as much as he did her. When she ‘blossomed’ as a Sub, their mother and father, who were both Doms, only smiled at having someone to order around, a new slave that was bound to them for free. It was hard to watch, although John could only remember bits and pieces of their childhood, the sound of Harry crying from being punished still twisted his heart and haunted his nightmares.

“A fire,” Jim said, his voice cold and angry. “We’ll burn them.”

“But Molly is in there too, Jim, we can’t just set the house on fire. Are you mad?!” Mike exclaimed, panic in his voice.

“No, no that’s actually a good idea,” John scooted closer to the fire, looking from Jim to Mike, then to Harry. “If we set a fire across the street or better yet, next door to their house, it will force them to go help so the fire doesn’t spread.”

“Then we can run in and find her, that is if she’s still there. Who knows if they’ve already sold her,” Harry said but quickly hung her head, ashamed at even saying something like that.

“It’s our best chance. Let’s move out in an hour, yeah?” John said.

“We should go at night, John, not during the day when everyone is awake,” Jim argued.

“No, if we set someone’s house on fire while they’re asleep they could die before they even know what happened,” John told him, not willing to budge on his decision. He hated those rich bastards but they didn’t deserve to die because of they were being used as a distraction.

“Would you listen to yourself? Jesus, John, you’re no better than those fucking IBAD zombies. Those people don’t deserve to live and you know it,” Jim stood up, his fist clenched and John could tell the boy was stewing for a fight. Even though the younger Sub was hot headed, he was still an asset to their gang, they needed him and John knew a divided house would fall if he didn’t stop it.

“This isn’t up for discussion, Jim, now let’s go,” John pulled his pack over his shoulder and walked to the edge of the pipe, looking back at the other runaways.

“If Molly dies, it’s on your head then,” Jim mumbled under his breath but stood up and shoved his lock picks into his pocket. He wanted to punch the boy in the face, God did he want to, but in the end it wouldn’t do them any good, especially not Molly.

“She’s not going to die, none of us are. Harry and Mike, you two are going to start the fire at the neighbors. Do you still have those whiskey bottles?” He asked Harry, who was already putting the Molotov cocktails they’d made a couple of weeks ago after robbing a bar. Now that was a fun night. John smiled slightly, remembering how he’d woken up back in the Pipes with his pants on his head and his undershirt pulled over his legs like trousers. “Good, okay, so I want you to throw them in the yard only, not inside the house. Aim for trees or bushes that will go up in smoke quickly, yeah?” The two nodded at him solemnly, “then shout ‘fire’ as loud as you can, only once or twice though, and then run as fast as you can back here. The fire department and probably IBAD are going to show up within ten minutes so we all need to be out of there fast.”

“Ay, ay, Captain Watson,” Harry laughed and both her and Mike mock saluted him. John only rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless as they began walking towards the house.

“Jim, you and I are going to sneak in through the back door once the fires are set. I want you to stay outside while I go find Molly-“

“What?! No fucking way. Look at how well you did last time getting her back.”

“Listen to me,” John halted, grabbing Jim’s shoulder only to have it shaken off. “Jim, listen to me, we are going to get her back, I promise. Now, I want you to stay outside so I can scout the place to make sure those two guys go help with the fire. If they’re not, then I’ll distract them inside the house so you can sneak past and get Molly the hell out of there.” John’s voice was stern but he didn’t dare try to order the Sub, who still looked suspicious.

“But John, what if they get you? You said they can dom you, right?” Harry asked, worry in her voice at the thought of her little brother getting caught.

“I have a much better chance of escaping than Molly, so if they stop me from leaving the house I want you to promise you won’t come back.” I’ll be okay, I can do this, I have to do this.

“John-“ both Harry and Mike said together.

“Promise!” John shouted, examining his friends who looked so worn down, emotionally and physically the he really wondered if keeping them out of the system and on the streets really was the best thing. It was for him, that was obvious, no one wanted a malfunctioning Sub but maybe, just maybe the others would have a better chance risking becoming a slave or pet. Perhaps this was the time, even if he did manage to get away from that house after saving Molly, John debated whether or not he would go back to rally the other runaways. His sister he would find of course, after all, she was all he had, even if she did drive him crazy ninety percent of the time. The others though, well, John didn’t know what was best for them.  

When Jim had asked him the night before if he enjoyed being dommed, that was the catalyst inside his mind now, making John question everything he was doing. Fuck it! Just quit thinking so much and focus on getting Molly back first. “Promise me that you won’t come looking for me, Harry. I want you to stay in London, move around to warehouses if you need to but stay here and I will figure a way to get back to you, just promise me you’ll stay away and stay safe. Please.”

She mulled it over, her feet shifting slightly until finally she took a deep sigh and pulled her brother, who was a head shorter than her, into her arms, squeezing the air out of him in a brutal hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, praying that he would be okay, for her sake more than his own.

“I promise.”

“Good, now let’s go and remember, stay safe and if you see anyone, run as far away from them as possible, yeah?” He let go of his sister as they finally arrived at the house.

“Good luck,” Mike smiled and then followed Harry off towards the other home, preparing the bombs as they went. Only a moment later, John heard, “FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!” and then he could smell the burning grass.

“Okay, it’s unlocked, let’s go,” Jim called over from where he was hunched by the back door. Let’s go. Holy shite, what am I doing? Molly, I have to do this for Molly, she doesn’t deserve this kind of life. Within another minute, John could hear shouting from around the house, panicked voices filled the front yard as the neighbors realized someone’s house was on fire. Perfect.

“Thanks, Jim. Keep an eye out and if you see-“

“I know, I know, would you just go already. Jesus, John!”

“Fine,” John rolled his eyes but squatted down and snuck into the quiet house without another word. As he made his way through the kitchen and into the living room, John could see the people running around frantically through the window. He smiled despite himself and kept moving, trying to figure out where they would keep her. In the basement? Oh God, please not in their bedroom. I’ll fucking kill them if I find her up there. Then, he saw her.

The little girl, dressed in a purple nightgown, was sitting on the same couch the man was sitting on the night before. Her legs tucked up under her as she watched some cartoon on the telly and munched happily on an apple. Yes! “Molly,” he whispered, getting down on his hands and knees to crawl towards her. She looked over at him, her eyes lit up and a smile came across her face. “Come,” he said, holding out his hand and looking around quickly to make sure they were still alone. Thankfully, she hopped down and walked over to him, grabbing John’s hand.

“Sher!” She said, confusing John as he hugged her tightly. To his surprise, when he held her to his chest, she smelled clean and her hands were warm instead of the usual dead cold appendages they all had during the winter.

“Yes, yes, sure,” John repeated, assuming Molly was so drugged out of her mind she didn’t know what she was saying. They needed to leave, now. “We’re leaving now, come on.”

“Sher!” She shouted again, trying to wiggle out of his embrace.

“Yes, sure, sure, we’re leaving now. You need to be quiet, Molly,” John said, picking the girl up in his arms and pressing her face into his chest so she wouldn’t alert anyone to their presence.

“I don’t believe that’s what she’s referring to,” a deep voice came from behind him. John froze, panicked in that moment as a thousand thoughts ran through his mind of what he was going to do. When he turned around, the man who helped Molly sow up her bear was looming over him and John came to the conclusion he had made a very bad decision. Through the back window, Jim was looking on, his eyes wide. He blinked once and then ran from view, leaving John and Molly alone with this freakishly tall Dom.

“Sher!” Molly shouted again, finally wiggling free from John’s embrace and running over to stand next to the man. Sher? What the fuck kind of name is that? She smiled, taking another bite of her apple as she wrapped a skinny arm around the Dom’s leg.

“Are you almost done with you fruit, Molly? Remember, you have to eat the whole thing if we are to complete our experiment.” He said, looking down at the girl, completely ignoring John, who was dumbstruck and glued to the spot.

“Do you think the seeds will really grow if we plant them?” Molly asked, tilting her head up to look at the man. My God, John had never seen a brighter smile on the little girl’s face before. What has this guy done to her?

“Let her go,” John said, trying to make his voice strong but knew it came out as a squeak.

“Giving orders, are we? Well that’s a first,” another voice came from behind him. Fuck, how are they so sneaky? I didn’t hear either of them come up behind me. John turned his back to the wall, which allowed him to see both men closing in on him. He felt like a wild animal being backed into a corner. The only problem was, though, that even if he did lash out, there was no way he could escape two grown Doms. No, he was done for but he had to try, he wouldn’t let them think he was just a pet who would roll over and die.

“You don’t scare me,” John spat. He wanted to take a step forward to act threatening but his fear held him back. His mistakes were stacking up for the day and getting close enough to be grabbed was not one he wanted to add to the tally.

The man patting Molly’s head chuckled quietly, while the other, older man, only tilted his head with a tight lipped smile on his face. “Are you sure about that, John?” He said, taking a step closer, resulting in John taking a step back until he hit the wall. Damn it, way to be, John, way to be. The Dom cocked his head even further, “Why are you shaking so violently, then?”

John hadn’t even realized he was trembling. Even when he tried to stop, his body seemed to shake even harder. His eyes darted around for an escape, only to find none. John had heard of miracles but in all his sixteen years had never experienced one until a knock at the door saved him from the approaching man. However, it appeared he would have to wait for another saving grace when the voice at the door shouted, “IBAD patrol.”

The older man stopped, looked from John, to the younger man, and then to the door. “John, go sit on the couch. Sit. Do not move. Do not speak. Now.” The command was like a giant blanket being thrown over John’s entire body. An unfamiliar warmth spread over him, making his vision blurry and his legs jelly until thankfully the weight was removed and he was sitting on the couch, slack jawed and eyes half-mast. He was vaguely aware of someone, Molly maybe, sitting next to him but it didn’t really matter, nothing mattered as long as he sat on the couch, didn’t move, and didn’t speak. There were voices behind him, three or four, but again there was no need to worry.

After a minute or so, John’s eyes started to become slightly more clear, his vision coming back and the voices sounded more defined to his ears. What happened? Did he put me down that quick? I…I have to leave, I have to get out of here. Hell, I don’t even remember sitting down on this couch, how can I stop them from doing whatever they want to me. When he tried to move, it seemed as though the messages his brain was sending to his legs was getting lost in the drugs still flowing through his system from the earlier command.

Running on fear and stubbornness alone, John was able to scoot his body forward enough to fall on to his knees. A shot of pain ran through his neck, causing the teenager’s core muscles to give out and flop down face first onto the rug covering the hard wood floor. The pain, like needles starting from his spine and making their way up to his brain continued until he finally stopped squirming. What the hell is happening to me?

Finally, a hand on the back of his head stopped the pain completely, sending a rush of pleasure through his neck and back. “Easy now, John,” it was the younger man’s voice, John though but couldn’t quite tell with his face still pressed to the ground with drool leaking from his lips. Well, shite. “Go to sleep for me,” the voice reverberated through his bones, caressing his muscles, and wrapping his mind in warm calm water.

He had never felt this before, not even from the little tingles he got from his parents trying to order him around. It was the drugs, he kept telling himself over and over as he felt his eyes closing of their own accord, seeking out the best sleep he’d had…well, since ever. “That’s it, no one’s going to hurt you, just go to sleep.” The voice praised, causing John’s body to actually shiver from the amount of…I guess that’s why they call it bliss, running through his body. It took a pathetic, or amazing, depending on who you asked, thirty seconds for John’s eyes to close and sleep to take him. “Good boy.”          

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 – Supermassive Black Hole

It was light outside when John woke, the navy blue curtains glowed slightly as they stopped the sun from penetrating the room. The Sub groaned as he rolled over in a soft silky bed and to John’s surprise he was able to roll twice and he still didn’t fall off. Where am I? Suddenly, he sat up, looking around the room, which oddly enough looked like an ordinary bedroom compared to all the other mansions he’d stolen from. Huge windows with slightly billowing curtains, a canopy bed made of a dark stained wood, and beautiful ornately crafted furniture made up this ridiculously extravagant room, making John even more pissed.

As he examined the room, looking for small expensive items to pocket and an escape route, a loud knock at the door caused John to jump up out of the bed. In one swift move he grabbed a letter opener off the dresser and slid underneath the bed, waiting for whoever put him in this room while he was unconscious. He looked down, noticing he was in plaid purple and black sleep trousers and a black shirt, neither of them were his. They changed my clothes while I was asleep? Bastards!

When two large bare feet came into the room, John prepared himself to strike. “John?” it was the younger man’s voice, the one who had a hold on Molly’s mind. The pale feet halted in the door way for a moment, as if contemplating if they should enter until finally they carried the man inside the room and within striking distance of the sharp letter opener in John’s hand. Without hesitation, John used as much leverage as possible while under the bed, reaching his arm out and slamming the blade down hard.

Before he knew it, the foot was pulled back with lightning speed and a hand was around his forearm, while the other gripped his hair, yanking hard until John was lying flat on his back out in the open with two silver eyes staring down at him. Well that went well. “Hello there,” the deep voice said, an amused smile causing little wrinkles at the corners of the man’s eyes. Panicked and still having left over adrenaline and rage from his failed attack, John tried to spring off his back to strangle the man but the hand in his hair and now a heavy body straddling his chest, prevented even the weakest of attacks. “Easy, calm down,” the volume of his voice never changed but the depth, or perhaps it was the tone, which made the words into a command. John had no idea, as a Sub, the only way he could tell a command from normal conversation was the tingling, which was now threatening to spread down his back and make him ‘calm down.’

“Piss off!” John sneered, finding it easier to fight off the compulsion when he was well rested. However, his seething and thrashing only earned him an amused but intrigued look.

“Hmmm, interesting,” the man said, his eyes twinkled a bit as John continued to shout curse words and warning at him. How is this scrawny git so damn heavy? When John felt his hand slowly squirming its way out of the man’s grasp, he prepared himself for a final attack to the pale jugular above him. He was in mid strike when another command came, “stop,” this time it was a bit louder, but nowhere near a shout, and the tone was more of a growl. John’s hand stopped in the air, only half a second away from piercing skin as dopamine exploded in his body, making his arm pliant and unwilling to harm the Dom above him.

They sat there for a moment, marble statues sculpted in remembrance of the tragedy of one John Watson who met his doom in purple plaid trousers and a knife in a hand unable to strike. “Very interesting,” the voice said again, sitting up straighter and either inadvertently or purposely, John didn’t know, putting all his weight painfully on the boy’s lower stomach and pelvic bone. “How long would you let me stay like this, John, crushing your Ilium and coccyx? If I commanded you to, would it be longer because the drugs in your system were hiding the pain or is it fear or perhaps simply your nature? Hmm, yes, this is going to be most interesting indeed.” Purposely, then.

“No, it’s because you’re a heavy fucking bastard who I can’t throw off, that’s why!” John shouted, but it came out more of a pained whimper when the bony arse shifted, grinding bone against bone. The man was right, though John would die before telling him that, it was easier when the remnants of the dopamine coursed through his veins from the last command. He just really, really wanted the pressure to be taken off his hips before they cracked. Then, as if reading the Subs mind or he just got bored, the older man stood up, taking the letter opener from John’s hand. “Up,” the command came but before John could even think about following it, hands were under his armpits pulling him to his feet. “Go down to the kitchen and sit down at the table. Now, I’m only going to warn you once, John,” the man grabbed him by the shoulders, looking directly into the boy’s eyes. “Do not try to attack my brother, he is far fatter than I am and will surly crush your chest if you insist on being subdued.” John really wanted to laugh and in any other circumstance he probably would have but currently, the boy didn’t think he would ever want to laugh again.  

“Whatever,” he tried to glare at the man and look threatening even though he was almost a full head shorter, forcing him to look up and expose his neck.

“Do not make me repeat myself, go,” the command was strong and before John knew it, his body wasn’t his and he was sitting at a long table with a plate of beans, sausage, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, and toast accompanied by a large glass of milk sitting in front of him. Holy shite, John thought, his eyes growing large and his stomach making an obscene growling noise. As the slight fog in his vision disappeared once he had fulfilled the command given by the Dom, John stood up quickly, shoving the chair back with a loud screech. I don’t even remember going down the stairs!

“Not hungry?” a voice came from the other end of the table, which John hadn’t even realized another person was in the room. “I believe that loud noise coming from your stomach would disagree with you. Sit down and eat, I promise there is nothing in there that will hurt you. As you will come to learn, it is neither mine nor my brother’s intention to harm you,” the older man said, he’s the younger’s brother, right? Damn, I don’t know which one in scarier. “Well, that is if you behave yourself and you do want to behave yourself, don’t you John?”

“Who the fu-“

“Sit,” the older man said, his eyes growing dark, forcing a beautiful horrible rush of bliss to fill the boy’s body as he pulled up the chair and sat, his chest heaving with anger at both himself and the man who was imposing this torture upon him. “Please, eat,” he motioned to the plate in front of John, only a tiny warmth permeated through him but the Sub was so hungry and that was all it took for him to dig in, shoving the food into his mouth quickly. “Good boy,” he heard the voice say but after not eating a full warm meal in God know how many years, John didn’t care as he stuffed his face full of delicious beans and sausage.

John was vaguely aware of the younger brother coming in and sitting down at the table, fixing John with a murderous stare. “Oh Sherlock, don’t be a sore loser, of course the boy was going to pick the letter opener.”

“You cheated, Mycroft, it was closer to him than the paper weight and the breakfast does not count either. Look at him, the boy’s half starved.” Sherlock made a dramatic gesture, waving his hand up and down towards John. “A ten year old could have commanded him to eat. I will not let you skew the statistics with one-time circumstantial evidence. It’s obvious he would have thrown the fork at your head if he wasn’t using it to shovel food into his mouth.”

Mycroft? Sherlock? Skewed evidence? Okay, this is bad, this is really bad, John. Wait…where’s Molly? “Where’s Molly? What have you done with her? I swear to God if either of you-“

“Eat, John,” they both said in tandem, causing John to accidentally drop his fork from the overwhelming sense of numbness in his extremities.

“Mycroft!” Sherlock snapped at his brother. John watched the two intently as he picked the utensil back up and started to eat again. “If we both transmit at the same time it will contaminate the result. You would understand that if you didn’t spend all your time at that ridiculous center.”

“That ‘center,’ brother mine, is the largest Sub research facility in all of Europe. I fail to see how understanding and training perfect Subs is a waste of my time.”

“That is because you and the rest of those morons who call themselves ‘scientists’ are around Subs who already behave like mindless robots because that’s how they were raised before they even get to you. Your facts are based off of Subs brainwashed by propaganda, educational films, and decades of one sided data, Mycroft, I’ve told you this countless of times and now you have proof sitting before you,” Sherlock finished his speech, which left John even more confused as to who these people were and why he was sitting in their kitchen.

John was about to open his mouth to protest at being talked about like he wasn’t there but when the man named Mycroft turned his gaze upon him, John couldn’t help but lower his and continue eating. “And you propose this…feral Submissive will provide us more useful information than the two hundred we hold at our facility, is that right Sherlock?”

“Obviously,” Sherlock scoffed, turning to smile at John. Though, it wasn’t a kind smile one offers to a friend, no, this was the look when you buy a new toy at the store. “He’s unaware and/or disbelieving of the outside influences most Subs experience as soon as they present. Thus, creating the perfect specimen to disprove your theories and prove mine.” The two brothers stared at each other for the longest time. So long, in fact, John thought he might be able to slip out of the house before they even realized he was gone. Then, Mycroft turned his gaze from Sherlock to look at John and said something that made the boy tremble with fear.

“You will be on the ground before you make it to that door, John.  Thus, earning you your first punishment, as I cannot be seen having my first Sub running and screaming in the back yard. Spectacles are frowned upon in this neighborhood, John, which is why word sped so quickly about the rogue band of Sub thieves.” His voice was cold, terrifying if John was being honest with himself. “So I suggest you finish your milk and listen very carefully to your Doms.”

John couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t been commanded in a while and the fact Mycroft had said ‘my first sub’ and ‘your Doms,’well, John lost it. “What the blood hell are you talking about? I’m not your Sub, I’m no bodies Sub! Now where is Molly?!” John shouted, his voice having no effect on the Doms sitting across from him.

Mycroft ran his hand over his face, frustration increasing and patience waning while Sherlock looked like it was Christmas. “This is why we put down Subs with a defective receptor,” the oldest Dom said, more to himself than the other two in the room.

“Boring,” Sherlock said to his brother, standing up from the table and placing his hands on his hips, “but this…this is going to be fun. John, come with me upstairs, I need to take a shower.”

Oh hell no. There is no amount of bliss that will make me wash your junk, you maniac. “Sherlock, I believe we need to set some ground rules first before you start your little experiments; such as what is expected from the boy and what will happen if he tries to stab you in the foot again.” Mycroft was still sitting, sipping his tea slowly and looking at John, studying him.

“Tedious. I’m going to start the shower, send him up when you’re done,” Sherlock waved his hand, then turned, his robe swishing dramatically behind him as he strode up the stairs.

“John?” Mycroft’s voice took him by surprise, causing John to jolt slightly and turn his gaze to the dark blue eyes across the table.

“Y-You can’t do this,” John sputtered out, trying anything that came to his mind to get out of this horrid situation he fell into. “There are laws…laws that say you can’t keep a Sub without-“

“Without purchasing them, yes, that’s already taken care of; as I said, you are my first Sub, John. To be frank, I see no use in owning a Sub, especially one who tries to resist orders,” Mycroft tilted his head forward, fixing John with a chastising look appropriate for a five year old who stole a cookie from the jar. “However, as you can see, my brother has decided to use you as a means to revive a childish feud in proving my theories on Subs wrong.”

“Well thank goodness you’re above all that,” John said without thinking. His tongue always seemed to get the better of him in dangerous situations, which was not always the best survival strategy.

“Indeed,” his voice became darker, “be that as it may, your…illness, shall we call it, is quite a mystery and, for all my brother’s immaturity, is a genius and the evidence he finds will be invaluable in learning how to…help malfunctioning Subs such as yourself. It would be much more politically correct to provide assistance to those Subs rather than put them down, wouldn’t you say John?”

“You bastard,” the boy mumbled under his breath, his hands clenching into fists at being called ‘ill’ and the thought of Subs being put down like rabid dogs.

“I believe your language will be the first issue you and I will discuss once Sherlock has had his turn with you,” John’s eyes widened, a few pieces of the puzzle finally clicking into place. His face must have showed his realization because the corners of Mycroft’s mouth twitched slightly as he stared at the boy. “Ah, so you understand now, yes?”

“You bastards want to use me to prove who has a bigger dick and can piss the farthest,” John growled, trying to form escape plan after escape plan in his head so when the time came, he would be able to get out of here and away from these crazy bastards.

“Eloquently put John but not quite. We shall be monitoring your receptor’s reactions to different types and levels of stimuli. How much dopamine you produce, how sexually aroused you become, your blood pressure, heart rate, everything  will be recorded to find the best tactic to fix your little problem. These results will be used to help others like you, John; you will be saving lives…and Molly’s life as well.”

John’s heart stopped, looking up from the empty plate with fear and anger in his eyes. They wouldn’t…he wouldn’t hurt a six year old, would he? “You-you wouldn’t? Where is she? I swear if you touch one hair on her head, I’ll-“

“You’ll what, John? Stab me in the foot with a letter opener? Throw a paper weight at me before I can tell you to drop it and get down on your knees?” John wanted to cry. For the first time since he could remember, tears threatened to escape at this helpless situation.

“Is she okay?” the boy’s voice was meek, well meek by John’s standards but compared to most broken Subs, it was still petulant.

“For right now, yes, and she will continue to be cared for unless you decide to run. Running,” Mycroft said, standing up from his chair and slowly walking over towards John, “is the only infraction, which will ruin young Molly’s chance at a comfortable life with kind Doms to take care of her. I want you to be honest John, no more manipulating or ‘playing’ submissive to work your way out of punishment. Your full cooperation is necessary if the results of this experiment are going to be accurate. Now, do I need to make a call and tell my people to send Molly to the auction house? I’m sure someone would love to have such a sweet-“

“Alright!” John shouted, leaning back when Mycroft loomed over him. He couldn’t, there was no way John would be able to live with himself for being responsible for putting a six year old girl in the grasps of some masochist Dom. No, he would endure, or at least endure until he made contact with Harry or Jim who might have a chance of finding Molly and freeing her.

“Good boy,” Mycroft smiled, running a hand through John’s hair, making the boy close his eyes and shiver at the uncomfortable contact. “I knew you were smarter than you looked. Now, I believe Sherlock is waiting for you. Go,” the command washed over him but it wasn’t strong enough to force him. However, the threat of uncertainty was enough to make John rise from his chair and head upstairs.

As John made his way towards the bathroom, he could hear the sound of water from the shower and strangely enough that’s when a brilliant but half-baked plan hit him. If Mycroft’s going to hold Molly hostage…well, maybe two can play at that game. John walked slowly into the bedroom, grabbing the letter opener, which Sherlock had left on the bed after their scuffle, and placed it between his hip and the elastic of his trousers. He would show them what a Sub was capable of, even if it meant blood needed to be shed.      

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 – Resistance

John crept slowly towards the bathroom door, feeling the metal from the letter opener chaffing his right thigh with every step. There was steam coming from under the door when John turned the handle and walked in, his hair immediately starting to curl from the humidity created by the haze. God, it’s been so long since I’ve had a warm shower. Fuck, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any shower, cold or hot. John closed his eyes for only a moment, relishing in the warmth enveloping his skin, when a very naked Sherlock appeared out of nowhere standing right in front of him.

“Get undressed,” the voice said and John’s eyes traveled from the bobbing Adam’s apple all the way down a pale lightly haired chest, to a taught stomach and then to a darker trail of hair leading down to…Jesus Christ, John, concentrate! Before John could refocus his hormone filled mind with his escape plan, a large hand came around his nape, pulling him slightly closer almost to the point where he thought his nose might hit Sherlock’s chest. “Is that a letter opener in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, John?” The man chuckled but John could have sworn the question was laced with seduction or maybe his mind just told him it was.

Making up his mind that it was now or never, John slammed his foot down on Sherlock’s and yanked the only weapon he possessed out of the elastic only to accidentally cut his leg in the process. It turned out that would be the only blood shed when Sherlock grabbed his wrist and turned it behind the boy’s back, pulling it up higher than John thought his joints could handle. A sharp embarrassing squeak came out of John’s throat and he dropped the knife, the clang of the metal meeting the tile signified the loss of round one. John zero, fucking Dom bastards one.

“Hmmm,” he heard Sherlock murmur and click his tongue behind him as the man continued to keep John immobilized and on the brink of having his arm snapped off. When a warm finger started stroking over the small lump on John’s nape, the boy panicked and started to struggle again, only to have his arm pulled up so much that he had to brace himself on the tips of his toes to manage the angle. “Do you feel any extra sensation when your receptor is physically stimulated?” Sherlock asked but to John’s surprise, it wasn’t a command.

Perhaps it was the fact that he had his arm twisted behind his back by a naked man in a bathroom or that it was just in his nature but John’s snark got the better of him, once again. “I don’t know, ‘sir,’ do you feel the need to let your brother fuck you all the time or just when he Doms you?”

“Usually all the time,” John could hear the smirk in his voice, “but I fail to see what that has to do with you still being dressed when I’ve told you to strip.” Without another word, Sherlock released his arm and kicked the letter opener into the corner, far away from John’s trembling hands. Warm hands pulled his arms up and then his shirt over his head, leaving no room for struggle or protest on John’s part. When those quick hands moved to his waistband however, John jumped back, grabbing ahold of his trousers for dear life.

“S-Stop,” John said, keeping his voice stern and hoping Sherlock didn’t hear the slight quiver. “I won’t…don’t make me-“

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, John, I’m not going to rape you. I’m afraid that would taint my results by putting a permanent bad taste in your mouth…no pun intended,” Sherlock smirked. John didn’t know if he should be furious that this arsehole was making jokes about raping him or relieved that he said he wouldn’t. Just ‘cause he said he wouldn’t doesn’t mean he won’t John, you know that.

“I’m not going to wash you, if that’s what you want!” John said, raising his chin slightly in defiance. The teen readied himself to fight off any kind of command that would surly come. Instead, the man only smiled at him and John decided he really hated that fucking smug grin.

“No, of course not, well, not yet anyways,” Sherlock nodded, pointing to the filled tub. “But you, John, smell like a rubbish bin so ‘I’ will wash ‘you.’ Take your trousers off and get in to the tub.” It was a strong command, making the Sub’s fingers itch to take of his clothes and get into the tub.

“Turn around,” John said, his hands gripping onto the waist band tightly, making his knuckles turn white.

Sherlock’s eyes grew wide with wonder, his entire face lighting up just from those two words of defiance. “If you say please, I will,” the Dom bargained, which was much better than what John thought he was going to receive. He knew if it was the other brother, John would have been face down on the tile floor by now.

John sighed, “Fine. Will you ‘please’ turn around while I get undressed, oh great and powerful Dom.” Sherlock smirked again but turned around to give John his privacy. For an instant, the Sub realized his new advantage at catching the man off guard. The pale back was turned to him and he could strike before Sherlock even knew what hit him.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Sherlock said, still keeping his back to John. Shite, he can read minds, too? “Ten seconds and I’m turning around.”

Without thinking, John pulled his clothes down and stepped into the most delectable water he’d ever felt. He sank down, letting the curved porcelain support his body and the lip of the tub hold his head as the water soothed away all the aches and pains from sleeping in the pipes, which he had no other choice but to ignore at the time. A long exhale escaped from his lips and then he was lost in his own world until there was a soft but abrasive flannel rubbing along his shoulders. John jumped slightly, his nerves already fried, as was his brain from dealing with these two Doms. It wouldn’t hurt to let the man wash him, John decided, as long as he didn’t try any funny business.

“Good boy,” he heard a pleasant voice whisper, sending shivers down his spine. The warm cloth made its way over his neck, face, arms, feet, and chest until John was nothing but a giant lump of relaxed muscles. “I’m going to wash your privates now, John, is that okay with you?” The kind voice asked from outside the blissful bubble John was in. The teen nodded lazily, even the muscles in his neck refused to work. That’s when John realized it couldn’t just be the water that was making him so plaint. How did he…I didn’t even notice…fuck, he’s putting me under!

The same warm flannel began washing down to his lower belly, following the light hairs. Suddenly, a shock wave of pleasure ran through his veins at the firm touch of the Dom’s hand where John didn’t want him to be but never wanted him to stop. “Sss-sstop,” John mumbled, trying to get his heavy tongue to work. As soon as he spoke, the hand was removed and it felt as if he’d been wrapped tightly in a blanket that was suddenly ripped away.

When John opened his eyes, he saw Sherlock staring back at him intently, calculating. “Good boy,” he said but it didn’t hold as much weight as the first time, which confused John even more. How can two words be the same but different? “Dry off and then come into our bedroom. I want to put the collar on you,” was all Sherlock said before he stood up, placed a towel around his waist and left John alone and hard in the bath tub. Did he just say ‘our room?’

“What the fuck?” Was all the boy could say, rubbing his pruney hands through his now clean hair. When did he wash my hair? Without the warmth and caressing touch, John found it easy to force down his need, telling himself it was nothing but a physical response to the bastard’s manipulations. The worst part was though, that it felt bloody amazing to go under that far. He couldn’t think that way, John knew, it would do no good to him and especially no good to Harry or Molly for him to get lost in Subspace for the rest of his life.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, John stepped out of the tub, pulling the plug to drain out the cursed water and then wrapped the largest towel he could find around his waist. When he made his way into the room, John froze at the sight of Sherlock sitting on the bed and Mycroft standing next to him with a thick leather collar in his hand. He hadn’t even realized he was backing up until Mycroft commanded him, “come in and kneel before me, John.”

His feet began moving towards the Dom and before John knew it, his knees were on the ground and he saw Mycroft give his brother a smug look. A wide grin came across John’s face as he forces down the wonderful tingles in his spine. Before Mycroft could even react, John lunged forward, head-butting the man right in the crotch. A loud shout in pain made the hand on his head forcing his face to the ground worth it. “You little-“ Mycroft said, pushing John’s face roughly into the carpet.

“Mycroft!” Sherlock’s voice interrupted before the older brother could do anything other than grip John’s hair painfully. For a moment, John saw a glint of hope, a tiny spark that made the boy think Sherlock would save him. He needed someone in his corner, anyone to help him so he didn’t have to fight alone. Then, “put the collar on first, we’ve already wasted enough energy without collecting any solid data.” A piece of John’s spirit broke off, falling and crashing to the floor much like the letter opener in the bathroom. That’s what you get for getting your hopes up, you idiot. They are both Doms who could care less about you. Hell, they just want data to help them fuck with other Subs.    

“Fine. Put it on yourself, John. NOW.” Whatever Mycroft was transmitting to him, John never stood a chance. Within seconds, the Sub grabbed the chocolate colored collar and wrapped it around his neck. The metal clasp in the back latched together and then suddenly, there was a sharp pain spreading through his neck as if something had broken through his skin underneath the collar. The pain was excruciating, causing John’s muscles to give out and he found his forehead braced on Mycroft’s thigh. When he tried to pull away however, the man dropped a hand to his head, petting him like a whimpering dog and then inspected the source of the pain in John’s nape. “Good, only a little bit of blood. We wouldn’t want you staining the floors, now would we John?”

“F-Fuck you,” John was able to get out, his defiance weak from the pain and the humiliation that he was forced to put the collar on himself.

“Now, now,” Mycroft scolded, tugging the boy’s hair slightly, “I was going to command you and make the pain go away but with that kind of language…” John whimpered when something shifted and clicked at the back of his neck. What is happening? What is on the back of this collar? Well whatever it is, it feels like it’s latching on to my fucking spine. “Since this is your first collar, I will help you. All you have to do is ask me to, John.”

He wanted to, God did he ever, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t let them have his willing submission that easily. They would have to fight him every single step of the way until Jim and Harry came back or he was able to find Molly and run. “Fuck you,” he growled again, his pride nowhere near soothing the ache in his body like the bliss Sherlock had forced upon him in the bathroom.

“Pity, that’s all you seem to be able to say and you know I do not approve of that kind of language, John. Some might think you were doing it on purpose…to get a rise out of me, as they say.”

“Just punish him and get it over with Mycroft before we die of old age,” Sherlock snapped and left the room without so much as a look at John, who was trembling. It’s cold and I have a towel on! Of course I’m trembling! I’m not scared of this smug twat.

“Oh, you should be, John. After I’m done with you, you won’t even think those offensive words, let alone speak them to your Dom.” Mycroft whispered, cupping the back of John’s head to force the Sub to look up at him. How are you going to get yourself out of this one, John?               

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 – Liquid State

“Are you thinking about escaping again, John?” Mycroft asked, holding up his hand to inspect what John assumed were impeccably clean fingernails. The Sub didn’t answer, he would never answer if it wasn’t a command and even then, John would give it everything he had not to obey those arse holes. Then maybe, just maybe, they will let me go. “What, no ‘fuck you?’” the Dom said, the words sounding strange to John’s ears. “I would prefer to get more of a baseline reading but I’m afraid I cannot allow your disobedience to go unpunished.” Mycroft ran his fingers through the teen’s hair, the pressure a bit more to indicate it wasn’t a reassuring gesture. “I guess I can’t really blame you, a Sub without a Dom to show him proper behavior and what, with your disability.”

I'll show you ‘disability’ you fucker! John knew the man was trying to bait him, he wasn’t stupid, but his resulting action was and the boy paid for it in spades. Before his knees even lifted from the ground to…do what, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead but in the end it didn’t matter and a burst of pain, stemming from his neck, shot all the way down his spine, bringing a cry of pain from the boy’s lips. “Hnnggn,” John’s whimpers turned into growls as he braced himself on shaky arms and legs, panting like he’d just run five kilometers. The pain had only lasted five, maybe seven, seconds until the room was silent again and Mycroft was standing above him like nothing happened. “What?” Before he could even catch his breath, another wave of pain shot through his body, making the small bump on the back of his neck throb and ache while he continued to shake and shiver on the floor.

“You do not get to ask questions, John. It’s time you learned your place and earn your right to the bliss your Dom can provide for you. Soon you will see your position as a blessing and privilege, not a curse or right, all thanks to that little piece of leather on your neck and a firm hand. Mycroft’s voice sounded like static in the background as the pain and panic filled John’s mind. This is real. This is really happening and I can’t get away! How am I going to get away! “You accept it, John. There is nowhere to run,” the Dom grabbed him under the arm and began lifting the boy to stand on his own wobbly legs. “There is nowhere to hide and there is no more denying what you are, a Sub, my Sub. Do you understand?”

John glared into the icy blue eyes, not wanting to back down until he saw Mycroft’s other hand reach into his pocket. The remote, that’s what’s controlling the collar, I have to get it. Quickly, John lowered his head, pressing his chin to his chest to avoid any eye contact and portray the epitome of submission. “Yes, sir,” he whispered, making his voice meek. Inside though, the teenager was jumping up and down, patting himself on the back for figuring out his next plan of action to get away. The celebration was over the moment it began though and John was screaming, his knees hitting the floor with a loud thud as the collar produced another wave of electricity throughout his nervous system.

“Manipulations will not be tolerated either, John,” Mycroft’s stern voice bled through, the grip he had on John’s hair almost a welcome pain compared to the collar. “As much as I am enjoying your insistent rebellions, I have work to do in my office today. Put these clothes on,” Mycroft said but it wasn’t a command, which John was…thankful for. I don’t want his bloody bliss mind control bullshite. John’s face must have portrayed more confusion than he thought because his hesitation earned a knowing smile from the man who appeared to be all-seeing and all-fucking-knowing. “I will not force my dominance upon you, John. My transmission would only allow you to drop pleasantly into subspace and prohibit you from learning your lesson. However, if you refuse to obey when I tell you…well, I’m sure you are smart enough to deduce what will be used as a deterrent.”

John slowly got to his feet, forcing back a yelp as the skin on his neck was pulled taught, straining the wound created from the collar. “Your neck should heal in a couple of days,” Mycroft told him. It was awkward, really awkward, as John stood by the bed, naked for all the man to see; however, he was relieved that the Dom seemed more interested in looking at his neck than his exposed arse. “I laced the insert with an antiseptic so we shouldn’t have to worry about infection, though Sherlock or I will be inspecting the site regularly.” We shouldn’t have to worry? Give me a break.

John didn’t hear the last part when he saw a thin pair of gray cotton shorts and a black shirt lying on the bed. No pants? Fuck, that can’t be good. Well, at least I don’t have to walk around naked. “You will be walking around naked if you do not have those clothes on in ten seconds,” Mycroft’s voice was still stern and obviously dominant but no command to make the pain in his nape go away. Fucker. I wonder if this collar tells him what I’m thinking, too. Not wanting to push this boundary, especially with what happened with Sherlock in the bath, John threw on the clothes, which offered little other than mild modesty. “Good boy,” Mycroft praised. John hated that Goosebumps formed on his arms at the simple praise. Maybe I can cut this thing off my neck, what would happen then? The thought was brief, although John filed it away for later when he wasn’t being threatened with electric shock. “Come.”

John followed Mycroft, who insisted the boy walk in front of him with a simple nod and fake smile. Perhaps given the chance, John might have tried to jump the Dom while his back was turned, even though he was a good head shorter and fifty pounds lighter, that had never stopped the Sub before when taking down threats to his gang. My family, my only family. God I hope they’re safe. He wasn’t given a chance though, any chance for that matter, which gave John a slight since of childish pride that the man, a Dom, was scared to turn his back to a sixteen year old Sub.

After going downstairs, making a few turns past the kitchen and what looked like a huge empty room, they finally made it to Mycroft’s office. The door was shut behind him and John felt even more trapped than he had on his knees being shocked to tears. His eyes darted across the room, looking for any possible exit if need be but the only obvious one was the door, which was now closed and had Mycroft standing in front of it. “Now, I know you are used to living on your own, or as rumor has it with a choice few other Subs, I understand that you see no need in restraining yourself. However, as my Sub-“

“Aren’t I Sherlock’s Sub too?” John heard himself ask. Damn, I really need to work on that filter. As expected, the pain was instant, hell, John didn’t even realize Mycroft had the remote in his hand until the teenager was on his knees and clutching at his neck reflexively. If he didn’t know any better, John would have sworn the pain lasted longer this time than the last but it was hard to count accurately when it felt like every nerve in his body was on fire.

When he came too, wiping a bit of drool that had traveled down his chin, John had to fight back every instinct, which told him to defy and fight until one of them was lying unconscious and bloody on the floor. There were too many odds stacked against him though, the Sub knew this, and used the brain power that was used to locate weakness and openings for fighting, John thought about how he would escape from right under their noses.

“As I said,” Mycroft started again, as if the last ten seconds hadn’t just happened, “you will not talk like some ill-mannered boy, who thinks cursing makes him look tough.” The Dom walked over to his desk, opened the drawer and pulled something out that John couldn’t see. When the teenager tried to stand up to get a better view and possibly preparing himself to run if Mycroft turned around with a gun in his hand, he was stopped only by the Dom holding up his hand and motioning for him to stay still. “Because you’re not tough, are you John?” Mycroft asked as if he was talking to a five year old who refused to eat his vegetables. “I know you like to think you are. Open,” he said, presenting a white bar of what John realized was soap in front of the Sub’s mouth, waiting patiently.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me? You think a bar of soap is going to stop me from saying ‘you cock sucking, twat licking, mother fucking bastard? It only took one shake from the blonde head for the pain to return, bringing the water in his eyes to form to tears as he hunched over, punching the floor with his fist as hard as he could, hoping to transfer some of the pain to the wood floor. The action only made his hand hurt after the pain in his neck stopped. When John pulled himself up, his stomach muscles twitching, he was met with the same look from amused blue eyes and a white bar. Damn it, damn it, damn it! John opened his mouth, keeping his threatening gaze on the Dom as the bar of soap was inserted all the way until the edges were braced just past his molars while the other end was sitting on his lips.

“See, this is what happens to scared little boys who try to act tough,” Mycroft said with a smile. It tasted horrible, not at first of course because thankfully the man didn’t wet it, but now, as John’s own saliva and warm mouth started to turn the solid form into liquid, the taste was putrid. Well, I haven’t been able to brush my teeth in two weeks so I guess this helps. John tried to joke but it didn’t help the nasty suds rolling around on his tongue or the knot in his stomach from hurt pride. It was embarrassing and John knew that Mycroft knew how childish the punishment was, which led the Sub’s mind to go round and round thinking about what the man’s plan was and what kind of data they were looking for from the collar around his neck.

“Good boy,” Mycroft said after two minutes of standing in front of John, waiting for the soap to activate. “Now, do you know what wall sits are?” Oh no, nononono! You are not making this into some naughty corner shite. I’m not a child. John opened up his mouth to tell the Dom where he could shove the stupid bar of soap when said bar was shoved even farther back by Mycroft’s hand, shaving off little pieces, which landed in between his cheek and gum. “Perhaps I should have been more clear. Do you know what wall sits are? Nod for yes, shake your head for no.” John nodded, choking from the soap hitting his gag reflex. Why did they have to make soap taste so bad? Fuck, why did they have to make it so long?  

John nodded, trying to form ‘fuck you’ around the soap but it only came out as a garble and made some of the suds slid down his throat when he swallowed. “Good, then assume the position over in the corner where I can keep an eye on you while I finish up some paper work. Once I think you’ve had enough I will offer you my comfort and remember,” Mycroft put a heavy hand on John’s shoulder, giving him a fake sympathetic smile, “all you have to do is accept it. If not, however, then you will continue to stand in the corner without relief.” John bared his teeth around the soap, both from trying to act angry and to get his lips away from the suds, which were now burning his mouth slightly. “I will not tell you again,” the Dom warned and John finally gave up, reasoning that the punishment could have been a lot worse. For some strange reason though, he thought it would be easier to go up against a whip or paddle then to be left alone in the corner with his thoughts turning on themselves.

Being thankful for all the running, climbing, and sneaking that came with being a thief was something John never considered until now. He was in the far corner of Mycroft’s office, his back straight against the wall while his hips went out at a ninety degree angle and his feet were planted firmly on the ground. John knew he looked ridiculous trying to sit in midair and he also realized that’s what Mycroft wanted. The Dom thought he was just some little kid playing games and would soon crumble as soon as a little humiliation or pain came into play. Well you can go fu- Before he could even finish his own thought, pain shot threw him, the surprise making him bite deeper into the soap and his back to slide down more, forcing more strain on his thighs.

“That’s better. Now you’re in the correct position,” Mycroft said without even looking up from the papers on his desk. John tried counting by threes, reciting Pi, which was stupid because all he remembered from his two years at the Sub school was 3.14, naming the oceans, naming the continents, anything he could think of to stop his mind from being in the here and now. It was working until suddenly, his friends floated into his thoughts as if paddling down the river he tried to damn up. They were caught, being auctioned all because he couldn’t keep them safe, all because he couldn’t protect them. I just need to know that they are okay. Please just let them be okay.  

Then, he fell with a loud thump, his teeth smashing together and splitting the bar in half. One end dropped to the floor while the other seemed to turn to horrible mush inside his mouth. John spit it out, gasping and gagging on the floor, unaware of the Dom staring at him from behind the large wooden desk. “I did not give you permission to spit out the soap, nor did I say you could break position, John.” Mycroft never left his desk, thank God for small favors.

“Yeah, well you can-“ John was about to start a fight, anything that would take his mind off the horrible thoughts of his friends being sold to sadistic Doms, when he was met with something unexpected; a knock at the door. Both men looked up at the source of the noise, John excited to have a new variable that he could work with and maybe make an ally to aid in his escape.

“Put the soap back in your mouth and stand with your nose in the corner, John.” Mycroft said but still didn’t order. John really could have used it too, the numbness spreading through his burning thigh muscles would have been appreciated but alas, the Dom just stared at him calmly. “Things don’t change just because we have company, John,” he stood up from his desk and started walking, more like stalking, up to the boy, who was now half way between sitting and standing. “And if you try to harm my guest,” Mycroft placed a hand under John’s armpit and grabbed one half of the bar of soap in the other, “we shall test the battery life in that collar of yours.” The soap was presented again, followed by a threatening smile. The knock came again, making John jump and unconsciously open his mouth to have the smaller piece stuck in, which thankfully only reached midway to the back of his tongue. “Go,” the Dom said, rubbing a possessive hand through John’s blonde hair.

It took him no time at all to stumble into the corner, his thighs still felt like jelly but he supported himself by propping his head against the wall. He didn’t like it, it was too exposing and made John feel vulnerable to have his back turned to the entire room, especially now that a new addition was about to be made. The thought was horrible but John prayed that it would only be Sherlock coming to get him and perform whatever experiments he wanted. I guess they are right, the devil you know is better than the one you don’t.  

The door opened and John froze, closing his eyes together to listen and feel what was going on behind his back. “Ah Gregory, I wasn’t expecting you,” Mycroft said, his voice deceptively calm. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, Molly is fine,” the voice said, causing John to instinctively turn around to only see the open door with half of Mycroft’s body visible as he talked to the man named Gregory outside the room. “She just keeps talking about other Subs named John, Harry, Mike, and…Jim,” Greg said and John could tell he was reading off a list of the information he’d retrieved from Molly. How dare you! Doming a six year old? Fuck, I hope you’re pleased with yourself. Why don’t you see how you handle me? John’s threats sounded fantastic in his mind; however, the only problem was when he actually saw Greg walk into the room. The man was about as tall as Mycroft and obviously a Dom, Molly’s Dom.

“Mmm, yes, I actually decided to keep John as my Sub although we haven’t been able to locate the other rogues,” Mycroft said, turning his head towards John who knew he was a pathetic picture, which was possibly why he wasn’t told to turn back around. Drool was already starting to drip out of his mouth again as the Sub stared wide-eyed at the two Doms glaring at him from their spot at the door. “Sherlock has been studying Receptor Deficiency Disorder for a while now and young John here has just that, making a perfect Sub for both of us.”

“That’s wonderful,” Greg said, giving John the first genuine smile the teen had seen in a long time. Okay, I can’t tell what’s up with this guy. Not good. “Too many Subs are put down after they’re diagnosed with RDD. I hope your brother comes up with something, yeah?”

“Oh it shouldn’t be too hard. After all, some believe it is only an attitude problem that can be fixed with a little discipline. Isn’t that right, John?” Mycroft asked. John swallowed nervously, realizing he still had the soap in his mouth too late and started to cough, hacking up bits of soap onto the floor. John crouched over onto his hands and knees, sticking his finger into his mouth to get out the bits stuck in his teeth.

“Is that soap?” He heard Greg ask. No shite, genius.

“Indeed. We are actually in the middle of his punishment. Was there something you needed, Gregory?”

“Oh yes, umm, I wanted to ask about the other kids, Harry, Mike, and Jim. There have been more robberies in surrounding neighborhoods and those Subs are our main suspects. Plus, according to Molly, they are all just kids on the street, homeless and most likely runaways.”

“Go fuck yourself,” John spat at the grey haired Dom and before he knew what happened, electricity or whatever the hell the collar sent though his nerves, set his entire body on fire. It wouldn’t stop, the pain just kept coming and coming, wave after wave of pain, making the boy convulse on the floor and scream. It didn’t stop until he heard a loud deep voice yell and then the other voices started shouting back.

“You’ve had your hour and now he’s mine,” John thought he head Sherlock say but it didn’t make any sense, so he assumed it was the disrupted neurons firing in his brain. The voices only halted when John felt the ground leave him and he was floating. Wait, am I dead? Did that fucker shock me to death? “No, you’re not dead.” Damn, I think it might be better if I was.                    

Chapter Text

Chapter 6 – Unsustainable

John was placed on a soft bed, belly down, as he gave a loud groan of discomfort. A soothing hand ran up and down his back while another fiddled with the shock collar around his neck. “Are your toes numb?” Sherlock asked behind him, “wiggle them for me.” John sighed into the pillow positioned under his head, not even realizing it was a command before it was too late. Drool pooled out of his mouth as his toes twitched and danced of their own accord. “Good boy,” the praise created a strange haze around him, offering an oasis for his thirst, which he thought unquenchable until he’d stumbled into the Holmes’ household. Wait. Holmes’ household? I’m not safe, don’t drop. Not safe.

All at once, a harness tugged John out of the ocean of bliss he was drowning in, gasping for breath. John flailed like a fish on the bed, his muscles still on fire as he twisted his body around on its back to stare wide eyed up at an amused Sherlock. “Hmm, only one minutes twenty-two seconds this time. One minute less than in the tub, perhaps your state of distress is the culprit. How distressed do you feel, John, on a scale of one to ten? No, don’t answer that, you would only lie anyways.” Sherlock rambled on and on, pacing back and forth, ignoring John and looking at his phone. “Hmm, it appears your dopamine levels spiked and then flattened out almost immediately but your heart rate was constantly low,” the Dom stroked his chin curiously, glancing from John, to his phone, and then the door.

“How?” Was all John could think to ask, confused and still hurting from the older brother’s sadistic tendencies.

“Oh don’t be obtuse, John, it does not bode well for Sub stereotypes,” Sherlock scoffed. He flicked the collar once to show what he was talking about, “my brother likes to pretend this is just a behavioral incentive but it so much more than that, and I know how to use it.”

“Please let me go,” John asked before he could even stop himself. Sherlock looked down at him, a wide smile now stretching over his features and John could practically see the light bulb illuminate above his head. Well that can’t be good. It was as if the Dom hadn’t heard a word John had said as he slowly strode over to the bed, phone in hand and something horrifying in his silver eyes. “Sh-Sherlock?” John said, worrying that the sadist trait ran in the family. The Sub tried to scoot away, earning as much space between him and Sherlock as possible; only to realize his thighs were still useless from the wall sits. This wasn’t there plan, was it? Holy shite! Did Mycroft wear me out so his little fucking brother could…I’m so screwed, literally.

Trapped on the bed like a rabbit in a snare, John squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the worst. He felt the bed dip as Sherlock grew closer. Should I fight? Would he like that better? Should I just lay here and be boring? Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! John tightened when he felt a large hand on his shoulder and pathetically gave into the slight pressure Sherlock added, pushing the Sub back down to the bed, chest first. “Please don’t,” John whispered, still keeping his eyes closed. Wait, why do I keep saying please to these arseholes?

“This will be much less painful if you relax, John,” Sherlock said, his voice a bit more engaged rather than the aloofness John had experienced only moments ago. Suddenly, there was weight shifting above him and John opened his eyes just in time to see a hand braced by his head, parallel to a new pressure against the side of his hips and thighs from Sherlock’s inner calves. Oh hell no, I can’t let this happen!

Although he knew his efforts were eons too late and in vain, John panicked and bucked up his rear in an attempt to knock Sherlock off. However, the Sub realized that his thought process was working against him when he recognized his action would only spur Sherlock on as the Dom’s cock was right above him and...soft? As if sensing the touch of relief at the fact that the Dom was not hard and ready to go ‘balls to the wall’ so to speak, a deep chuckle exuded from the man above him.

“That’s it,” Sherlock said in a long exhale as his hands met at the base of John’s spine. The teenager shivered slightly at the contact, still on edge, prepared for anything and unwilling to relax in case the man above him attempted to use his domination to question him about the other Subs. What was that guy’s name? Greg? He has to be working for the Holmes,’ right? I mean, why else would he have Molly and why else would- “Stop thinking,” the deep voice rumbled and John could almost feel the vibrations through Sherlock’s hands as they dug a bit deeper into the tense muscles of his lower back. “Molly is taken care of and now all you have to do is relax.”

John actually moaned in pleasure as Sherlock kneaded his back; the tight knots and deep aches proof of sleeping in a pipe for years. Every time Sherlock worked a tough spot, especially at the base of the teen’s skull, the pain would become less and less until John felt nothing but the tingly warmth from the blood flow increasing under his skin. John had no idea fingers could do this to someone but as he continued to drool and murmur nonsense, the Sub was thankful for the small bit of relief. “Shhh,” a voice said to him, coming from the edges of darkness where John now floated. “Can you hear me John?”

“Mmhmm,” the teen answered, a small smile on his face as a sense of safety and contentment rolled over him in waves. Nothing really mattered, John was convincing himself of that fact with every sweep of his Dom’s hands. My Dom? My…

“John? Do you want to tell me about the other Subs?” That should have been an odd question, John tried to tell himself, but shivers of pleasure running through his body told him there was nothing to worry about.

“No,” he said, his voice thick and tired from an overload of pleasure.

“Why not?”

Why not? Why not? Why can’t I tell him? I don’t remember. Well, I guess it wasn’t that important of a reason, right? “’Cause you’re a Dom…Doms are…are fu’ing arse…holes,” John moaned when one of the amazing hands on his back released a knot of tension under his shoulder blade. For some reason his tongue wasn’t working right but that didn’t matter, no, the only thing that mattered was his Dom was asking questions and John would answer anything to remain suspended in bliss forever.

“I see,” the voice chuckled behind him, which created goosebumps on the boy’s skin at the thought of making his Dom laugh. “What if I ‘asked’ you to tell me about the others, hmm? Would you do that for me, John?”   

“I could…I could do that, I guess,” John whispered into the pillow.

“That’s good, John. That’s very good.” Suddenly, the hands were gone but John still felt foggy, still felt…dropped! He sub dropped me! “No, no, don’t start thinking yet,” Sherlock hushed the boy as he started to twitch and struggle to fight against the unconquerable. “I won’t ask you anymore questions but you must stay under for me. Can you do that,” a smooth hand stroked over the small bump on the back of John’s neck, causing the teen to drop back into the bliss Sherlock had covered him with. How could I not even know I was under? This is bad, fuck, this is really bad. I almost told him about Harry, Jim, and Mike.

“Yeah,” he heard himself say. It felt somewhat like an out of body experience, though John had never had one but hearing himself say words that he hadn’t intended to say was enough to freak anyone out. “I’m sorry,” John felt he needed to apologize to his Dom for trying to come back too early. If he was good, John thought, if he was well behaved maybe Sherlock would keep him under until the memories that haunted his nightmares would go away completely. “Jim and Harry are…”

“Shhh, you don’t have to tell me yet, John,” Sherlock continued to stroke down his spine over and over again until the hands were gone and the weight on John’s bum was removed as well. “Just stay right here and don’t move. I’ll be back in a moment,” Sherlock told him. Even though it wasn’t an order, John obeyed to keep himself from coming out of the peaceful haze. There was a soft click from what John assumed was the door closing and then silence, save for the deep rhythmic breathing from his own throat.

After a minute, John felt the warmth slowly fading from his limbs and his ears were picking up something strange on the other side of the door. Yelling? Shouting? Within a half a second, adrenaline shot through the Sub, clearing any post Sub-drop haze. He was thrown back into his childhood home, hearing his parents shouting at each other and at Harry while he hid under his covers, clutching his stuffed dog tightly to his chest. Not wanting to lose himself, John shook his head and punched the wall, letting the pain in his knuckles bring him back to the here and now, where he wasn’t a scared weak little boy.

John knew the Doms had heard the bang he created with his fist meeting, and punching through, the wall when the arguing stopped. His hand was bright red, a few lacerations at the apex of his middle two knuckles, tears were starting to fall at their own accord, and there was a giant hole in the bedroom wall. Yep, no hiding this one. The door flew open before John could even think of a good excuse. “What is going on in here?” Mycroft boomed, taking two large steps into the room and gaping at John, who in turn was gaping at his own hand. “John, kneel!” The elder Holmes ordered, pushing his dominance across the room, hitting John like a lead weight. Oh yeah, he’s angry.

“What happened?” Sherlock asked just as John’s knees hit the floor with a loud thud. However, the chemical reaction created from Mycroft’s command numbed the pain in both his hand and knee caps.

“What do you think happened?” Mycroft asked, turning to his younger brother and gesturing to John with a flippant motion. “You can’t do that to a Sub, especially not one as broken and unpredictable as this one.”

“Hey!” John shouted, or at least tried to shout. He was fighting a losing battle of staying away and listening to the conversation.

“Quiet, boy!” Mycroft didn’t even look at him but his hand in the pocket where the collar remote was housed, was threat enough. John shut up. “You dropped him, unconventionally and carelessly I might add, and then you leave him in a room by himself. Not to mention you retrieved zero information about the others, even when you had him under? This information is more important than your little experiments, Sherlock!” Mycroft growled at his brother, who looked quite pleased with himself rather than terrified.

“He’s fine, Mycroft, don’t get your knickers in a bunch. I’ll talk to Greg, I already know where their little hideout is, quite obvious if you weren’t so-“

“You listen to me, brother mine,” Mycroft took a step closer to Sherlock, threatening him with a finger. Before the older man could finish though, he glanced over at John, who was still kneeling on the floor, cradling his hand to his stomach. John started to feel really stupid, sitting on the floor like a dog, waiting for his masters to come fetch him. He glared at Mycroft but before he could even think about standing up, the collar around his neck activated and John turned into a shaking heap on the floor. The pain was good, the pain cleared his mind, helped him focus so he wouldn’t be tricked into telling on his friends. “Bandage the wounds you caused and then bring him down for dinner, Sherlock. Don’t leave him alone this time.” With that, Mycroft exited the room, leaving John alone with the most manipulative Dom he’d ever met.

“Come,” it wasn’t an order, which John was grateful for, though he knew if he really tried he would be able to resist a direct command from the man. John stood up, forcing down a groan as the muscles in his hand twitched. However, everywhere else in his body, even the normal pain at the base of his skull was practically gone. Wow, magic fingers, that one. More like, dangerous fingers.

Sherlock motioned for John to sit on the edge of the tub while he retrieved a white box full of medical supplies. “Hold your hand out,” again, strangely, not a command.

John held out his hand but couldn’t stop the sarcasm from coming back to him. “What, ran out of juice. You know, stamina is half the battle, mate.” The teen tried not to smile at the perfect setup and timing to everything back on track.

“You know,” Sherlock smiled, which was not the reaction John was hoping for. He pulled out an alcohol wipe and dabbed his gently onto the Sub’s bleeding knuckles. “For someone who was shaking in fear not ten minutes ago because he thought I was going to rape him, you make a lot of sexual references.”

“I’m sixteen, what do you expect,” John actually laughed, surprised at his own reaction. This is so not good, this is how they get you, John. Make you feel comfortable with them and then BAM!

“I suppose that makes sense,” Sherlock replied, pulling out a roll of gauze to wrap around John’s hand. “You didn’t break anything, that’s good.”

“You lied,” John said, lifting his chin a bit in challenge. “I didn’t tell you where the other Subs are. You don’t know our hideout.”

“I do know your hideout but I never said you told me,” Sherlock kept his eyes focused on John’s hand.

“Then how do you know. It’s not possible and I’m not going to tell you! You might have put me under once-“

“Three times, John.”

“But it won’t happen again and you will never find them if I have anything to say about it,” John tried to pull his hand away but was met with a steel grip.

“The metal dust under your fingernails and the salty stench in your hair when you first arrived here indicates you lived in the pipes for at least a couple of months now, possibly a year. Your older sister, Harry, is a Sub who you convinced to run away with you, which is why you feel responsible for her. Mike and Jim are both runaways you found, though you know little about either you protect them with your life. Your parents, nor those of the other Subs, know where you are and the fact that none of you, including Molly, show up with a missing person’s report I’m assuming they do not care. Thus, leaving you with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide,” Sherlock said in one breath, “not even in here,” the Dom released John’s hand and poked him in the forehead.

“That was…that was bloody amazing,” John said, in awe but completely freaked out at the display of an almost omnipotent nature.

“Really?”

Yeah, really. Holy shite!”

“Huh, that’s not what people normally say,” Sherlock stood up, placing his hands on his hips.

“What do they normally say?”

“Piss off,” Sherlock deadpanned, bringing a laugh from John because yes, he could see the Dom getting punched in the face after displaying that kind of observation. As John laughed though, in the back of his mind was that one nagging piece of information that told him Sherlock knew where Harry was and he was going to tell Greg exactly where to find them. I need to get into contact with the. Somehow…I have to warn them. “Come,” Sherlock motioned for John to stand up and then placed a warm hand on the Subs neck possessively. Instead of shrugging it off though, John left it there as it helped clear his mind so he could think of a way to escape. However, his thoughts could only seem to dwell on the hand resting at his nape and any thoughts of escape were far away and pointless.   

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 – Madness

John’s hand really hurt but, he supposed, that was rather the point of shoving it through the wall. The constant throbbing grounded him, made his senses more acute and his mind more aware of what was going on around him. However, the warm hand at the middle of his back, guiding him downstairs, seemed to test every ounce of will John had not to sigh and go to his knees in submission. It was his nature, he told himself, and those fucking Holmes’ were taking advantage of it just like every other Dom he’d met.

“What did I tell you about thinking so much, hmm?” Sherlock asked when they arrived at the bottom of the stairs. “There is nothing to worry about, John. All that is required of you is already right here,” the Dom brushed his hand over the small bump on the back of the teen’s neck. Without thinking, John swung around, ducking his head away from the contact and clenching his fists, which sent a wave of pain up his left arm.

“Don’t touch me,” John snapped, unconsciously taking a step backwards, “and don’t tell me what I think, either. I don’t care what you think you know, you pompous, egotistical, twat!” John took another step back from the Dom who seemed quite unaffected by the names thrown at him. “If you ever touch me again, I will break your fucking fingers!” The teen growled, practically baring his teeth to ward of any predators while he was injured and in a vulnerable state. 

“Hmm, interesting,” was all John received in return to his raging, tantrum really. He could feel the blood rising in his face, especially when Sherlock just smirked at him and then began walking towards the kitchen. “You didn’t seem to be adverse to my touch thirty minutes ago. As I recall, you were drooling on my pillow the entire time. What has changed?”

“Nothing’s changed,” John shouted, “you put me into subspace without my permission and now you wonder why I don’t want you touching me? Wow, a real genius you are?”

“No, that’s not it,” Sherlock scratched his chin thoughtfully, “perhaps a defense mechanism of sorts. Interesting.”

“Is that all you know how to say, you bloody arse-“

“That is enough!” John heard Mycroft yell from the kitchen. The man did not appear around the corner though, which John was ever grateful for as he counted up the amount of curse words he’d used. “Both of you, in here, now,” Mycroft basically growled out the command. Not only was John surprised at how quickly his own feet moved to follow the order, but also how Sherlock followed directly behind him without question. It was out of character for the younger brother, or any Dom for that matter, to follow such a strong dominate command on principle alone. Did Mycroft just Dom both of us at the same time? Wow, okay, that’s a bit scary.

As if to confirm John’s belief that Sherlock’s free will had been taken away for a few seconds, the youngest brother let out a growl and stared daggers back at the elder Holmes when they arrived in the kitchen. “How do you like it?” John muttered quietly, his lack of self-preservation astounding even him.

“That’s enough,” Mycroft said calmly this time and John felt pain shoot down his neck all the way to his toes until the boy finally fell to his knees. Like that, the calm numbness he had felt from the command was gone and replaced by a constant throbbing in the back of his neck. The room filled with an awkward silence. However, Mycroft seemed content with how things had turned out; John wobbly on his knees from the mixture of dopamine and pain running through his system and Sherlock moving to sit down in the only other chair at the table. Wait, where did all the other chairs go? “Devon has prepared lunch, though it has grown rather cold now,” the older man chastised John, who raged even more at being blamed instead of Sherlock.

“So starvation is my punishment? How original,” John said, annoyed and ready to cause a huge problem if they were going to make him eat out of a dog bowl. He had done it once, well was forced to do it once, and John swore he would die before something like that ever happened again. Not only was it humiliating but the symbolic power play behind it put too many cards in the Dom’s hands.

“Let me be perfectly clear, John, because you seem to have forgotten why and how you arrived in this position,” Mycroft started, pushing back from the table a bit. “You possess a trait, a defect some might call it, which both myself and Sherlock require to complete our testing. As such, we need you in tip top shape if our findings are to be accurate. This means you are to eat three meals a day, bathe once a day, and sleep between six and eight hours every night. You have no say in these matters and if you attempt to rebel, as it seems your deficiency insists upon you doing so, I can assure you, John, you will not like the outcome. Do I make myself clear?” Mycroft was standing now and John could almost feel the coldness radiating from the man as if he created a giant shadow void of any sun.

“Yes,” John was proud of himself for stifling any cheek his mind came up with.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…Sir,” he couldn’t help but add a layer of venom to the words as they escaped his mouth. “Then, umm…where’s my food?” John asked bluntly, trying to keep it short so he didn’t say something he would regret.

“Ah, I’m glad you asked that, John,” Sherlock chimed in with a hint of excitement in his voice, which usually meant another test was coming up. Great, can’t wait. Alright, focus John. Try to figure out what they want and then use it against them. I can do that, right? Shouldn’t be too hard…right? “Though it might appear you have no say in what happens to you here, we will allow you to choose who you wish to feed you, bathe you, and sleep with you.” What? John paled at the younger brother’s words. This ride was getting worse and worse and he had no idea how to get off and even if he did, they surly wouldn’t let him.

“Y-you want me to-“ John motioned from Mycroft to Sherlock, his hand shaking slightly.

“Yes, one of us is going to feed you, John,” Mycroft said, sitting back down and scooting his chair closer to the table. “Make your decision now. Then, crawl over, kneel, and wait for one of your Masters to feed you. You have ten seconds to choose. Ten.”

John sat dumbly on his haunches, trying to make sense out of why they would let him choose. However, the thought of eating out of someone’s hand while he was on his knees infuriated John, clouding his rational mind with thoughts of escape and vengeance. I can’t think like that right now. There is no way I can escape with both of them in the room, especially not while I still have this collar around my neck. “Six.” Fuckfuckfuck, how did he already get to six? Okay, think John. “Four.” Which one is more dangerous, Sherlock or Mycroft? Mycroft was terrifying, yes, but he used the pain from the collar instead of his biology to control John. Sherlock on the other hand, could make the young Sub reveal all his secrets from just a back rub. Who is more dangerous? Well, with pain comes more clarity, right? I can’t think when I’m around Sherlock, which isn’t safe for the others. “One.”

John scurried over towards Mycroft’s chair, his hands leaving sweaty prints on the floor. Fuck, what did I just do? When he arrived to the end of the table, he sat there, waiting for more instructions. A large hand came around his neck, pulling him in closer until the side of John’s head was pressed up against the warmth of the older man’s thigh. “Good boy,” he heard Mycroft’s voice above him, accompanied by a hand running through his hair. Okay, okay, this is fine. I can handle this. Good choice, John. John’s celebration was cut short though, when he was presented with a grape in front of his mouth. “Open up,” Mycroft nudged the fruit against the Sub’s lips.

Instead of doing as he was told, John turned his head to the side, not willing to eat scraps from someone’s hands just yet. Damn, this would have been easier if he just put us under. Then I wouldn’t even remember eating. Without thinking, John looked over at Sherlock only to find the younger Dom was staring right at him, observing him, seeing right through him. John shivered from the piercing silver eyes, treading frantically to keep his head above the mercury ocean that stare forced him into.

Thankfully, well perhaps for John’s sanity, pain shot through his neck. His teeth bit down, piercing his tongue and making his jaw ache with the force of the shockwaves running through his body. Though he would never admit it, John wanted to kiss Mycroft’s hands for throwing him a rope to pull himself out of the trance Sherlock seemed to put him under. “I said, open,” Mycroft ordered again. This time, John opened his mouth to accept the food while keeping his eyes diverted to the ground and his head propped up against the Dom’s knee.

It actually wasn’t too bad, John considered for a moment as the sweet grape burst in his mouth. There was a constant hand on his head, which was still pressed gently against Mycroft’s thigh while he chewed. As if knowing how hungry John actually was, Mycroft lowered a piece of ham and cheese to the boy’s lips. “That’s it,” the praise seemed to make the food taste even better as it was popped into his mouth. It was strange letting his hands hang to his side, or perhaps even more strange the fact that he didn’t even want to move them to whip his mouth off. It would be nice, John though, if the gnawing thoughts in the back of his head would just leave him alone and let him bask in the calmness of oblivion.

However, thoughts of his mates sleeping in the cold, starving, just as he had done to avoid situations like this started to return, making the food churn in his stomach. He would rather starve than be hand fed delicious food, God is it delicious. It just wasn’t right, giving in like this, being forced to choose if he wanted the gallows or the firing squad. The only way they would take him seriously was if he showed them he couldn’t be bribed with such luxuries. This is why I ran away in the first place, to make a point! “John, don’t!” He head Sherlock shout at him, as if the man could see the half-baked plan coming to fruition.

It was too late though and John had already sunk his teeth into Mycroft’s hand. The Dom’s finger was the main target, however, the older man had seen what was about to happen and tried to pull away, providing John’s teeth with the fleshy part just under the pinky. John bit in like a rabid dog, not caring about repercussions or why he would even do such a thing. This wasn’t him; honestly, the teen never thought he was capable of doing such things. When an injured animal is backed into a corner though, who knows what it’s capable of?

Within seconds of making contact and tasting a bit of iron in his mouth, John fell back with a shout as his collar was triggered. “That is it!” Mycroft yelled, holding his injured hand up to inspect the damage. Sadly, John had only pierced the skin with one tooth, while the others only left whitee indentions. Oh well, I guess it’s the thought that counts. “We are taking him to IBAD for training. He is too feral to be around others right now, Sherlock. Experiments be damned.”

“Nonsense,” Sherlock said, standing up and walking over to the Sub lying on the floor, sprawled out and panting. “He’s just panicked by his own nature finally returning from its dormant state. A cave with silhouettes is nothing compared to actual grass beneath your feet, is it John?” The tall man was now standing above him, looking down with a wide smile on his face. “The pound wouldn’t know what to do with him, you know that Mycroft.”

“Fine,” the older Dom sighed, walking over to the sink to rinse his hand off, “but you are responsible for feeding him now. I expect him to be muzzled and punished afterwards, as well.”

“Of course, brother mine,” Sherlock said smoothly. John could practically hear the glee the man had in his voice; whether it was from Mycroft getting injured or the fact he was going to punish the Sub, John had no idea.

With a final glare, which John concluded could melt ice, towards the Sub on the floor, Mycroft left the room holding his hand to his chest. John smiled to himself pleasantly, enjoying the freedom his mind and body felt when he wasn’t touching Sherlock or Mycroft. The ground was cold, as was his body, but it was nice to be his own man. “Well, that was quite unexpected,” Sherlock broke the bliss John was trying to create for himself. “Though I must say, I was surprised you didn’t do more than bite. Come on, up you go,” he said, grunting as he hauled John up to his feet with a hand under his arm.

“Yeah, well don’t think I won’t do it to you too,” John spit out, puffing up his chest and baring his teeth again. I hope there is still some blood on them that would be intimidating. Eww gross, no, I hope I don’t. That’s just nasty. Damn, I can’t believe I did that.

“Your posturing is terrifying, John, but now it is time to finish lunch,” Sherlock rolled his eyes and wrapped a strong arm across the Sub’s chest. John was lifted into the air, his feet kicking as they left the ground, and hoisted into the chair. Except, instead of wood below him, Sherlock’s bony thighs were digging into his arse. John wiggled on the man’s lap, pushing at the firm hand around his waist. When he had bit Mycroft’s hand, this was definitely not the outcome John was thinking of. “Calm down. It is only food,” Sherlock said. The man didn’t even have the grace to sound winded from holding the struggling boy on his lap.

“Let go of me! I don’ want your food,” John said, feeling like a little kid throwing another tantrum because he didn’t want to eat his vegetables.

“I’m not forcing you to eat at my feet, John,” Sherlock paused, “unless…that’s what you really want. Is it John? Is that what your little outburst was about, hmm?” Sherlock placed his nose just above the nerve on the back of John’s neck. The boy could feel and even sense the man’s smile behind him. “Perhaps you are not trying to convince us but yourself it didn’t feel good to be hand fed,” he picked up a piece of buttered bread and held it to John’s lips. Not sure what to do and tired of struggling against himself and the immovable vice around his waist, John gave in, taking the bread into his mouth. “See, nice, isn’t it?” Sherlock asked. John hoped he was talking about the food but he had a bad feeling the question had nothing to do with the bead.

What if I bite him, too? Would he send me back to IBAD? Would that be better? Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know! “Shhh,” Sherlock cooed behind him, petting through his hair and offering a piece of ham dipped in some sort of cranberry sauce. To John’s horror, after he took the pork in his mouth, Sherlock kept his fingers pressed against his tongue to encourage the Sub to lick off the sauce. As quickly as the questions of what to do and how to escape entered his mind, they were gone as John slowly licked the tart liquid from his Dom’s fingers. John gave a soft sigh as the digits were removed and his body, no his subconscious, seemed to drop marginally until he found his head falling back to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder.

It was nice, John decided, nice to not have to be on the floor, nice to be warm, nice to not have to worry about anything or anyone. But I am supposed to worry…I have worry about Molly and…and…I can’t forget. I can’t fall. “Shh, that’s it,” he felt something cover his face. It was plastic, or maybe metal, John really couldn’t tell and honestly didn’t care as a strap pressed against the sides of his head and all the way around to the back. There was a soft click followed by praise, which made everything alright. Everything was alright.    

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 – Fury

When the food stopped coming, John closed his mouth and hummed softly, resting his head back on something warm but firm. His breathing evened out, but for some reason, every exhale seemed to warm his face with an odd mist. It wasn’t unpleasant, a bit strange yes, but almost soothing in a way. Especially now that he had a full belly, John thought he could just drift along forever, oblivious to the world around him. “John,” that stupid voice called to him, trying to bring him back up to a world he didn’t want to be in. “John, come back to me. Come on up,” Sherlock’s voice was like a gentle current, guiding John’s paper sail boat of a mind all the way back until he was sitting in the kitchen on the Dom’s lap. What’s on my face? Fucking hell, when did he put this on me?

Immediately, John panicked at the tight leather over his face. Nonononono! He tried to reach up and pull whatever it was off, but there was something around his arms too, keeping his hands free but unmovable behind his back. “Calm down, calm down,” the words were laced by a commanding tone, but John was in such a state of distress that his brain completely ignored the Dom’s words. He squirmed and kicked, breathing heavily through his nose, which thankfully was not obstructed by the muzzle. That’s when the memory hit him, ‘I expect him to be muzzled and punished afterwards, as well.’

“Nnnmmm” John tried to shout, but the leather muffled the sound, making his protests pointless. Finally, Sherlock let go of the grip he had on John’s forearms, letting the boy fall face first onto the ground. His instincts told him to put his hands out to catch himself, but with further assessment of his body, John realized his mouth was not the only thing bound. With his forehead braced on the tile, John pushed himself over onto his back, crushing his hands with his own weight. “Mmm fummkin ammshill,” the Sub shouted again, his face growing red with over exertion.

There was a dark brown leather strap on top of his shirt running all the way around his chest and back to connect two cuffs around each forearm, just under his elbow. The link kept his arms secure and then two more cuffs connected at his wrists allowed for zero movement, save for clenching his hands together until they turned white. John’s chest was forced forward as he lay there, helpless and furious, staring daggers up at the man who sat calmly in his chair. John wiggled around for a good five minutes, spitting muffled obscenities and straining his shoulders to break the leather.

Soon enough, he was completely worn out, breathing heavily through his nose as a few stray tears ran down the side of his face and into the leather straps around his head. The worst part was that he couldn’t even wipe them away. All John could do was lay there until Sherlock took pity on him and helped him stand. Wait a minute you stupid twat, your legs aren’t bound.

Finally thinking straight, John sat up, his stomach muscles straining, and was able to get his feet under him. “There we go,” Sherlock said almost proudly. “Now are you ready to listen?” The Dom asked, grabbing hold of John’s shoulders to keep him from fidgeting, or possibly even running. Although John knew running would be stupid and pointless…kicking on the other hand, seemed like a grand idea to get his point across.

John used his bare heel to aim for Sherlock’s shin, putting all the force he could behind the attack. A grunt escaped behind the mask though when the Dom grabbed his foot in mid-air, holding it hostage to make John jump a few times to keep his balance. “I guess not,” Sherlock mocked, keeping a steel grip on his foot. “Let me know when you’re done.” This wasn’t funny, this wasn’t funny at all and that stupid fucking Dom was making a joke out of tying someone up against their will! John growled once and then halted his movements when the muscle in his thigh started to cramp up from the awkward angle. “Good, now I’m going to put your foot down, John. If you try to kick me again I will put you on your back, is that understood.” John breathed out an angry huff through his nose, but nodded so his foot would be released.

When he was back on two legs, John backed away from the taller man, running into the same wall he had hid behind when Mycroft caught him. “This,” Sherlock held up a strange rounded barrel shaped key, “is the key to the arm harness and muzzle.” For some reason, hearing the words out loud made the devices feel that much heavier, causing John to whimper slightly and hang his head in defeat. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this and it wasn’t fair! “Now, now,” Sherlock offered a comforting hand, running it smoothly through John’s hair, “this is only for today…if you behave, of course.” How the fuck can I misbehave when I can’t even give someone the proper finger like this. “Perhaps you will only need this lesson once,” Sherlock pointed his finger at John’s face, tapping the leather muzzle, “do not bite the hand that feeds you, literally or figuratively.” Sherlock smiled at this, no doubt basking in the fact that his brother almost lost a finger.

John simply nodded, blowing out a bit of hot air, which ricocheted off the leather and blew a bit of hair from his brow. “Let’s have a look here,” Sherlock grabbed ahold of John’s head, turning it this way and that as if the Sub was nothing but a rag doll. “There is padding but you threw quite a fit back there.” His head was pushed forward into the man’s chest while the two straps, one above and one below his ear, were readjusted so they didn’t pinch the small hairs or interfere with the collar. Heaven forbid. John closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose to find a sweet and spicy scent coming from the Dom’s shirt. Coconut? Cinnamon? Who smells this good? It was strangely, and dangerously, relaxing, so John took a few more discreet sniffs then pulled away roughly.

“It shouldn’t chaff the skin but I’ll check it, along with the collar insert, when we get back.” ‘When we get back?’ “Ah, yes,” Sherlock said, reading John’s inquisitive look, “we are going on a little trip today. Mycroft’s idea actually so don’t be surprised if we make a detour to that pastry shop next to the IBAD center.” They’re…they’re turning me in! He’s going to put me up on for auction, oh God, I’ve got to get out of here!

Suddenly, John couldn’t breathe. He tried to gulp in air through his mouth but the leather only allowed a straw full and his nose wasn’t doing the trick either. His chest felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, and they were going to sell him to God knows who and he would never be able to get back to his sister. He was going to die at the hands of some filthy sadistic Dom and-“John! Breathe!” The command came, and this time, John’s brain followed the order without hesitation, latching on like a starving cat. As if following Sherlock’s words at a biological level, John’s sinuses cleared up and he was able to gather enough oxygen with each breath to stop his lungs from panicking. “That’s it, good boy, just keep breathing,” his tone was light as he gently rested his hand on the back of John’s head.

“Dnn snnnll meee, plllee!” John tried to shout to the man, but his words were indistinguishable even to himself. So when Sherlock answered his question, John was both shocked and relieved.

“Why on earth would we sell you, John? You are far too interesting, especially after that little display with my idiot brother. No, don’t you worry about him, he’s just mad that I’m winning,” Sherlock said, his voice practically gleeful. Winning at what? “Come, you’ll see, everything will be fine.” Sherlock grabbed his arm and lead him to the front door where Mycroft was waiting, umbrella in hand.

“I commend you on your glacial pace, brother dear,” Mycroft drawled, giving a quick glance at John. “I hope you learn a few things from this experience, John. You’ll come to find I do not care to repeat myself.” Leaving the threat open, Mycroft opened the door and Sherlock ushered John into the open air.

It was cloudy, but John didn’t mind, nor did he mind that his feet were still bare, because he got to feel the soft expertly cut grass below him. He hadn’t realized how much he missed being outside until this moment when all the memories of nights spent looking at the stars and sitting by a fire Mike made came rushing back. The feeling was strange to say the least, John thought, as he was walked to the car. It was so peaceful to be free and make his own choices, where he wanted to sleep, what he wanted to do, but at the same time it was nice to have a warm bed under him and to not have to worry about where he was going to get his next meal. “Watch your head,” Sherlock told him as a hand was placed on the top of his head.

John scooted in as far as he could, letting Sherlock do half the pushing until he was in the center. Maneuvering with his arms behind him was a lot harder than John first thought and was thankful Sherlock and Mycroft didn’t let him flounder too much before they situated him in between. Thankful? This collar is going to your head, Johnny boy. Sherlock’s the one who put this thing on and now you’re thanking him for helping you sit up straight? Once he was fully seated and Sherlock took care of both their seatbelts, an awkward silence took over the back seat as both brothers typed furiously into their mobiles.

John sighed, already tired mentally and physically before the day had barely begun. He knew there was no time to rest though as his mind ran through data and information, trying to sort out what the Holmes’ knew about him, the other Subs, why they might be taking him to IBAD, especially if Sherlock said they weren’t selling him? Would he lie to me just so I wouldn’t put up a fuss and then drop me off where they have plenty of tranquilizer guns so they can collect their check and leave? There were too many scenarios and John’s brain had already lost track of what was most likely to happen. Plus, he had no idea what he would do even if he did know what was waiting for them at the Sub center. In the end, he decided to enjoy the peace the drive offered and close his eyes, letting his head fall to the side to rest on something that was warm and smelled faintly of cinnamon and coconuts.           

Chapter Text

Chapter 9 – Agitated

John woke up to someone shaking his shoulder gently. At first, he thought it was little Molly waking him up to say she had to go to the bathroom, because she knew she was never allowed to go alone. This hand though, was much larger than Molly’s, even his was smaller than the one now pushing at the side of his head. He hummed quietly, not wanting to get up yet from an abnormally comfortable spot, but the hand was insistent. So he opened his eyes to see two light gray trouser clad legs and the back of a leather seat. It was oddly a comfortable position until he realized his head was lying on Sherlock’s lap, while his feet where splayed out on someone else’s thighs.

“We’re here, John,” a voice that was most certainly not Molly’s told him. Before John could even move, he was being unfolded by the two other men in the car. One picked up both his legs, setting them on the floor gently, while the other pushed up on his shoulders until John was sitting upright and a tad bit dizzy from the rush of blood. Panic was rising in his gut when the feeling of leather on his mouth and around his arms registered, but when Sherlock placed a hand to cup the back of John’s head, the Sub went boneless as if dopamine concentrate was injected immediately into his blood stream. “You need to stay calm while we are in here, John,” Sherlock said, opening the door and stepping out, “I can’t have those idiots contaminating the data I’ve worked so hard to obtain.”

Before John went to follow the Dom, another hand wrapped around his bound bicep and pulled him back. Mycroft held him close, the warmth from his breath tingling John’s ear as he spoke. “Do not embarrass me, boy, or I promise you will not be sitting down for a month after I’m through with you.” The threat was nothing more than a whisper, but John could feel the severity of it in his bones. I really hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means. John was proud that he was able to keep the horrified whimpers from escaping his throat, but was sure his face had turned pale of its own accord.

John followed after Mycroft stepped out of the car, keeping his head hung low but his eyes up to see where they were taking him. It was a giant brick building, unassuming and plain, however; every Sub in the world knew this was not a place to take lightly. Mycroft attached a lead to the cuffs keeping John’s arms bound behind him and tugged. The Sub gave a loud grunt, glaring up at the man whose icy gaze and threatening finger on the button in his pocket forced John to lower his gaze and accept that he was to be walked around like a dog. “Come along,” Mycroft said, straightening his posture a bit as they walked into the building. “Let me do the talking.”

When they first walked in, John noted an odd chemical smell just before he was hit with a wave of bliss so powerful his legs completely gave out. He whined through the mask, trying to catch his breath but breathing through his nose wasn’t doing the trick. “What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked, though John had the feeling he was more intrigued than worried. As Sherlock went to take the muzzle from John’s face, the elder Holmes stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It is the hormones from the ventilation system, Sherlock, you know that,” Mycroft said, readjusting the straps to secure them properly. They pump Dom chemicals into the air here? What the fuck is wrong with these people? “It might be overwhelming at first, John, as your body is still acclimating to Bliss, but in time you will get used to it. Just accept it, let it wash over you, that’s it,” the Dom continued to coach and praise while John’s thighs wobbled as he tried to stand up. It was actually easier than he thought to slowly flush out the chemicals telling his body to create dopamine, especially when the bliss was nowhere near as deep and fulfilling like when Sherlock put him down. No, that’s not what I meant! It’s all the bloody same!

“I’ve never seen a Sub that greatly effected before,” Sherlock said, pulling out his mobile to type something in. “I’ll check with security to see how much they are pumping through entrances of the building.”

“No more than necessary, I assure you,” Mycroft told his brother. “I’m actually quite pleased with our security system. I’ve never seen it in action before, but it appears to have the desired effect on any overly rambunctious Sub trying to break in or escape. Though I see no reason for the latter, still, it is nice to know our facility is well protected even from the most willful of children.” The older man looked down at John, there wasn’t much emotion, but the teen had learned quickly that Mycroft Holmes did not threaten like normal people. He simply glared ominously until you either submitted or…well, John didn’t like to think about the other option too much.  

John actually let out a growl when his mind cleared, shaking his head wildly to throw of any excess Bliss. “Easy,” Sherlock said, already able to tell when the Sub was about to lose his cool. He hated it, being read that easily, though deep down he was thankful because what he was about to do would have earned him a couple of shocks from the collar around his neck.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes!” the lady at the front desk called to them, “I didn’t know you bought a Sub. He’s quite the handsome little thing, though he looks a bit feisty, yes?” she asked, nodding her head towards the restraints.

“He’s actually a stray,” Mycroft told her, pulling on the lead a bit, “one of the rogues from the arson and theft cases.” A stray? You fucking smug bastard, I’ll show you-

“Easy,” Sherlock said again, adding a hand on top of John’s head this time, just in case.

“Oh, is he the one Molly always talks about? She’s such a sweetheart, I love when Mr. Lestrade brings her in when he’s working. Actually, I believe he brought her in today, they should be up in his office.” At this, John looked up, making eye contact with the woman, which was apparently a very big mistake. Electricity ran through his collar, and John was just lucky his knees were already on the floor. Suddenly, tingling warmth started to drown out the pain as he was being pushed under by Sherlock’s Bliss. As soon as it was there though, it was gone with a stern look from Mycroft. No, don’t stop!

“Sherlock!” he chastised, then refocused his attention on the lady at the front desk. “One in the same, though this little one is suffering with RDD, so we took him for his own safety.” Mycroft said, looking down at John who continued to stare at the floor.

“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Holmes,” the lady nodded and smiled, “can I help you with something today, or are you just here for rounds?”

“I’ve have a physical scheduled for John today. Then, if there is time, I’d like to check on a few cases. How’s Sebastian doing, any progress?”

“No Sir, he’s still at level one, but the case Dom’s last report thinks he’s getting closer,” she answered, checking the information on her computer.

Mycroft tugged the lead once more, motioning for John to stand up, but the Sub only turned his head slightly to look in the other direction. John knew it was a token rebellion, but when you’re sitting on the floor with a muzzle, arm restraints, and a lead, it was worth it to torment the Dom. “Up,” he said, his voice stern but not commanding. Five seconds later, John was shaking on the ground again, the pain hitting every muscle in his body before it stopped at his feet.

“Still using the negative reinforcement on him? Oh, poor dear, I’ll make sure to have the exam room ready. “Will you be needing restraints?”

Mycroft seemed to ponder the question for a moment, when John immediately offered a frantic head shake, “Nnmmm,” he tried to yell at the Dom. The last thing he wanted was to be tied to a bed so people could poke at him with sharp needles.

“Will you behave?” Mycroft asked, looking down at him. John nodded, making his eyes as pleading as possible. “No,” he said, still keeping eye contact with the Sub on the ground, “we won’t be needing any restraints today, but thank you.”

“Of course, Sir, Dr. Magnussen is ready for you in exam room three. I’m assuming you will accompany your Sub?”

“No,” Sherlock said quickly, “but I will be staying with him.”

“I have some other work that needs to be taken care of,” he told the lady, then turned his gaze upon Sherlock. “I expect this to go smoothly, Sherlock, so do behave yourself. I will be in my office when you are done, then we can show young John here around the facility.”

“This way, John,” Sherlock ignored his brother’s threats and instructions, “on your feet.” John slowly stood up, almost falling backwards when he did, but managed to follow Sherlock down the hall without incident. He didn’t feel the tingling anymore from the security system, which was definitely valuable information to be tucked away in his memory. “Magnussen is an old fashioned Dom, so don’t think for a second he won’t try to drop you while he does his tests,” Sherlock told him before they reached the door to exam room three. Then, the tall man leaned right up against his ear and whispered something that completely baffled John. “Don’t let him.” Why not? You do it all the fucking time. When John gave a few mumbles, Sherlock shook his head, “you don’t need to know why, John. I am your Dom and I’m telling you to not let him take you under.”

That was the wrong thing to say, and Sherlock knew it before John’s eyes turned to slits and his Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably. John tried to go through the door, dead set on screwing things up as much as possible. To Hell with consequences! I can’t let these arseholes think I’ll do whatever they say, just because they say it. “No, no, no, damn it, John,” Sherlock hissed at him, trying to keep his voice a whisper, but his anger was getting the better of him. He grabbed John’s upper arm, pulled him so they were chest to chest, and then placed both hands on the side of the teen’s head. “Look at me. This is very important, more important than your irrational teenage rebellions, and I will not let you ruin everything we’ve worked for because you don’t want to listen.” John continued to glare at the man, unconvinced by his words.

Sherlock sighed deeply and began walking down the hallway towards the stairs, his long strides hard to keep up with. “You want to see what will happen to you if I can’t fix you, hmm? Want to see what will happen to every other rebellious sub who’s diagnosed with RDD if you don’t start listening to me?” Sherlock spat, anger in his voice. At that moment, John realized he had never seen the Dom angry before, hell, he’d never even raised his voice when a letter opener was centimeters away from impaling his foot.

John followed all the way downstairs, nerves on edge at going deeper into a facility that treated Subs like lab rats. After a few security checkpoints, which Sherlock breezed right through, they ended up standing in a white hallway with a giant glass window on one side. When John looked through the glass, his whole body flooded with emotions he’d never felt so strongly before in his life. Sorrow first, as he saw at least a dozen Subs strapped face down on tables. Some had restraints, while others only laid there, defeated, while Doms and machines inspected their nape. Then, anger with blind rage banging at the door filled him when he saw a small boy close to Molly’s age kneeling at one of the Doctor’s feet. The small boy was naked, save for a small pair of pants and collar, and shivering, but no one seemed to care unless he got in their way while they were walking, which resulted in a nudge to the ribs until he moved out of the way.

John hadn’t even realized he was breathing hard until the edges of his vision began to turn black. “John? John, calm down,” Sherlock’s voice called to him, but all the teen saw was those poor souls in there who he couldn’t help. I should have found them before they got put in here. I could have saved them like Mike and Jim and…Molly. Fuck, who am I kidding, I messed everything up so royally. Without thinking, and overwhelmed as the rage turned to consuming guilt, John smashed his body into the window, shoulder and head taking the brunt. “Stop!” Sherlock commanded, but in the height of his emotions, John was invincible and continued to slam into the glass.

On his second go, John could see all the Doctors and the Subs who were able look up to see the source of the noise. When the little boy on the floor looked up in awe, John was satisfied in showing the young Sub he was not alone. His satisfaction was cut short though when a loud siren went off and suddenly, the chemical smell began filling the air, trying to subdue any ‘rambunctious Subs?’ isn’t that what Mycroft said? It was strange how unaffected John was at that moment though. Whether from his emotional state or perhaps his body was used to that certain bliss now, John had no idea, all he cared about was…was, well, he really didn’t know anymore. He cared about Harry about Molly, about all the Subs really, but there was nothing he could do, nothing he could do when he was stuck with the stupid collar around his neck.

“Get your Sub under control or we will,” a man’s voice shouted from the end of the hall, Taser in hand with four more Doms behind him. John didn’t care though, if they wanted to stop him, they would have to do it themselves. It happened quicker than he thought though when Sherlock came from behind and wrapped his arms around John, lifting him completely into the air.

“You did well, John, now be calm,” Sherlock whispered into his ear, pressing one hand over his chest and the other on his belly, rubbing in large circles as if to calm a terrified animal. “There you go, shhh,” he cooed as John’s movements slowed of their own accord and warmth started to travel from where Sherlock’s breath hit at the back of his neck. What did he mean, ‘you did well?’ Did he…did he plan this? No, why the hell would he do that?

Before he even knew Sherlock was sending wave after wave of Bliss to him, John was boneless in the man’s arms. “Nnngg,” he tried but even his tongue wouldn’t work. How can he put me under so fast? The chemicals from the vents didn’t even work on me.

“Now, are you ready to be a good boy for your exam?” Sherlock chuckled, sending bliss like a gentle tide though the boy, keeping him calm but lucid. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

“Mmhmm,” John nodded to the best of his ability, which was more of a head roll, but Sherlock got the idea and put him back on the floor.

“Do you require are assistance, Mr. Holmes?” the man asked, keeping his Taser locked on John.

“Do I look like I need assistance?” Sherlock snapped. “Come along, John, I’m sure Mycroft has already sent out a hunting party to find us. You don’t have any sweeties on you, do you? That might distract him long enough for me to escape.” Sherlock asked, placing his hand in between John’s shoulder blades as they walked up the stairs. The teen only glared at him in response, but deep down, in a place he didn’t like to think about too much, John was glad he was on this side of the glass with a Dom who joked with him instead of beat him.

Though Sherlock couldn’t be completely trusted, he was a Dom after all, John knew out of all his options this was the best bet. He had no idea what Sherlock was planning or why he had seemingly enjoyed watching John ram himself into the glass, but he did know it was a thousand times better than being strapped down to a table for experiments. Sometimes, John thought, the devil you don’t know is better than the one you do.      

Chapter Text

Chapter 10 – Unintended

John whimpered slightly as they walked up the stairs to the main level. Not only had the anxiety built up for the exam, but now there was no doubt a very angry red haired Dom was waiting for them at the top of the steps. As a Sub, John knew he was always going to be the one to take the blame, even if Sherlock did take him down there on purpose. His fears were justified when he felt an overwhelming sense to go down to his knees and hide behind the taller, bigger man next to him. Mycroft was angry, livid in fact, and John could feel it just as he felt his own heart beat increase pace in his chest. “Keep your mouth shut,” Sherlock’s voice was serious, but the smirk on his face told John just how funny the Dom thought he was. Stupid muzzle.

“Sherlock!” Mycroft growled when they reached the top of the steps. The man was talking with two other Doms, both Doctors, as Sherlock and John approached.

“Mycroft, I thought you had business to attend to in your office,” Sherlock said nonchalantly, “I was just taking John in to see Dr. Magnussen.”

“Is that so? Care to explain why you decided to take John down to the labs, unsupervised and-“

“He was with me!” Sherlock shot back, placing a firm hand on the back of John’s head.

“As I said, unsupervised, and he apparently gave the staff quite a fright.” This time, Mycroft placed his cold attention towards John, sending a shiver down his spine. “You and I will discuss this when we get home, boy. For now though, you will behave yourself for Dr. Magnussen while Sherlock and I have a quick chat.”

“But-“

“Now, Sherlock.” Mycroft cut off his younger brother’s protests with a quick jab at the ground with his umbrella. Oh god, I’m going to be alone in a room with another Dom. Are they gonna untie me? Oh fuckfuckfuck! “Here is the key to the restraints,” the Dom handed one of the Doctors standing next to him a key. The man was taller than both Mycroft and Sherlock, but had much less hair and his face was gaunt. Over all, the Dom had an eerie feeling to him and John was definitely not looking forward to being in a room alone with the man.

“This way,” Dr. Magnussen said, reaching out his hand to grab the lead from Sherlock, who handed it over reluctantly. With a tight squeeze to the back of his neck and brief eye contact, Sherlock turned his back on John to talk to his furious brother.

Once they entered the exam room, the door was closed and John took a deep breath to center himself. “Turn around for me,” the first command came, though John could tell it was a preliminary test. Many Doms had tried this with John before, giving just a little push to see how sensitive the Sub was. He assumed it was because they were just lazy arseholes who wanted to put forth the least amount of effort to get what they wanted. Most of the time he was right. This however, was much, much different.

John weighed his options carefully and quickly, finally deciding to throw the Doctor off and ignore Sherlock’s initial instructions. Slowly, he let his eyes go half-mast as he turned around, offering his back to the Dom in faux-submission. To John’s delight, the man gave a pleased hum and began unlocking the restraints around the boy’s arms and wrists first, then moving to the back of the muzzle. There was a slight tingle to his skin when the leather was removed, taking massive amounts of will power not to scratch or move the newly exposed limbs. Remember, subspace, relaxed, calm, just like when Sherlock takes me down. Don’t make any sudden movements, don’t do anything stupid, John.

“Good boy, now sit up on the bed for me and take your shirt off,” John’s muscles tensed but quickly relaxed. To distract the man, John faked a cough, hoping the Doctor would chalk up any strange movements to dehydration or sore limbs from the bonds. Thankfully, the Dom gently pinched the skin on John’s arm to check for just that, which of course came back negative. “It will pass. Up,” Dr. Magnussen instructed, only putting a bit of force into his words, accompanied by nothing more than a spritz of hormones.

John took his shirt off slowly but efficiently, and then perched himself lightly on the cushioned part of the exam table. “Is this your first exam?”

 “Yes, Sir,” John lowered his head, making an effort to avoid eye contact. I’m just a good little Sub, won’t you grace me with your glorious Dom Bliss! John joked in his mind, barely even paying attention to what the Doctor was doing.

“Right, nothing to be nervous about…as long as you follow every instruction I give you of course.”

“Yes, Sir,” John said again, not trusting his smart mouth with more words.

“Good, now let’s have a look at this new collar. Hmm, that’s strange,” he said, but didn’t elaborate more as he poked and prodded at the back of John’s neck. “Does this hurt?” He asked, tugging lightly at the very back where the collar attached to his skin. What the fuck do you think? John flinched, but only nodded his head in affirmation. “I would suspect so, as it appears your body is attempting to reject the probes.”

“Sir?” John asked, confused by the statement. It didn’t feel any different from when Mycroft made him put it around his neck.

“Which might explain why you are trying to manipulate me,” Dr. Magnussen said. John opened his mouth to deny the accusations but what came out was a blood curdling scream. His mind finally caught up to his pain receptors when he realized the Dom had ripped out the collar and was now inspecting it curiously. “I told them it wouldn’t work. Reading Sub’s hormone levels? Peh!” The man sounded rather disgusted by the whole thing, though not for the reasons John would have hoped. “I must say, Mycroft will be very displeased when he learns his little charity case ripped off his own collar.”

“You son of a bitch,” John growled, holding the back of his neck. When he pulled his hand back around it was completely covered in blood. Whether from seeing the blood or losing the it, John didn’t know, but soon he started to feel light headed.

“Now, now,” the Doctor said, grabbing some gauze out of a draw, rather slowly for having a boy bleeding from his neck on the table. “It should stop in a moment.” He pressed the material hard against John’s neck and then that’s when the Sub decided he’d had enough. “Now, let’s check your vitals, shall-“

John turned around, quickly throwing himself off the table, and effectively kicking a tray into the Dom’s stomach. He would be rather impressed with himself if he hadn’t fallen down to the floor afterwards. His head was pounding and the sight before him was getting blurry. This is most definitely not good. Dr. Magnussen was standing before him, walking closer when suddenly the door burst open, followed by Mycroft storming into the room.

John blamed it on the loss of blood when his eyes told him he was seeing Mycroft Holmes shove the other Dom up against a wall. He shook his head a few times, blinking rapidly as his Dom pointed a threatening finger at Magnussen’s chest while he sneered threats that would most likely make any man wet his pants. As he watched the unbelievable scene go on before him, John didn’t even realized Sherlock was kneeling down next to him, examining his neck carefully. “John? Are you alright? I told you he couldn’t be trusted, Mycroft!” Sherlock shouted, scooping his arms under John’s back and knees, lifting him onto the table.

            “You position here is terminated, Dr. Magnussen, and I will see you are brought up on charges. Security will escort you out,” Mycroft growled, walking the Doctor outside the room.

“It’s not right!” Magnussen shouted. “That collar is disgraceful, Holmes, and a waste of time. That boy should be put down, just like the rest of those abominations! Get your hands off me!” Was the last thing John heard before the man was silenced.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” Sherlock kept repeating, though John thought it might have been more to himself then to the teen. “The bleeding’s not stopping. We need to get him down to medical, and fast.”

“Sherlock-“ John tried, though his head was getting lighter.

“John, I need you to listen to me, okay? Can you do that,” Sherlock commanded, placing his hands on either side of John’s cheeks.

“My neck….it’s numb,” the Sub said, closing his eyes until Sherlock shouted for him to keep them open. The commands washed over him, taking away most of the pain, but soon it wasn’t enough and a sharp ache started to build in the base of his skull.

“I know, I know, but I need you to do something for me, okay? It’s very important. I want you to slow down your breathing, but make sure you keep inhaling and exhaling. Don’t stop, okay, just don’t stop breathing. Damn it, you morons, can’t you move any faster?” John heard Sherlock yell at someone, but by this time, he wasn’t even sure what was real. His head hurt so much but he had to keep breathing, he had to keep his eyes open and keep breathing, just like his Dom said.

It was hard though, especially when he was flipped over onto his stomach while people worked on the back of his neck. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” a woman’s voice came from behind him, “what were these barbs attached to?”

“Just stop the bleeding!” Mycroft yelled, yes actually yelled, which John thought was a bit funny. He never yelled at him, but he’d yelled at two Doms in the last ten minutes. Huh, who would’ve thought?

“Reattach the collar. It might stabilize him until you idiots figure out how to do your jobs!”

“John?” Mycroft’s voice called to him. Then suddenly, his head was being lifted up and a pillow shoved under his neck. The elder Holmes was crouched at the head of the bed, looking directly into John’s eyes. If he didn’t know any better, Mycroft looked terrified. “What they are about to do is going to hurt, a lot. Sherlock and I are going to try and give you enough Bliss that you won’t feel it, but I need you to let us, okay? Don’t fight it,” Mycroft begged, putting a hand on the top of John’s head.

“’Kay,” was all John could get out, pressing his face back into the pillow. Two hands were placed on his lower back right before he felt his muscles go limp with relaxation. Don’t fight it John, don’t fight it. Tingles spread through his skin, dulling the constant ache in his skull, and even bringing a smile to his face.

“Three, two, one,” someone said. Then, something akin to a burning knife stabbed into his skull and John blacked out.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 – Isolated System

The first thing John noticed was a loud beeping. His head hurt, but not as much as the back of his neck and all the way down his spine. Taking inventory as his consciousness slowly started to rise, John was thankful he could still feel his toes and fingers. He remembered how numb his neck had felt lying against the wall in the exam room, and naturally his worst fear was that he was paralyzed by having the collar ripped out. Everything seemed okay though, and even his head ache was dying down a bit.

“I told you it was dangerous,” a voice, Sherlock’s John decided, was angry, “he flat lined for thirty seconds! John’s death would have been on your hands and everything I’ve worked for would have been ruined.”

John stayed quiet, listening to the beeping and arguing going on around him. The voices seemed far away, but he kept his eyes closed and breathing even, just in case.

“You’ve worked for?” Mycroft accused, “Do you think I have nothing invested in this, brother mine? Are you that ignorant? Or are you just blinded by your feelings for the boy?” Feelings? Yeah right? They have to know I’m listening. They’re just putting me on, now.

“Don’t you dare, ‘brother mine,’” Sherlock said, anger and disdain lacing his tone, “you have the exact same feelings. I saw how you almost ripped Magnussen’s head off back there.”

Mycroft sighed. John would bet everything he had, which isn’t really much but you get the fucking point, that the older Dom had that scowl on his face, making him look like he smelled something disgusting. “You and I both know how much is invested into this project. All of it lies on his head now, and if something happens to him-“

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” A woman’s voice asked, starting John enough that he opened his eyes on instinct. Shite! They didn’t know I was listening, but now…

“John?” Mycroft said, his tone already accusing. Yep, they definitely know now. The two Doms walked over from the corner of the room until Mycroft stood on one side of the bed and Sherlock on the other.

“How are you feeling?” Sherlock asked, shouldering his way in past the nurse. She glared at him for a moment, but knowing who the Holmes’ were, she scurried away.

“What happened?” John asked, as Sherlock ran his hand through the boy’s hair gently. Feelings? Really? As the hand trailed down over his ear, John shivered slightly until the hand came to rest upon a collar. When he tried to look down, however, searing pain shot through his neck, sending shockwaves all the way down to his toes. “Hnnng,” John whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shhh,” Sherlock cooed, his voice barely above a whisper. John could feel as the hand on his cheek sent pulses of chemicals, which made his mind produce some much needed Bliss. “Don’t move around too much yet, John. Your neck is still healing, but you’re going to be fine. I promise.”

“That bastard,” John grumbled, touching the leather at the front of his neck.

“John,” Mycroft chastised, but the normal venom wasn’t there. The Dom sighed, gripping his umbrella in one hand and the railing of the bed in the other, his knuckles turning white. “I need to apologize for what happened back there.”

“You mean how I almost bled out because a Doctor at your facility ripped a collar out of my spine?” John asked, his voice as spiteful as his tired body would allow. This actually earned a snort from Sherlock, though the other brother didn’t seem to think his little outburst was amusing.

“I’m trying to apologize you…frustrating child,” Mycroft actually stuttered. John knew he’d really struck a nerve, which oddly enough didn’t give him the satisfaction he was hoping for. Perhaps it was the fact that Mycroft actually seemed to show a normal range of emotion, or that the collar had messed up his rational mind, but John wanted to forgive the man. Don’t you dare, John Watson!

“It’s okay.” Both Doms looked up, their eyes matching in confusion and oddly enough, suspicion. “I’m guessing by the way you almost punched Magnussen that you didn’t know he was a fuc-“ John paused, realizing it wasn’t best to push his luck right now, “umm, a uhh, lunatic.”

Mycroft studied him for a moment, then spoke, his voice kind. “No, I didn’t, but one of us should have been in there with you. We are your Doms now, and it was irresponsible of me and it won’t happen again.”

“So, umm, what happened to me?” John finally asked, already feeling tired. He blinked his eyes a few times and chewed on his tongue and lip a bit to keep his attention focused on what was happening.

“This collar is…special, one of a kind really. Essentially, it connects to your spinal column in order to gather data through your brainwaves, hormone spikes, etcetera.”

“Yeah,” John said, rolling his eyes in a startling Sherlock like way, “I know that, but why? Dr. Magnussen said it was an, umm, abomination, or something like that. Why? I mean, it sucks, but I would have thought Doms would be all gung-ho for something like this.”

Mycroft and Sherlock looked at each other for a long moment, having a silent conversation. “I almost died because of this bloody thing and you still want tell me what’s going on?”

“That’s enough, John,” Mycroft said, shaking his head at Sherlock. “I am your Dom and you are going to have to trust me.”

“Yeah?” John spat, trying to sit up, but winced at the pain. “Look at what good that did me? I died for thirty seconds because I trusted you! No, no,” John closed his eyes, swallowing before he spoke again, “I should have known better. You lot just can’t help yourselves, can you?” It was true, John knew, that every time he let go even a little bit, there would always be someone to grab it and yank it out from under him.

“John,” Sherlock spoke up this time, “I know you’re upset, and you should be but-“

“But what? ‘But you need to trust us. If not Mycroft than trust me,’” John mocked, making his town as deep as it would go, though it was nowhere near Sherlock’s baritone. “Bullocks! You can do whatever you want to me, but don’t act like you actually care about what happens to me. I know this collar around my neck is probably worth more quid than my life, so don’t even bother.” John’s anger flared. Not only did he almost die because of these Doms, but the two men didn’t even trust him enough to tell him what he almost died for!

“I see,” Mycroft stood up taller and motioned towards the door. Uh oh, this can’t be good. “I understand. The Doctor’s say we can take you home tonight. However, I thought you might do with some company while you wait.” John quirked an eyebrow at the statement, looking towards the door, but not willing to move any other muscles for fear of tugging on his collar.

“John!” A small voice shouted when the glass doors to the room opened. The teen’s face lite up when he saw Molly run into the room. It wasn’t necessarily the fact that she was so happy to see him that made John beam, but that she had on a brand new shirt, her hair and face were clean, and their seemed to be no bruises on her skin. The young girl was being well looked after by whoever Mycroft had given her to, which John would be forever grateful to the man for that kindness.

“Molly!” John said, his voice light as the little girl tried to jump up on the bed. She was halted, however, by Sherlock, who picked her up under the arms and lifted her to sit on his hip. He placed one arm under her and one behind for support as the little girl wrapped a skinny arm around his neck.

“Sher,” Molly giggled when the tall Dom picked her up. She cupped her hand next to Sherlock ear and leaned in, telling the man a secret. He dutifully nodded his head, a serious expression on his face. John couldn’t help but grin. It was amazing to see Sherlock completely change gears for the sake of the little Sub.

“Oh, I see,” Sherlock said, nodding his head slowly, “Greg told you that?” he asked, already disapproving of what Molly had said. She gave a quick nod in response. “Well let’s make a deduction and see for ourselves then, yes.” Sherlock looked towards John, examining him clinically. “What do you think, Molly? Does John look hurt to you?”

“Hmm,” the little girl pondered, staring at John just as Sherlock had done, though her gaze was much less scary. “He looks sad,” she finally said, looking back at Sherlock. You have no idea, Molly.

“That’s because John’s neck was hurt in an accident, sweetheart. That’s why you need to be gentle and not yell, remember?” Greg answered, stepping into the room. John eyed the gray haired man suspiciously for a moment. They hadn’t been properly introduced, as the first time they met John had soap in his mouth. Molly looked healthier than John had ever seen her though so…well, the Dom might be sort of okay, for now.

“But he’ll be better soon, right?” the little girl asked, keeping her eyes on Sherlock. Damn, how does that guy have such a sweet little girl wrapped around his fingers?

“Of course he will. Do you doubt my caretaking skills, Molly?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head back in faux anger.

“No!” She protested seriously, making John laugh and wince at the same time. Molly looked down at him then back to Sherlock, cupping her hand again to tell the man a secret.

“Mmhm, mmhm, yes,” Sherlock continued nodding his head, “well I don’t see why not. You must be gently though, just like when you patched up Leopold, yes?” Molly nodded seriously again.

John’s smile widened with Sherlock placed the little Sub onto the bed. She rearranged herself to rest her head on the older boy’s chest with her toes hanging over the edge and her large eyes staring up at John. “Hello,” John laughed.

“Hi,” she said shyly, “does it hurt?”

“A little bit, but you being here helps,” John said, sparing a glance up at Mycroft. The teen nodded once in thanks, knowing Mycroft was the only one who had the power to set this meeting up. The Dom nodded back politely, then walked out of the room, motioning for Greg to follow.

“You be good, Molls. I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” Greg said, smiling at John, and then following Mycroft outside the room.

“Are you okay?” John asked, ignoring Sherlock’s presence completely. “Did they hurt you? Did they touch you?”

“I’m okay, John,” Molly said, sounding years older than her small body should’ve allowed. “I like Greg, he’s nice to me. But I miss you and J-“

“I know,” John cut in quickly. Although he was sure Sherlock already knew everything there was to know about John’s past, he didn’t want Molly think it was okay to talk about it in front of Doms. If something ever happened to him, God forbid, Molly would be on her own and who knows what kind of influences she’d have then. “I do too, love, I do too.” John reached his arm up slowly, rubbing his hand through her hair like he used to do when she had nightmare in the Pipes. He never told anyone, but it helped him fall asleep just as much as it did her.

After two minutes, Molly was snoring slightly and her breath had evened out enough that John knew she was asleep. “Thank you,” John said, keeping his eyes on Molly though his words were directed towards Sherlock. “She hasn’t experienced much kindness in her life, especially not from Doms. So…thanks,” he looked up to see Sherlock staring at him. It was a strange look, as if for the first time Sherlock didn’t know what to say.

“She’s, umm, a good girl and…Greg is taking care of her, just like Mycroft promised. As long as you stay with us, she’ll be safe.” Sherlock said, practically on auto pilot.

“Yeah, I know.” They sat there for a while, listening to the beeping from the monitors and the slight murmur from Greg and Mycroft talking outside. John’s eyes were growing heavy, as each blink grew longer and longer. “Sherlock?”

“Hmm?”

“Is this collar going to kill me?” Before Sherlock could answer, John drifted off to sleep.      

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 – Butterflies and Hurricanes

John was still half asleep when they woke him to take a bit of his blood. The nurse seemed nice enough, but it was obvious she was a Dom from all the ‘that’s it’ and ‘good boys’ she cooed to him during the process. At least she’s not touching my neck, I guess. He sighed when she finished, giving him a pat on the head before she left him in the room with a distracted Sherlock.

The young Dom was typing continuously into his mobile while simultaneously balancing a sleeping six year old on his lap. It was quite a sight to see Sherlock’s elbows balanced on Molly’s back, while the little Sub slept peacefully. John smiled slightly, glad to have seen Molly, and even more glad that she was healthier than he had ever seen.

The silence in the room was broken when Greg and Mycroft came into the room. “Well would you look at that,” Greg chuckled, looking over at the unlikely pair. “Found someone who can actually stand to be around you, eh Sherlock?” The Dom laughed, walking over to kneel in front of the little girl.

“Are you quite done, Inspector? For our brain cells sake, I would hope so,” Sherlock quipped back without even looking up from his phone. He quickly removed his elbows and patted Molly’s head, stirring her gently.

“Molly? Molly, sweetheart, it’s time to wake up,” Greg whispered softly, making John’s heart ache a little bit. He used to be the one who prized her from her pillow every morning, but now…

“Greg,” was her first word as her eyes slowly opened. Not John.

"Time to go, kiddo. We’ll pick up some food on the way,” Greg promised. “Alright, up you go,” he reached out and plucked the girl from Sherlock’s lap as if she weighed nothing. Instinctually, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, though his hand on her back and under her bum would have kept her from falling. Her eyes closed again, drifting back into a sleep only children could manage.

“I’ll be over tomorrow morning, Mycroft,” Greg turned to tell the man, “I only have a few more questions.”

“That will be fine Detective Inspector,” Mycroft replied, nodding his head once and then fixing his stare towards John.

“John,” Greg turned around to face him as well, “feel better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

John only stared, not knowing what to say to the man who he was supposed to hate. The way Greg held Molly though, so tenderly and even lovingly, it was impossible to hate him.

Just as Greg turned to go, John spoke up, his voice cracking from the screaming he had done when they put the collar back on. “Umm, Greg,” he called, causing the Dom to turn back around, though he still didn’t wake the sleeping girl in his arms. “Thanks for bringing Molly by. I really…erm, I really appreciate it.”

Sherlock looked up from his phone for the first time since John had woken up and Mycroft’s mouth dropped before he immediately closed it again. “You’re welcome,” Greg said, offering another genuine smile before turning and leaving the room.

“Interesting,” Sherlock muttered to himself, earning a scowl from John. I swear, if he says that one more time!

“Indeed,” Mycroft agreed quietly, staring at John with icy blue eyes. “John, the doctors said you are ready to be discharged. Here are some clothes I had Devon bring for you as the others were, well, unwearable.”

“You mean they were drenched in a liter of my blood,” John said, his voice sarcastic as ever.  

“Indeed,” Mycroft said again, though this time his tone was rather annoyed. “Now, we are leaving in ten minutes whether you are naked or clothed, so I suggest you hurry.” The older Dom left the room with a dramatic flair that rivaled that of his younger brother’s.

John stood up slowly, pulling off a few of the sticky plasters on his chest and ribs. Standing up slowly, he realized the back of his gown was completely open, giving Sherlock ample view of his…well, ample arse. John quickly closed his, jumping and turning the other way to glare at Sherlock, who was watching intently. “Do you mind,” John asked as his face flushed bright red all the way down to his chest.

“Not at all,” Sherlock answered, though he remained seated, staring at John with those strange silver eyes.

John sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes at the smirk Sherlock gave him. “I meant, do you mind giving me some privacy?”

“Don’t you remember what happened when I left you in a room without me the last two time?” Sherlock asked, standing up and taking a step towards John. “I believe the first time you punched a hole in the wall, yes?” He continued walking around the bed towards John, who, for all his bravery, took two steps back. “And the second time, you flat lined for thirty second after a maniac tried to rip your spine out, John.” Sherlock was standing only a foot away now, his warm breath causing the slight fringe of the Sub’s hair to flutter. “So no, John, I am not going to leave the room. What I will do, though, is help you get dressed before you injure yourself even further.”

“I don’t…please, don’t,” John stuttered out, looking up to meat Sherlock’s eyes. Strangely enough, his pupils weren’t dilated, but more clinical than anything.

“John,” he reached around to untie the knot holding the gown together, “you can either let me help you or I can hold you down on the bed and dress you that way.” As soon as Sherlock released the knot, he let go of the string and the gown fell to the floor, pooling around John’s sweaty feet. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. “Which would you prefer, John?” Sherlock asked, his lips right next to the Sub’s ear, causing the receptor on the back of his neck to go haywire.

“Just get it over with, please,” John begged, closing his eyes tightly, afraid to see what Sherlock was doing.

Sherlock put a hand on both his wrists and lifted them slowly into the air, letting them stop just above his head. “Don’t move,” Sherlock instructed, his voice like honey to John’s ears and…oh fuck, don’t get hard, don’t get hard you bastard! The small touches as Sherlock gently pulled a shirt over John’s head made the Sub shiver and short pulses of blood go straight to his cock. Thankfully, Sherlock either didn’t notice or had the grace not to mention it and just continued to pick John’s feet up one by one, pulling pants and then trousers over his semi-hard length. “Much better,” he said, as if completing a beautiful painting.

“T-Thank you,” John said without meaning to. God, what is wrong with you John?

“You’re just full of ‘thank yous’ today, aren’t you John?” Sherlock laughed, straightening his own shirt. The Dom reached over, placing his hand just under John’s collar and applying a little pressure to get the boy to walk out of the room. “How is the pain?”

“What do you think?” John snapped, but knew better than to jerk his head away from Sherlock’s hand. The sight already hurt, and, he would never admit it, but was grateful that Sherlock helped him get dressed.

“I think the sight is extremely painful, though that was not the purpose of my questioning,” Sherlock said as they walked into the hallway.

“There you are,” Mycroft said in a put upon tone, “I thought you might prefer going home naked.”

“Well when your neck is butchered it’s-“ John started but was cut off by a very angry glare from Mycroft.

“You outbursts are going tiresome,” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would like to remind you that the doctor gave the go ahead to use the shocking mechanism in your collar, two hours ago.”

John gulped audibly. He wouldn’t shock me after I just had surgery, would he?

“Come,” Mycroft said, letting his threat hand in the air. They walked out of the building quickly, John finding it much easier to walk without arm restraints. “In you go,” he opened the back door, placing a hand in the center of John’s spine. Sherlock walked around to the other side before he got in to meet John on the other side. The younger Dom pulled him in, placing an arm around his shoulder as to not jostle the Sub around too much.

With a single word from Mycroft, the driver pulled away towards the Holmes estate. They sat in silence for a long time, but the heat emanating from both Doms on either side was driving John mad. He was burning up being pressed against Sherlock’s side. Sweat started forming on his brow when they finally pulled up to the house.

Sherlock moved his long legs out of the car, standing up, then crouching back down to offer his hand to John. With a hint of stubbornness still left, and his neck aching something horrible, John ignored the hand to step out on his own. The force of his feet hitting the ground even sent shock waves of pain through his sore body.

“There we go,” Sherlock said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

They walked up to the front door, Sherlock placing his hand just under John’s collar again, the weight almost familiar now. “Something is wrong,” Sherlock said suddenly.

“What?” John asked dumbly as the Dom opened the door without unlocking it.

“What, what’s wrong?” Mycroft finally made his way to the front door.

“You’ve been robbed,” John choked out, holding back a laugh. They walked in to see the entire front room ransacked. Sherlock bent down, pulling a knife out of a note on the floor.

“Give John back,” Sherlock read, holding the note so the Sub could see the scribbling on the crumbled up parchment.

“Huh,” was all John could say at the new development.    

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 – Undisclosed Desires

John couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before him. The living room was in ruins, with papers everywhere, furniture turned over, and a big ‘JM’ spray painted onto the wall that lead into the kitchen. Mycroft held his phone tight to his ear with one hand while the other was on his hip. He paced back and forth looking inside drawers to make sure important documents were still in their hiding places.

“I’m calling Lestrade,” Mycroft told his brother, who was still looking around the house with a curious expression.

“Why? It’s obvious who it was and what they want,” Sherlock answered, placing a hand on John’s shoulder. The Sub knew what it meant, even if it was only a subconscious reaction. They’re not letting me go. Ever. “You’re right, John,” Sherlock whispered to him, sending a wave of fear up the boy’s spine at his omnipotent words.  

“We still need to report it, especially if these lunatics are still gallivanting around trashing private property,” Mycroft said, pulling the phone away from his ear to dial another number.

“I thought he said he’s coming tomorrow,” John added when he saw a chance to give Jim and Harry more time. “It’s almost dark, so why not wait until he comes in the morning?”

“See, all settled,” Sherlock said, already distracted. “I’ll feed you and then it will be time for bed. Who are you going to sleep with, John?” Sherlock’s question was blunt, and John knew he had no other choice but to choose a bed to sleep in. Maybe if I choose Mycroft, he’ll make me sleep on the floor so I won’t have to sleep next to him. John’s musing was cut off and his decision was made for him when Mycroft chimed in.

“He’s sleeping with you brother dear,” he said, his voice dripping with faux generosity. “In case he is in another biting mood, I do not wish to wake up with any of my appendages missing. You are responsible for feeding him, bathing him, and putting him to bed. I, however, will be responsible for punishment, seeing as you lack the ability to discipline young John here.”

“I’m not a damn dog!” John shouted. He had had enough of being talked about like he wasn’t even there. His neck hurt, he was starving, he was tired, and now he had to worry about Jim and Harry, who could get caught when they tried to save him.

Suddenly, pain shot through his neck and all the way down to his toes. It felt like glass shards were shooting from his collar and into his neck as he fell to the floor. John was panting heavily while sweat and saliva dipped to the floor.

“Damn it, Mycroft!” Sherlock shouted above him. Shockwaves of pain still coursed through his body when two large hands were placed on the side of his ribs. Small amounts of bliss seeped from his neck, dulling the pain like a fast acting balm. “He’s still injured and you’re hurti-“

“What’s that brother dear?” Mycroft asked, putting the phone in his front suit pocket and taking a step closer to John.

“I mean, we need to get a base reading again before you start shocking him. Who knows what kind of affect the trauma had on his receptor.” Sherlock said, moving his hands up to cup under John’s arms. The Sub was lifted up from his kneeling position to quickly, causing John to sway slightly until Sherlock grabbed ahold of him.

“Be that as it may,” Mycroft said, giving John a steely glare, “I will not tolerate teenage petulance, nor will I stop punishment because you say so, Sherlock.” A look passed between the two brothers and John thought that the carpet in the space between them would surly catch fire. “Well, off you go,” he waved his hand to shoo John and Sherlock, “feed him and then off to bed for the both of you.” With that, Mycroft turned and walked into his study and closed the door.  

“Well then, you heard the Queen, John, off to the kitchen,” Sherlock smirked like a mischievous child. John grinned back, chuckling a few times until the reverberation hurt his neck.

It was like something out of a movie, John thought when he saw someone had already set the table for them. There was only one plate of food though, and he knew what was coming next. Just get it over with. Give him what he wants, then I can go to bed. Too weak and tired to put up any more of a fight, John walked over the chair and slumped down to his knees.

Though he would never admit it, sitting on the floor and resting his head on Sherlock’s thigh wasn’t that bad. He liked that the Dom always kept a grounding hand on his head and how his thigh, although bony, was still a warm head rest when John waited in between bites. The food though, was the absolute best part. Before he had got down on his knees, John saw pork and pineapple kabobs with a variety of veg on a fine china plate. It had looked delicious and it tasted even better.  

The little praises Sherlock cooed when John ate a bite of pork only intensified the blissful experience. I’m in subspace. Holy fuck, I’m in subspace from just eating at his feet. John made an ‘mmm’ sound, though he didn’t know if it was because of the bite of pineapple or he couldn’t find the words to tell Sherlock to bring him up.

“Why….why you do that?” John asked dumbly, his mind floating away as the ground disappeared below him.

“It’s alright, John. It’s alright, just stay down a little bit longer for me,” his Dom told him. Sherlock stroked over his ears, cheeks, and hair, until the only thing keeping John up was his head on the man’s thigh.

“Wanna…wanna…” He tried, but in the end, he let the stream carry him to where ever Sherlock wanted him to go, which apparently, was a bed.

“That’s it, come on up,” Sherlock said to him as he gently tugged on the boy’s hair.

When John’s eyes finally cleared, he realized he was in a new pair of pajamas and lying down in Sherlock’s bed. He looked over to the dresser where he grabbed the letter opener, but now it was void of any threatening objects. “What…how?”

“Seeing as how upsetting it was for you to be dressed in the hospital, I took the liberty of changing your clothes while you were down,” Sherlock said as he walked to the other side of the bed. He too was dressed in sleep trousers and a grey shirt, except his was much longer than Johns.

“So that makes it okay?” John asked, sitting up, but regretting it the minute he felt dizziness wash over him.

“You seemed to enjoy it,” Sherlock answered as got into the bed. He pulled the covers up around him and snuggled down deep.

“I wasn’t me, Sherlock. You can’t just put me under when I don’t want to do something, especially when you expect me to thank you for it afterwards.” John scooted over as much as possible, feeling the mattress dip as he got to the edge.

“So…you didn’t like it?” Sherlock asked. At first, John thought it was for his data, but there was something in the Dom’s voice that told him the question was different.

“Of course I liked it,” John explained, “but I don’t even remember you changing my clothes. The last thing I remember was kneeling down and eating a few bites of pork. The rest is just a blur.”

“Oh,” Sherlock continued to look up at the ceiling as if he could find the words he needed. “Then, sorry,” he said, his tone a bit sad. Then, he rolled over so his back was facing John.

Did he just apologize? Well, well, John, not too bad for a little Sub. Now though, John didn’t know what to say in response. He stared up at the ceiling too, hoping he would find the words like Sherlock had done. “Erm…it’s okay.”

Sherlock didn’t respond though, but John knew he wasn’t asleep by his breathing patterns. Did I hurt his feelings? He had no idea what was wrong with the normally cuddle and touch obsessed Dom. “Well, goodnight,” John said, scooting over a tiny bit towards Sherlock so he didn’t fall of the bed.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When John woke up, his neck didn’t hurt at all and all his muscles felt warm and ready for the day. There was a strange feeling against his neck though, a constant warm then cold mist just on the side. It was breathes John realized as he opened his eyes. Sherlock had completely enveloped him with his arms and legs intertwining around John’s body. The Dom was practically lying on John’s chest and his face was right next to his. Thankfully, or not so thankfully, Sherlock was still asleep and was way too heavy to push away.

At first, John tried to squirm away, but his legs and torso were completely trapped in thick warm vines. To make matters worse, John was half hard and it was not going away. Sherlock’s continuous bliss just felt so amazing and not to mention a there was a hard warm body pressed against him. Yep, I’m screwed.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the bedroom door. Sherlock startled awake, pulling his head back to look at John and take in his surroundings. All the teenager could do was stare wide eyed back at him until finally, Sherlock scrambled off, taking his bliss with him. The constant ache returned, as did his body’s earlier pains.

“Mr. Holmes,” Devon said through the door, “Gregory Lestrade is here to see John.”

“We’ll be right there,” Sherlock called, his voice shaking with nerves. “Go use the bathroom and get ready, John.” It wasn’t an order, but John’s untimely erection and embarrassment had him scurrying off to the bathroom. “The collar’s water proof. You need a shower,” Sherlock shouted after him.  

As soon as he shut the door, John turned on the tap and stepped in, taking himself in hand as he did. He stroked himself quickly as he felt the warmth of the shower on his side. Images and sounds of Sherlock filled his mind with every pull and twist of his wrist. That voice. That fucking voice. Rubbing his thumb over the head and feeling the figment of his Dom’s chest on his back with arms around his stomach, John shot off like a rocket set for the moon. Sherlock’s name whispered from his lips as spurt after spurt of his come painted the wall.

John panted as both relief and dread set on his shoulders. He had just come harder than he’d ever remembered while thinking about a Dom who put a muzzle on him. “I fucking said his name,” John whispered to himself, cupping his hand to collect water and wash off the wall. John closed his eyes, trying desperately to get those lust filled thoughts out of his mind. He wanted Sherlock, he wanted him so badly, but the only problem was that he was supposed to hate his guts.  

Chapter Text

Chapter 14 – Map of the Problematique

John stepped out of the shower, his stomach turning queasy with shame and embarrassment. He had just jerked off to the thought of his Dom having…Damn it John, just quit thinking about him. His ivory skin, his…his deep voice…SHUT UP! John shook his head, hoping the thoughts would fling out of his ears and onto the tile floor, where he would then proceed to stomp on them. He dried off and only then realized he didn’t bring any clothes in with him, which meant he was going to have to go back into the room wet, in a towel…with Sherlock waiting for him.

He took a deep breath, made sure the towel covered up his bits, and then walked out into the room with an air of nonchalance. Confidence, John, confidence. “What took you so long?” The deep voice was right behind him, making John squeak and turn around quickly. John gripped his towel tighter when he saw his clothes in Sherlock’s hand.

“I uhh-” John stuttered, taking a step back.

“And why are you so red? I guess you do need someone to shower with you if you insist on burning yourself alive in there.” Sherlock said, a hint of a grin on his face. Does he know? Holy crap, he knows! “I picked out clothes for you, here,” he held out a blue striped shirt and khaki trousers.

With one hand clinging to his towel like his life depended on it, John grabbed the fresh clothes and then stared at Sherlock expectantly. It took a moment of them both looking into each other’s eyes, they’re like silver moons. Damn it, John! Until Sherlock opened his wide in understanding. “Oh, yes, of course,” he said and turned around like he did the first day John took a bath.

Satisfied with the little bit of privacy, John dropped the towel and threw on the other clothes quickly. “Umm, ‘kay,” his voice sounded small, even for him.

“Right,” Sherlock turned around and gave an appraising look. He smiled before placing a hand in the middle of John’s back and leading him out of the room. When they made it to the living room, which had been miraculously put back together, John saw Greg and Mycroft standing just outside of the study.

“Ah, John, so good of you to join us,” Mycroft called, the sarcasm in his voice was barely noticeable, but still pissed John off. “Please, have a seat,” he motioned to the couch he’d sat on the first time Mycroft Dommed him. This time though, his words were a request, not an order. Nevertheless, John walked to the couch with the comforting hand still on his back. It was strange, John thought as he stood in front of the couch, how he hardly felt Sherlock’s hand, but it brought so much warmth through his entire body.

John sat down and surprisingly, Sherlock sat down next to him, while the other Doms sat on the couch opposite them. “How is your neck feeling, John?” Greg asked first, a look of concern on his face.

“’s alright,” he absentmindedly rubbed his upper back, just under the collar. Before he knew it, Sherlock had grabbed his arm and set it back down onto the couch, halting his nervous movement. John didn’t know what happened or why the hell he let it happen, but it was too late to do anything about it now…unless he wanted three Doms to be pissed at him that is.    

“That’s good,” Greg smiled, but John thought it was too condescending for his liking. “Do you know why I’m here?”

John didn’t say anything. He knew that less was more and if he talked, he might end up saying something he regretted. For some reason though, his mouth opened and words started to come out. “Because of the Subs who stole from the estates,” he said quickly. John’s eye grew wide at his sudden outburst, and then he looked at Sherlock, narrowing his eyes. The man couldn’t have Dommed him without John at least being aware of it…could he?

“That’s exactly right,” Greg told him, “they’ve been breaking into a lot of houses and stealing very valuable property. Now, if I’m not mistaken, you are the leader of that gang, yes?”

“Do I look like I’m the leader of anything,” John said of his own volition. He pointed to the collar around his neck and the well-fitting clothes of a pet, not a homeless Sub.

“No, not anymore, but you were before the Holmes’ saved you, correct?”

“Saved me?!” John asked without thinking, earning a deadly glare from Mycroft and a tightening hand on his lower neck.

“My apologies, poor choice of words,” Greg said and again, for some reason, John thought he was being genuine. “You used to be a part of the gang, their leader even.” This time it wasn’t a question, which made John realize Molly must have told him everything already.

“Yes, I was,” John finally answered, knowing that there was no use in fighting.

“Do you know where they might go? Intel led us to the Pipes, but it seems the area has been abandoned.” Greg’s eyes twitched to Sherlock’s and then back to John, but the quick movement didn’t go unnoticed by the Sub.

So Sherlock did tell them about the Pipes, but at least Harry had the sense to get out of that place. I bet they went to the roofs, though, Jim loves it up there. Can’t tell them and there’s no way Sherlock can know about the new place.

“John?” Greg asked, bringing John out of his thoughts.

“Oh, uhh, no, I really don’t know where else they’d go. The pipes are the only place I know about,” John lied, proud of himself for keeping cool and not stuttering over his words. The Doms however, didn’t look convinced, which made the teenager start to squirm in his seat.

“John, you will tell Lestrade where your little band of Subs is, right now,” Mycroft commanded, sending a giant wave of calm over him. John was used to the Dom’s unique bliss by now and was able to keep his mouth shut until Mycroft pulled out the remote to John’s collar.

“That’s not necessary,” Greg told the Dom, who stood up and loomed over John. Sherlock removed his hand from John’s back, which terrified the teenager even more now that he was alone. I guess you don’t want to touch something that’s about to be electrocuted. “Mycroft,” Greg tried again.

“Have something to say, John?” Mycroft asked, holding the remote up to click, but much to John’s confusion, the collar never went off. “I see, well then, I believe we will go with your plan Detective Inspector.”

John kept his eyes glued to the remote, even as Mycroft went back to the sofa and sat down. Why didn’t he press it? He didn’t even realize he was violently shaking until Sherlock put his hand back, bringing a calming sensation over John like he had stepped into a warm bath.

“Right,” Greg nodded, happy for the confrontation to be over. “I want to make you and your other Subs an offer.”

John scoffed and rolled his eyes but continued to listen. Greg had taken care of Molly, so he sort of trusted him, but there was no way in Hell he trusted the system the Dom worked for.

“Just hear him out, John,” Sherlock told him, rubbing the teenager’s back up and down lightly. John nodded a few times for Greg to continue.

“I’m sure you know where they are-“

“But-” John tried to cut in, reiterating that he didn’t know where his friends were hiding.

Greg held his hand up, shutting John up before he continued. “Even if you don’t, I’m sure you will be able to find them. After all, they are looking for you,” the DI held up the letter Jim had left, telling whoever read it to give John back. “So, Mycroft will take your collar off, the right way I might add, and then you will be released to rejoin your friends.”

“Why?” John asked, knowing there had to be a trap he was missing. He had had enough missteps over the past couple of days and he wasn’t going to put his friends’ lives on the line if IBAD was planning something.

“Because we want you to convince them to turn themselves in,” Greg said.

John chuckled slightly at first, thinking that the man was lying. When the room stayed somber however, John quickly sobered and gave Greg his best glare. “You expect me,” he dramatically pointed to himself, “to turn in my friends so they can be bought by some sadistic arsehole who throws beer cans at their heads? Ha! You Doms are dumber than you look,” John jerked away from Sherlock’s contact and stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. Finally, he turned to Mycroft. “You can shock me all you, but I’m not going to tell you a thing,” John spat.

The eldest Holmes stood up quickly, ready to do something worse than press the button. Suddenly, John felt something yank on the waist of pants hard enough to force him to fall back on the couch. “What the fuck!” He shouted at Sherlock, who looked rather unfazed by John’s tantrum, which made the teenager even more angry.

Suddenly, John’s vision went from red to a calm yellow hue. He didn’t know how it had happened, but Sherlock was whispering in his ear and rubbing one hand along his back and the other through his hair. “Shh, easy, easy” he said as if trying to calm a wild colt. “Let him finish, John, and then we can discuss the details.” John hadn’t realized he was basically in a choke hold until Sherlock let go and righted him on the couch.

“Okay,” was all John could say before he slumped on the cushions, barley able to keep his head up.

“Wow, did you really find a cure?” he heard Greg ask, but John didn’t understand, nor did he care what the Dom meant. John just wanted to listen and then discuss details. “John, can you hear me?”

“Of course he can Lestrade, now tell him the deal,” his Dom spoke for him.

“If what I’ve been told is correct, then all the Subs are just children. Then if this is true, I can personally guarantee that they will all go to good homes with Doms who are pro research for Subs suffering from RDD. All-“

“They don’t have RDD,” John heard himself say, though he had no idea why he was talking. “I’m the only fucked up one. Me,” he hit his chest hard in case his Doms didn’t know who he was talking about. “They’ll get good homes?” he asked hopefully, because if what Greg was saying was the truth, then turning his friends in would be the best thing.

John was always the one who promoted staying homeless. It was easier that way, easier for him that was. Who wants a broken Sub? The other Subs though, they would have been fine if they could find a somewhat caring Dom. Who wouldn’t want a cute seven year old little Sub to take care of? John had stopped it though, kept his Subs away from Doms so that he wouldn’t be alone. It was time to change, because now he had a home and it wasn’t fair that Harry, Jim, and Mike didn’t.

“Yes, John, yes, I’ve handpicked the families myself,” Greg assured him, and John had no choice but to believe him. “We just want to help them.”

“I-I’ll do it.”               

Chapter Text

Chapter 15 – The Small Print

Even though the temperature outside was chilly, John’s hands and feet were sweating profusely. He had agreed to go talk to the other Subs, but now that his collar was removed and he was on his own, John was utterly terrified. Scratching nervously at the fresh gauze on the back of his neck, John kicked at the pavement, waiting for Sherlock and Greg to give him the go ahead.

“Alright John,” Greg came up to him, holding out a small devise that looked like an ink pen. “This is a tracker. All you have to do is hit the button, and it will send your location straight to us.”

“Once we receive your signal,” Sherlock chimed in, stepping up behind John and swatting his fiddling hands away from the bandage, “we will be there in less than five minutes.”

John nodded and looked at the ground, unsure of himself and everything he was getting ready to do. He thought it was the best thing for his friends; after all, just look at how happy Molly was with her new Dom. And how happy I am. The only problem was that small piece of doubt nestled deep inside of John’s brain. It was his parents’ voice yelling at him, domming him until he did horrible demeaning tasks. He couldn’t live that life and he would be damned if another Sub was put into that situation because of him.

“John?” Sherlock asked, placing his hand in the middle of John’s back. Once again, the calming presence stilled the Sub’s nerves and helped him refocus on the task at hand.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Greg told him. “I promise your friends will be taken care of.”

John took the tracker and shoved it into his jean pocket. His cheeks started to tingle as warmth seeped through his body from that one spot on his back. “Stop it,” John snapped at Sherlock, who immediately pulled his hand back and stared at him, confused.

“It’s time for you to go, John,” Mycroft announced as he stepped out of the house. He examined John, looking him up and down until nodding his head once in approval. “A prepaid cab will take you to where you want to go. He has been given specific instructions as to how far out of the city you can be taken and what to do if a…shall we say, a problem arises.” The Dom opened the cab door, gesturing for John to enter.

Fearful but curious of what Mycroft told the cabbie, John gave one last look at Sherlock and then walked towards the car. “Thanks,” John whispered. It was strange, but as he thought back, he realized no one, let alone a rich Dom, had ever held open a door specifically for him

The door slammed behind him, and John’s fate was sealed. There was no turning back and he would have to make the most important decision of his young life. “Where to, Mr. Watson?” the Cabbie asked the million pound question.

 John took a deep breath, and then told the man where to take him. For the entire ride, he twirled and rubbed the tracking device in his pocket, worried about what would happen when he pressed it. Damn it, John, what have you gotten yourself into?

“Here we are,” the man said, all too soon. With shaky legs, John exited the car and looked around to see the Thames on one side and buildings with Sub occupants on the roof on the other side of the street. Suddenly, John’s stomach grew heavy and his throat clenched tightly, bringing a bright red hue to his face. He ran over to a rubbish bin just by the edge of the water and threw up the eggs, bacon, and toast Sherlock had fed him just before he left. His stomach felt better, but his heart still felt like a pulsating rock in his chest.

Suck it up, John, you can do this. I have to do this for Sherlock…no, I mean, for the Subs. Without wasting any more time, John circled around to the back of the tallest building on the street. Spotting a ladder, he quickly scaled it to find five makeshift tents and empty food cans strewn out across the roof.

“Who’s there?” a voice John knew well asked.

“Harry, is that you?” John called, walking farther into the mess to find his sister.          

“John? John!” his sister shouted and the next thing John knew, he was pulled into a giant bear hug by a very smelly Harry. “Oh my God, you’re alright. I can’t believe it! Jim, hey, Jim!” she called, keeping John at arms length as she did.

“I’m glad you’re okay too,” John told her, trying to pull away, but as always, she was much stronger and kept her brother securely in front of her.

“What is it?” another familiar voice asked. Jim appeared from a blue tent, his face slightly more gaunt than John remembered. “John!” he shouted and ran up to give him a hug. The younger boy was bony and chilled, but his actions didn’t seem to match his appearance. “They let you go? I told you that note would work, didn’t I Mike?”

“John’s back?” Mike said as he came from inside another tent.

“Hey,” John waved to his friend, giving a wide smile as a feeling of home and friendship washed over him. It was wiped away however, when Jim asked about Molly.

“Where is she? Did you find her?” the boy pleaded, no doubt still feeling responsible for her capture.

“I-um-well, you see…it’s kind of a funny story,” John stuttered, scratching at his neck again.

“My God, what happened to your neck?” Harry asked, grabbing her brother’s head and none to gently pulling it to the side. “What did those bastards do to you?”

John flinched at Sherlock and Mycroft being called a bastard, but tried to stay calm against the barrage of questions. “That’s…umm, a funny story too, I guess.”

“Well?” Jim asked expectantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“First of all, Molly is fine. She is safe and being well looked after by a-umm…by a Dom.” John said, looking down at the ground. He didn’t know why he was acting ashamed, but he couldn’t stop from aimlessly kicking his feet against the ground.

“What?!” all three Subs asked at once.

“That’s the funny part,” John said and looked up to meet Harry’s bewildered gaze. “The Doms who took her and I in, well, they aren’t that bad.”

“John,” Mike spoke up, “are you feeling alright?”

“Of course he’s not feeling alright,” Harry said, grabbing John’s bicep. “Those arseholes brainwashed him and now he’s not our John anymore! It’s going to be okay though, isn’t it Jim?”

“No, Harry,” John pulled his arm away. He needed to make them understand what life was like with a good Dom. He needed to make them understand why he was wrong and how he had steered them wrong. “You don’t understand. They’re taking care of me. I get three meals a day, showers, a soft bed, everything.”

“John-” Harry said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You can have that too,” John told them. “I was wrong, but now I see what it’s like to have a good Dom. Please, you have to believe me. They just want to help,” John held out his hand, hoping he still held some clout with the Subs.

“Help what?” Jim scoffed. “Help give us giant scars on the back of our necks? Help brainwash us? No thanks,” he stepped in between John and Harry. “I think you need to leave, John. I don’t have any use for Dom lovers in my group.”

His group? “Mike…Harry?” John tried, frustrated at himself for not having the right words to show his friends the error in there ways. “Please, you have to trust me. They’re not going to hurt us.”

“Trust you?” Jim said. “We don’t even know you anymore.”

Tears started to well up in John’s eyes. Hopelessness took over until he felt the tracker in his pocket. If he called his Doms now, then they could take Harry, Mike, and Jim to a safe place. It could get rough though, John thought, knowing how angry the Subs were just at the thought of being taken in. No, he wouldn’t give away his friends, even if it was the best thing for them. He loved them and couldn’t betray there trust like that. If he tried again another day maybe, or had more time to prepare a speech, maybe he could convince them.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said, before climbing back down to the street. When he walked back to the front though, John’s heart sank when he saw the cab had left and was replaced by three black vehicles. Sherlock, Greg, and Mycroft were all standing outside, watching John approach.

“Well?” Mycroft asked, though John could tell they all already knew the answer.

“Please leave them alone,” John walked up to Mycroft and put his head down in submission. If the situation called for it, John could beg his arse off, and it just so happened this was a perfect opportunity.

“John, you know we cannot do that,” the Dom put a heavy hand on John’s shoulder. “Those Subs have broken many laws and need to be brought in, however, the deal will still be honored and they will be given proper care.”

“You son of a bitch!” he heard Jim shout from behind him. When John turned around he saw his once friend, red faced and pointing a pistol right at his stomach.

“Put the gun down!” Greg shouted, pulling out his own and training it on Jim. The command was strong, strong enough to make both Subs weak in the knees, but Jim fought it off.

“You were working for them the whole time, weren’t you?” Jim asked him, his eyes filling with anger and tears.

“Jim, no, I just want to help,” John shouted back to him, trying to take a step towards him, but was held back by a steel arm from Mycroft.

“Son,” Mycroft spoke, moving his arm to slowly push John behind him, “lower the gun.” It was amazing how much bliss was rolling off Mycroft. John was almost to the point of lying down and basking in it, when Jim continued to yell.

“Don’t you dare try and Dom me, you bastard!” and with that, two loud cracks rang through the air. Mycroft turned and wrapped his body tightly around John’s, protecting him from the bullet heading straight towards them.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16 – Ignorance was Bliss

When the water first hit John’s skin, it felt like being slammed into a million burning bricks. Then, as his entire body became submerged in the Thames, the true frigid temperature of the winter chilled water set in. Instead of burning bricks, it was now iron clad ice shards pressing against his skin. Honestly, John thought he was already dead and half way to whatever place disobedient Subs were sent after life.

The pain proved that he wasn’t though, and soon, John realized what had happened and why he was sinking in the Thames River. Jim had found out he was helping Sherlock and Mycroft…Mycroft!  Suddenly, the memory of Mycroft grabbing him and shielding John from shots fired. John assumed Mycroft had been shot, as it was the force of the bullet that had forced both of them to tumble into their current predicament.    

Fighting his freezing appendages, John stretched out his hand and, oh thank God, grabbed ahold of a suit jacket cuff. With all his might and what ever will he had left in him, John kicked his legs and tugged on what he hoped was the man who had just saved his life. It could have been an hour or only five seconds until his head broke the surface and cold air filled his lungs.

Thankfully, he saw a patch of red hair breach the surface as well. Shivering, John pulled an unconscious Mycroft on to his own chest as he floated on his back. He didn’t know what to do now. His feet were completely numb and most likely his insides were turning into little pink ice cubes. John almost started crying when he heard the only voice he’d ever obeyed in all of his sixteen years of life.

“John, keep kicking your feet!” Sherlock shouted from behind him.

John turned his head, feeling the cold water splash against his already frozen neck. He saw Sherlock and Greg leaning over the edge with their hands close to the water, motioning for John to swim closer. “Come on, lad, swim to us,” Greg said, blasting his bliss a million kilometers an hour towards John. Whether the cold or the amounts of adrenaline running through his veins, John didn’t feel anything compelling him to follow the order. “You can do it, John,” the older Dom praised as John forced his legs to paddle them closer.

Finally, as John felt his muscles start to fade into the coldness, a hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled up. “Take him,” John slurred out, gripping Mycroft tightly to his chest. The man was heavier than John would have thought, but perhaps it was just the fact that ice crystals were forming in his muscles.   

The next thing he knew, John was on solid ground, staring at Greg fussing over Mycroft. “Damn it John,” Sherlock said, pulling the Sub up into his arms. “You’re so stupid, so stupid,” he kept repeating as he rubbed his hands up and down John chest and stomach, trying to create warmth.

Sirens could be heard in the distance just as Mycroft began coughing and choking. “He’s okay,” Greg shouted, sounding beyond relieved, “and he’s shivering.”

“John’s not,” Sherlock said, though John didn’t know why that was important. He was feeling quite warm now, and honestly, all he wanted to do was close his eyes and curl up next to Sherlock. “Don’t close your eyes, do you understand me John?”

“mm’kay,” was all John could say, but he kept his eyes open while his Dom stroked furiously over his hair, back, and chest.

“You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, John. You’re gonna be okay,” Sherlock chanted in his ear until finally, John’s body forced his eyes to close.

 ======================================================================================

“Must you be completely obtuse? Of course he needs another blanket…no, not one of those Sub blankets, you moronic lackey, a thick wool one with soft fibers. His skin is very sensitive, and I will not have my Sub itchy while he is recovering from hypothermia!”

“Fine!”

John opened his eyes at the commotion going on around him. It seemed the ‘moronic lackey’ had left the room and only Sherlock was there, sitting next to him. Sherlock looked more pale than usual, and his normally bright inquisitive eyes looked exhausted and worried. “John!” he smiled broadly and scooted his chair closer.

“How are you feeling? I sent a nurse to fetch you better blankets. You can have my coat for a bit if you want. Does your head hurt? I told them to give you more morphine, but I’m pretty sure the Doctor lied to me when he said he gave you the proper dosage,” Sherlock said in one breath, then looked at John expecting him to answer every question.

“I’m fine,” John said, his voice sounding raspier than normal. “I just-” he rubbed his head slightly, feeling a large lump just at his hair line above his left eye. “My head does hurt a bit. What happened?”

“You hit your head on the rocks when you and Mycroft fell into the water. You went into hypothermic shock as soon as we pulled you out, so I’m sure your memory is a bit fuzzy.” Sherlock placed his hand on John’s arm, squeezing slightly as he looked into the boy’s eyes. “I want to ask you something, John. Do you feel up to it, or would you like to rest up for a while?”

John thought it strange that the normally impatient man before him was offering to wait to ask questions. Deciding he wanted to get the questions about Jim over with, John closed his eyes and swallowed deeply, wincing at his raw throat. “Go ‘head.”

Sherlock looked down, almost nervous about what he was going to ask. “Why…why did you save Mycroft?”

“What?” John asked, flabbergasted and a little offended that Sherlock thought he would let someone drown.

“He’s been horrible to you,” Sherlock said seriously, as if John wasn’t considering the question all the way through. “He bought you against your will. Made you put soap in your mouth. Forced you to eat out of his hand. And still, you almost drown pulling a man who weighs nearly twice as much as you out of the Thames. Why?”

John was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what answer Sherlock was looking for. Why wouldn’t he pull Mycroft out? It wasn’t like the Dom had beat him, or assaulted him. No, Mycroft had given him a warm place to sleep, food, water, and not to mention he was John’s Dom. “He saved me,” John said, looking down at his hands and then pulling the thin blanket up to his neck.

Sherlock’s eyes grew wide and then he smiled even wider than before. “You did it,” he said, sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Did what?” John asked, thoroughly confused.

“You fought through the defense mechanisms your body set in place. You’re cured, John. I’ve cured you.” Sherlock stood up and began pacing in front of John’s hospital bed.

“Cured me? What in the bloody hell are you talking about, Sherlock?” John asked, his mind slowly catching on to what the other man was saying.

“Your RDD, of course,” Sherlock said, not even looking at John. “Mycroft’s going to be so mad when he finds out touch worked better than that stupid collar.”

“Whoa, whoa, whao, just hold up a minute,” John said, starting to feel light headed as understanding hit him. They were just experimenting on him like a potato at the science fair. “What do you mean touch worked better than the collar? What’s going on?” The beeping on the monitor sped up rapidly as John’s heart rate rose.

“John, calm your breathing down,” Sherlock said, walking back over to sit down next to him. He put his palm on the Sub’s shoulder, and immediately, John felt warmth spread throughout his back, causing him to slow his breathing.

“You…you son of a bitch,” John whispered, looking at Sherlock, wide eyed. “You’ve been domming me all this time! Making me think what I was doing was actually…oh my God, I turned Harry and Mike over to you guys. I thought…” I thought I was doing the right thing. John put his head in his hands and pulled away from Sherlock. He had to stifle a whimper as the warmth was ripped away as the touch was lost.

“John, you did do the right thing. You just don’t understand-“

“Oh, I understand just fine. You found some secret way of domming people with RDD and now you expect me to be happy that I can go down into subdrop now and suck your dick for you! Tell me Sherlock, do I look happy?”

“No, but-”

“How did you do it, Sherlock? How in the hell did you trick me?” John asked, wincing when he felt the skin pull on the back of his neck.

Sherlock looked at him for a moment, as if contemplating how much he should tell John. “You have openings. They were small, very small, at the beginning, but I still found them on your back.”

John stared at his hands, recalling every single time Sherlock touched his back and wondering if his mind was ever his own. It was obvious he was under Sherlock’s control when he went into a deep subdrop, but the other times John couldn’t identify. “So you transmitted through touching my back?”

“Precisely, it appears not all Subs have the same location, but the moment I touched your neck the collar showed an immediate spike in your dopamine levels. It’s brilliant, John, you’re brilliant.”

“How is this brilliant? I mean seriously, Sherlock, you don’t even know me at all. You just see a means to learn a way to dominate more Subs.”

“That’s inevitable, John,” Sherlock said, looking confused by John’s comment. “I found the easiest way, we found the easiest way. Mycroft thought RDD was a disciplinary problem and wanted to attach those collars to any Sub like you. You proved him wrong, John.”

John’s face scrunched up as tears started to prick his eyes. It all made since now; why Sherlock was so nice to him, why Mycroft disciplined him, why…why he felt such strong feelings about Sherlock. The past couple of days had not only been a whirlwind, they had also been one giant lie. “What…what now?”

“First,” Sherlock said, placing his hand back on John’s shoulder even when he tried to shove it off. “we go home so you and Mycroft can heal properly.”

“That’s not what I meant,” John growled, anger starting to build in his gut.

“I know,” Sherlock said, almost condescendingly. “We will go public and start a relief effort for all Subs and Doms who own Subs with RDD. You have to realize, John, everything I did was for the best.”

“I can make my own choices!” John shouted, his throat burning. “You shouldn’t get to decide what happens for me and the rest of the Subs.”

“John, I’m trying to help-“

“Help? Who am I kidding. You’re just like all the rest, smarter yes, but still like every other fucking Dom I’ve ever met.”

Sherlock’s face fell at the words, sadness glazing his eyes over for a moment and as soon as it had arrived, it was replaced by indifference.

“I see,” Sherlock said, “well Mycroft will be able to go home in a couple of days, and then we will discuss what will happen with the collar program.”

“Whatever,” John mumbled and rolled over so his back was facing Sherlock.

“Yes, you should get some sleep. I’ll just leave you to it, then,” Sherlock said, trying to sound flat, but the hurt in his voice was obvious. After a few clicks of his heel against the tile floor, Sherlock left the room, the door closing behind him.

John finally let himself cry. Tears welled in his eyes and ran down his face, leaving long wet streaks down his pink cheeks. He felt betrayed, yes, but the fact that he didn’t even know what was going on in his own mind…well, that was enough to make him go mad. What were his thoughts and what were thoughts Sherlock wanted him to think? Was Jim okay? Would Molly and the other Subs be okay? Was everything a lie? And why in the fuck did he still get a warm tingly feeling in his stomach every time Sherlock was around him?

None of it mattered right now though when he realized his ankle was cuffed to the end of the hospital bed. He continued to sob, unable to even build an escape plan in his violated mind, when the door opened. “Get out of here, Sherlock. I really don’t want to see you right now,” John said, trying to keep the tears out of his voice.

“I believe you are going to want to hear what I have to say, Mr. Watson,” a female voice said.

John jolted, rolling over to see a tall woman with black hair pulled tightly into a ponytail. “Who are you?” John asked, ready to hit the panic button on the side his bed.

“My name is Irene Adler,” she said, smiling a wide predatory smile. “I work for the Submissive Resistance. We’d like to talk to you about joining our cause.”     

Chapter Text

Chapter 17 – Plug in Baby

“The Submissive Resistance?” John asked, looking around the room cautiously. After everything that had just happened with Sherlock, he wouldn’t put it past the Dom to try and trap him in a faux coup.

“Correct,” Irene nodded seriously.

John grinned at her, knowing this couldn’t be true and she was just a paid actress; a very convincing actress, but one nonetheless. “Okay, ‘Miss Adler,’” John made air quotes with his hands and laced her name with condensation. “How do you even know who I am?’”

“That’s very simple,” she said, pulling a file out of her brown leather bag. She flipped it open and began flipping through the contents. “John Hamish Watson, Sub of Mycroft Holmes, sixteen years two months and twenty-two days old, brother of one Harriet Jane Watson, son of both James and Marie Watson, 5’4, 102lb, blue eyes, blonde hair, birthmark on left upper thigh, favorite food-”

“Who the fuck are you people?” John said, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief. He had never seen nor heard of this group before and somehow they knew everything about him. With his hand on the panic button the nurses gave him, John glared at the neatly put together woman. “Well? You better start explaining yourself before I call my Doms in here.” John couldn’t believe his own words, but still they offered comfort in this unknown situation.

“You and I both know that’s not your best option right now John. I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help you…unless, you are content with the lies you are being fed and being a traitor to your kind. Are you John? Are you okay living with two men who care only about the collar the forced around your neck? Are you okay with them lying to you until you don’t even know what the truth looks like anymore?” She fixed him with a steely gaze that rivaled even Mycroft’s.

John scrunched up his nose and pulled his lips tight, knowing that the woman was right. He had no idea what was truth and what was lie all because of Sherlock. After a moment’s thought, he decided to listen for Molly sake, because now he was even questioning what kind of person Greg Lestrade really was. “No…no, I’m not okay, but what makes you think I’m going to trust you. Hell, I can’t even tell if you’re a Sub or a Dom.”

The left side of her mouth quirked up at that, but she simply turned around and pulled down the collar of her shirt, exposing the small bump on the back of her neck. “You’re a Sub?” John asked, shocked. He would’ve sworn the confident, forward woman in front of him was a Dom.

“Indeed, I had the good fortune to be born with a receptor, but I am like you John. All of the Subs in our cause are like you.” She turned back around to face John. Good fortune? What world are you living in?

“What do you mean, like me?”

“We have all been diagnosed with what the Doms have named RDD, but it is so much more than that. It is our ticket to take back control of this one sided world one pompous Dom at a time. And you,” she placed her hand on John’s blanket covered calf, “are key in taking down one of the final trestles holding up the IBAD network.”

“You mean Mycroft, right?”

Her smile widened again, and John knew he had hit the nail on the head. “Very good, John. I trust you know his position at IBAD is vital to their sustainability. And now that his infuriating brother has found a way to force Subs with RDD into submission…well, we will need to act fast if we are to ruin the Holmes name before the collar is demoed at the expo.”

“I don’t understand,” John said, rubbing the bump on his head. A head ache was starting to overwhelm him as all this information was thrown at him. He hated Mycroft and…how can I hate someone who took a bullet for me? And how in the hell am I supposed to hate Sherlock when he took me in out of the cold. I don’t want to hurt Sherlock.

“That’s okay, John, you don’t need to understand everything right now. What I do need from you is a yes or no, though. We need someone in the Holmes estate to feed us information, John, please, your people need you.”

John looked longingly at the door, hoping Sherlock would come in and make his decision for him. It was that right there that made John question himself, and decide to go with the other Subs. After all, the only person looking out for John was John, not Sherlock or Mycroft. “What do you need me to do?”

Irene put her folder on the bed and pulled out a little black box, similar to a makeup case. “These are seers,” she opened the box to reveal small clear circles that John figured were contacts. “Put them in your pretty blue eyes,” she said, her eyes scanning him, which made John force down a strange giggle.

John hesitantly picked up the contacts and easily placed one in each eye. Immediately, blue lines flashed across his vision, leaving one blinking caret ready for text. “Holy crap,” John gasped, looking up and down to see the lengths of this new technology.

“We will be able to see everything you see and we will also be able to send you messages via text.”

“This is real?” John asked, unsure of what he was getting himself into.

“Yes it is, John,” she said, no doubt answering that same question every time she recruited someone. “Now, your first mission-”

John started laughing at the choice of words, thinking he was the new Ian Fleming character. Coca Cola, four cubes of ice, not five. He sobered quickly though as Irene’s stern gaze fell upon him. “Sorry,” he apologized, though he still thought himself a cool secret agent.

Realizing even though John was a vital part of their overall mission, Irene still realized he was only sixteen years old and cut him some slack. “We believe Mycroft Holmes is having an explicit relationship with one of his subordinates. You need to find out if there is any validity to these allegations and if we can use it against him.”

Mycroft? Explicit relationship? John had to fight another bout of laughter at the thought of the strict Dom having…explicit relationships with anybody but his own hand, and even that was amusing to John’s teenage mind. “Alright, umm, I think I can do that,” told her.

“Good,” she said, before her face turned dark. “Now, John, I need you to understand how serious this is. If you get caught, they cannot find out about us, is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” John said, the darkness in her voice making him uncomfortable with the responsibility that was placed on his shoulders.

“If you need anything, just wright it down on a piece of paper and look at it. We will see it and be in contact with you as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” was all John could think to say.

“Alright,” she squeezed his leg reassuringly, “you’re on your own for now, but we will be in contact if any new developments arise.”

“Okay,” John said again. He was still getting used to the blinking line in his view, but John made an effort to look at the woman in the eye.

With one last squeeze, Irene left the room and closed the door. John sighed just as the door clicked, his head still pounding. “Holy fuck,” he whispered to himself, “what have I gotten myself into?” He had no idea, and quite frankly, he was terrified at what was going to happen if Sherlock found out. What was even more terrifying though, was what would happen if Sherlock didn’t.  

For once in his life, John truly wished his Doms were there to tell him what to do.