Moriarty steps out, wearing one of Molly's kitten patterned pajama pants.
"Oh, Sherlock. Do you like my pajamas?" He beams, a sly smile playing his lips.
"What are you doing here? We had a deal." Sherlock's grip on my hand tightens.
"Yes, I'm well aware of that...I'm not going to do anything but have a sleepover with these sweet girls. You should stay." He tells him.
I feel dizzy.
"Look, I don't know what you're playing at, but if you touch either of them..." Sherlock threats him quietly, not finishing his sentence when he notices my eyes begin to close.
I feel like I'm about to pass out...
"Y/N?" Sherlock lets go of my hand and holds both of my shoulders in place, shaking me.
"Sherlock...I'm sleepy..." I sigh out exhaustedly, before blacking out.
"No, Y/N! Don't-"
____________________
I wake up in a cold, dark room. I'm tied to a chair, and Sherlock is in front of me, also tied to a chair. The room is large and dimly lit.
He's awake and staring at me:
"Y/N, are you alright?"
"Yea...what's going on, where am I?" I panic, trying to get out of the tight rope that bound me.
It was strange because Sherlock was tied tighter than me, with tape instead of rope.
"Moriarty...he must've done something because Molly and I had passed out shortly after you did."
I look next to me to see that Molly is tied up exactly like Sherlock, except she's still asleep.
The metal door opens and in walks Moriarty, in his famous Westwood suit.
"Y/N." He walks over and unties me.
I'm very confused.
"Did you do this to us?" I ask, quickly standing up and rubbing my wrists.
"Yep, but you won't be leaving anytime soon. This place is surrounded by snipers." He beams, and I quickly grab him roughly by his collar.
"Let us go, or I'll bash your head into this wall." I threat.
"Oh, I thought you were the sweet, innocent Y/N from highschool, guess you haven't changed since the injections." He sighs playfully.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of now." I glare.
"If you were smart, you would know what I'm capable of." He snaps his fingers, and I look around for some type of bomb or men.
There's nothing.
Had he failed? What was supposed to happen when he snapped his fing-
Oh.
As I'm glancing around I notice a sniping light on Sherlock's head. My eyes widen in horror, and I avert my attention back to Moriarty who is now smiling.
"Don't..." I shudder out.
"I will." His smile grows larger.
"Please..." I let go of him.
"Fine." Moriarty walks closer to me, and grips my waist as I back into a wall.
I keep my eyes fixed on Sherlock, who's staring with a pale, drained expression as Moriarty runs his lips along my neck, sliding his hands up my shirt.
"Stop it..." Sherlock manages out weakly.
"It's okay, Sherlock..." I flash a false smile to reassure him.
"No...stop!" Sherlock says with rage.
Moriarty works the buttons off of my shirt, and bites areas of my neck as I notice Sherlock staring with hurt.
"Sherlock don't...don't look."
Tears run down my cheek as Sherlock stares in horror, and I try my best not to whimper, for it will only make my love sadder.
My eyes are open and gazing lifelessly into Sherlock's intense irises.
Moriarty's hands are everywhere, I am violated way beyond my boundaries of comfort.
It's worse than the memory from high school. Much worse.
"LEAVE HER ALONE. TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT. I'LL DO ANYTHING." Sherlock yells, before Moriarty can get any of my undergarments off.
Moriarty stops and chuckles lightly, not moving from his spot.
"You don't understand, Sherlock...I don't want anything from you. Not yet. I'm just having some fun right now, so please keep quiet as I enjoy myself. If I hear you speak one more time I'll get my men to kill Y/N in front of you." He replies, unhooking my bra as it falls to the floor.
Sherlock looks down, shutting his eyes tightly, as I stare at him, my face now flooded with tears:
"Go. D-Deep into your mind palace. Block e-everything out, Sherlock p-please. Don't look, don't l-listen just close your eyes..."