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astudyinvioletcw: violence, mention of torture and cult rituals
Sherlock walked down the street disguised as a young woman. He softened his features and hid the darkness under his eyes with the help of makeup. Aiming for something a woman without help could do on her own, he loosely plaited his long dark wig and tied the end with a simple ribbon. His dress and gloves were simple, brown and fitting for a lower-middle class, working woman. A secretary, Sherlock thought. Yes, that would be his persona for the next few hours as he perused the missing people flyers pasted to the walls. There were some possible leads in connection with the crystalized people. If he could match the crystal statues with these posters, then that would be more evidence to prove the innocence of Professor Turo and Freminet. Alhaitham was a much harder case as he was likely arrested for assaulting someone on the force and interfering with an arrest, but if he could weigh an argument more heavily on Freminet's behalf, then perhaps it would carry to Alhaitham.
"It ain't safe for a pretty lady to be out on her own. Don'tcha know people have been going missing?" a gruff voice spoke from behind Sherlock. The man is solidly built with ox horns on either side of his head. "Why don't we escort you to some place safer where we can spend more time together, Miss Watson?"
There wasn't enough time to spin around before more people came out of the shadows. Sherlock was surrounded. How did they come so close without him knowing? Had he been that worn down from investigating while also dodging those who would collect a bounty on him? Hell's bells! He was wearing the dark wig that he used as the maid "Mary Watson" and a similar enough role. Five people total, leering, confident. Two solidly built (ox man and human woman), practiced in martial arts based on how they hold their body. The other three armed with weapons (rhino woman, badger woman, and squid man), worn but functional. No useful obstacles in the vicinity to use. No other soul to come to his aid. Damn it.
He schooled his surprise and gave a meek smile as he turned to face the ox man. "I am flattered, but I am expected." Deflect danger by implying someone else, someone close and dependable. "My husband is waiting for me." (Wait, was he now implying that he was married to John Watson?! Dear Lord, may the man never find out.)
"He'd let a doll like you out alone?" The grin on the ox man's face revealed he'd lost a tooth at some point.
"I am far more capable than any doll to be kept on a shelf." Sherlock lifted his chin with an air of defiance, trying to keep focus on his face and away from his hands as he went for his Ring of Returning.
"Ah-ah. None of that now."
The human and badger rushed at Sherlock using speed that had to be augmented by magic. They grabbed his arms while the squid man pressed a cloth against his nose and mouth. Sherlock couldn't break free. He couldn't hold his breath long enough.
He faded between bouts of consciousness. He woke in a strange nondescript room. Even as drugged as he was, Sherlock should have noticed something meaningful, but his captors shoved him into a small vat of water. He knew nothing more until he awoke later in a cell. He was still wearing his water drenched clothes and wig, which miraculously hadn't fallen off. A quick check showed that his captors hadn't done a thorough search of his person. His charms and Ring of Returning were gone, but his lockpicks were still stashed away. The day's notes were also gone, but the majority and most damning of information, his casebook, was locked safely in the S.H. Detective Agency.
Listening for anyone else around, Sherlock got to work. They must not have thought him much of a threat to lock him into a place by only a mechanical means. He was free in moments and sneaking down the halls. He'd need to find where his charms and Ring of Returning ended up.
Two turns later and he only found the ox man and his other captors. Sherlock tried to call upon his light magic. Nothing happened. It's just like when his tattoo fades before re-inking. The magic was gone. His captors laughed and darted his way. Sherlock searched his mind for the faint boxing lessons from Mycroft and attempted a punch. His captor parried it away with hardly a blink. He tried a kick he'd seen Heizou do. His captor grabbed his ankle and sent him to the floor.
"Mrs. Watson, I don't think you fully understand how things are going to work here." The ox man pressed his knee against Sherlock, pinning him down. He took a fistful of Sherlock's hair and tugged to force him to look at the ox man. The wig pulled free, the previous water and current force overcoming Sherlock's previous efforts. With his makeup washed off and now having lost his wig, his captors saw Sherlock's identity clearly for the first time.
"Now this is fun. Our pretty young lady is actually a pretty young man." The ox man laughed. "It doesn't matter in the end. He'll still make a beautiful statue."
Sherlock no longer bothered to disguise his voice. "I won't."
"A masterpiece doesn't need to give permission."
"You're my masterpiece," echoed Verner Vogel's voice within Sherlock's head. "I turned Sisyphus into Ozymandias."
Sherlock's blood boiled. "I am no one's masterpiece."
"He has some fire, but we'll take care of that." The ox man nodded to the squid man. "Do your thing."
The squid man pressed a hand to Sherlock's temple. "Tell us what you know. Tell us everything." The squid man's voice penetrated Sherlock's head and sent waves of pain through Sherlock's mind. Images of red eyes peering through the Abysmal waters filled his vision.
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! The squid man's eyes rolled up into his head, and he started chanting gibberish... No, Sherlock had heard those words before in the Edelweiss Institute from some of the brainwashed kidnapped and wax cylinders.
"What the hell?! What did you do?!" The ox man pushed Sherlock to the ground.
Sherlock blinked in confusion. He felt the squid man attempt to enter his mind, but he hadn't done anything. ... Was he so insane that a normal mind could not handle his?
"We have other ways of getting information. Don't hurt his pretty little face. Keep to what'll be hidden under his clothes. He's been tailing us. Find out what he knows."
"I don't fear death for whatever you can do to me, I've felt worse."
"We'll see about that. Start the crystallization process. Use the new one. And hang him up somewhere we can pull him back down and give him our full attention. Let's make his torture a daily task, shall we? He'll talk."
Despite the corset, a strong punch to the abdomen sent him spiraling back into unconsciousness. Sherlock woke again briefly in the middle of a blood circle with cuts on his hands. Every fiber of his being felt electrocuted and on fire as chanting filled his head. Darkness took him again.
Sherlock's life soon became a cycle of being locked in a cage hung over water, being beaten for information, refusing that information, and watching his body turn into an unnerving pale green crystal. His dress became stained with his blood, the fabric torn and tattered in places. Sherlock was alone except for when he was interrogated. The days blurred together, but if his captors kept to their threat, Sherlock could keep some track of the passage of time.
The day his sight and hearing on one side vanished was the same day Sherlock stopped trying to find a way to escape. His only goal was to keep silent for the sake of the others. His only goal. The only thing he allowed himself to know.
Sherlock walked down the street disguised as a young woman. He softened his features and hid the darkness under his eyes with the help of makeup. Aiming for something a woman without help could do on her own, he loosely plaited his long dark wig and tied the end with a simple ribbon. His dress and gloves were simple, brown and fitting for a lower-middle class, working woman. A secretary, Sherlock thought. Yes, that would be his persona for the next few hours as he perused the missing people flyers pasted to the walls. There were some possible leads in connection with the crystalized people. If he could match the crystal statues with these posters, then that would be more evidence to prove the innocence of Professor Turo and Freminet. Alhaitham was a much harder case as he was likely arrested for assaulting someone on the force and interfering with an arrest, but if he could weigh an argument more heavily on Freminet's behalf, then perhaps it would carry to Alhaitham.
"It ain't safe for a pretty lady to be out on her own. Don'tcha know people have been going missing?" a gruff voice spoke from behind Sherlock. The man is solidly built with ox horns on either side of his head. "Why don't we escort you to some place safer where we can spend more time together, Miss Watson?"
There wasn't enough time to spin around before more people came out of the shadows. Sherlock was surrounded. How did they come so close without him knowing? Had he been that worn down from investigating while also dodging those who would collect a bounty on him? Hell's bells! He was wearing the dark wig that he used as the maid "Mary Watson" and a similar enough role. Five people total, leering, confident. Two solidly built (ox man and human woman), practiced in martial arts based on how they hold their body. The other three armed with weapons (rhino woman, badger woman, and squid man), worn but functional. No useful obstacles in the vicinity to use. No other soul to come to his aid. Damn it.
He schooled his surprise and gave a meek smile as he turned to face the ox man. "I am flattered, but I am expected." Deflect danger by implying someone else, someone close and dependable. "My husband is waiting for me." (Wait, was he now implying that he was married to John Watson?! Dear Lord, may the man never find out.)
"He'd let a doll like you out alone?" The grin on the ox man's face revealed he'd lost a tooth at some point.
"I am far more capable than any doll to be kept on a shelf." Sherlock lifted his chin with an air of defiance, trying to keep focus on his face and away from his hands as he went for his Ring of Returning.
"Ah-ah. None of that now."
The human and badger rushed at Sherlock using speed that had to be augmented by magic. They grabbed his arms while the squid man pressed a cloth against his nose and mouth. Sherlock couldn't break free. He couldn't hold his breath long enough.
He faded between bouts of consciousness. He woke in a strange nondescript room. Even as drugged as he was, Sherlock should have noticed something meaningful, but his captors shoved him into a small vat of water. He knew nothing more until he awoke later in a cell. He was still wearing his water drenched clothes and wig, which miraculously hadn't fallen off. A quick check showed that his captors hadn't done a thorough search of his person. His charms and Ring of Returning were gone, but his lockpicks were still stashed away. The day's notes were also gone, but the majority and most damning of information, his casebook, was locked safely in the S.H. Detective Agency.
Listening for anyone else around, Sherlock got to work. They must not have thought him much of a threat to lock him into a place by only a mechanical means. He was free in moments and sneaking down the halls. He'd need to find where his charms and Ring of Returning ended up.
Two turns later and he only found the ox man and his other captors. Sherlock tried to call upon his light magic. Nothing happened. It's just like when his tattoo fades before re-inking. The magic was gone. His captors laughed and darted his way. Sherlock searched his mind for the faint boxing lessons from Mycroft and attempted a punch. His captor parried it away with hardly a blink. He tried a kick he'd seen Heizou do. His captor grabbed his ankle and sent him to the floor.
"Mrs. Watson, I don't think you fully understand how things are going to work here." The ox man pressed his knee against Sherlock, pinning him down. He took a fistful of Sherlock's hair and tugged to force him to look at the ox man. The wig pulled free, the previous water and current force overcoming Sherlock's previous efforts. With his makeup washed off and now having lost his wig, his captors saw Sherlock's identity clearly for the first time.
"Now this is fun. Our pretty young lady is actually a pretty young man." The ox man laughed. "It doesn't matter in the end. He'll still make a beautiful statue."
Sherlock no longer bothered to disguise his voice. "I won't."
"A masterpiece doesn't need to give permission."
"You're my masterpiece," echoed Verner Vogel's voice within Sherlock's head. "I turned Sisyphus into Ozymandias."
Sherlock's blood boiled. "I am no one's masterpiece."
"He has some fire, but we'll take care of that." The ox man nodded to the squid man. "Do your thing."
The squid man pressed a hand to Sherlock's temple. "Tell us what you know. Tell us everything." The squid man's voice penetrated Sherlock's head and sent waves of pain through Sherlock's mind. Images of red eyes peering through the Abysmal waters filled his vision.
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! The squid man's eyes rolled up into his head, and he started chanting gibberish... No, Sherlock had heard those words before in the Edelweiss Institute from some of the brainwashed kidnapped and wax cylinders.
"What the hell?! What did you do?!" The ox man pushed Sherlock to the ground.
Sherlock blinked in confusion. He felt the squid man attempt to enter his mind, but he hadn't done anything. ... Was he so insane that a normal mind could not handle his?
"We have other ways of getting information. Don't hurt his pretty little face. Keep to what'll be hidden under his clothes. He's been tailing us. Find out what he knows."
"I don't fear death for whatever you can do to me, I've felt worse."
"We'll see about that. Start the crystallization process. Use the new one. And hang him up somewhere we can pull him back down and give him our full attention. Let's make his torture a daily task, shall we? He'll talk."
Despite the corset, a strong punch to the abdomen sent him spiraling back into unconsciousness. Sherlock woke again briefly in the middle of a blood circle with cuts on his hands. Every fiber of his being felt electrocuted and on fire as chanting filled his head. Darkness took him again.
Sherlock's life soon became a cycle of being locked in a cage hung over water, being beaten for information, refusing that information, and watching his body turn into an unnerving pale green crystal. His dress became stained with his blood, the fabric torn and tattered in places. Sherlock was alone except for when he was interrogated. The days blurred together, but if his captors kept to their threat, Sherlock could keep some track of the passage of time.
The day his sight and hearing on one side vanished was the same day Sherlock stopped trying to find a way to escape. His only goal was to keep silent for the sake of the others. His only goal. The only thing he allowed himself to know.