John was trying as hard as he could not to scream in frustration. It'd been hours since he'd eaten, and he'd been kept awake all night by the flashing light torture. His eyelids could barely be kept open, his brain wasn't working right, and his hands were numb from lack of circulation. His empty stomach wasn't helping matters. 

Most of all, he was worried. Worried about what would happen when the sun rose. 

Tomorrow will be worse. Moriarty's words had replayed in John's mind over and over again the whole night. He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it today. If he couldn't stand it just half of the day and night yesterday... how would he do it today?

The answer was clear: He probably wouldn't. 

"How's my favorite normal person doing?" Moriarty stepped into the room, looking well rested and happy, his tone light as if he had no care in the world. 

John envied him. "Fine."

Moriarty smirked. "Have you heard the experiment about the monkey torture?"

John winced. "Erm... no, I have not."

"Good. I do love telling stories. A group of scientists placed five monkeys in a cage, and in the middle, a ladder with bananas on top. Every time a monkey went up the ladder, the scientists soaked the rest of the monkeys with cold water. After a while, every time a monkey would start up the ladder, the others would pull it down and beat it up. After a time, no monkey would dare try climbing the ladder, no matter how great the temptation. The scientists then decided to replace one of the monkeys. The first thing this new monkey did was start to climb the ladder. Immediately, the others pulled him down and beat him up. After several beatings, the new monkey learned never to go up the ladder, even though there was no evident reason not to, aside from the beatings. The second monkey was substituted and the same occurred. The first monkey participated in the beating of the second monkey. A third monkey was changed and the same was repeated. The fourth monkey was changed, resulting in the same, before the fifth was finally replaced as well. What was left was a group of five monkeys that – without ever receiving a cold shower – continued to beat up any monkey who attempted to climb the ladder."

"Okay... good to know. But what has that got to do with me?"

"Oh, you'll see later. Just want you to know why."

"Why what?"

"I already told you, you'll see later."

"How later?"

"Today, tomorrow, who knows?"

"Um...you."

He stroked his chin mockingly. "Oh... that's right, isn't it?"

John rolled his eyes and fidgeted in his chair. 

Moriarty noticed this with a smile. "Getting uncomfortable?"

John shrugged. "A little."

Silence. Moriarty's smile died down as it grew more and more awkward.  Why was he being so... incredibly nonchalant about this? He should be chalant!

Meanwhile, John was staring at Moriarty, a little confused.

Then Moriarty's smile crawled back on his face, making the hairs on the back of John's neck stand up. "I guess today it is, then."

"Today... what? What's today?"

"I got another one of my brilliant ideas."

John bit his lip. Crap. "Is there a chance that you'll tell me what it is?"

"Nah. More fun for you to find it out yourself."

"What? Um... no. That's only fun for people who like that kind of stuff... like you. How about you do it instead?"

"John, why are you even trying to trick me? I'm smarter than anyone, even Sherlock, and you're trying to make me torture myself? You're duller than I thought before!"

John shrugged again, but his heart was pounding in his chest. He didn't really want whatever Moriarty's brain was cooking up. "Gee, thanks."

"Of course. Anytime." Jim began to walk out of the room.

"Moriarty?"

He turned around. "Yes, John?"

"Have you ever heard of... video games?"

"What?" Moriarty was actually surprised, that question was so unexpected. 

"Video games. You can kill people without doing anything, use strategy skills, and waste time doing nothing but twitch your fingers."

Moriarty smirked. "Yes, I have. I beat all the games I ever played."

John wasn't surprised; of course he had. "Well, it was worth a try."

Moriarty turned and walked out of the room, thinking. No wonder Sherlock liked having John around so much. He was so ordinary, making everything so... so simple! Jim vaguely wondered what it would be like to have your life to be normal, being entertained for the silliest things, content and... Jim shook himself, trying to get rid of the thoughts, but they wouldn't budge. 

Having John around was making the mighty, overly-smart Moriarty second-guess himself!

But John wasn't aware of that, Moriarty knew, as he looked at the security cameras, staring at the figure who was slumped over. John was trying to get some sleep before the rest of the day was ruined. 

Moriarty looked at the clock. It was eight o'clock already! A whole hour wasted! He scrambled to make up for lost time. "Edgar. Get him on his feet. Remember what I told you yesterday? Do that."

Edgar, a tall, muscular man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, stood up and stretched. He'd been in that chair for what seemed to be forever. Now he could finally do something. "Yes, sir."

John heard the door open, but kept his eyes shut. "What now, Moriarty?"

"I ain't no Moriarty," a deep, dark voice replied. 

John opened his eyes at that. He gave the man a once-over. "Okay, not-Moriarty, who exactly are you, then?"

The man shrugged. "Don't see why you need to know."

John didn't know what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut. 

The man walked over with a crack of his muscles, making John shrink a little, involuntarily. The man smirked. 

John's eyebrows furrowed, and he straightened. He didn't want to look like a coward in front of this guy. He'd seen worse. But inside, he was still scared. Wouldn't you be?

The man pulled his arm back, and then John felt pain burst in his jaw, then the back of his head as it hit the ground. Then... nothing. 

                                                                                        ...

Tears slipped down Molly's face for what felt like the billionth time. She was hungry, incredibly hungry, and she hadn't been able to sleep the whole night. There was this stupid light that kept flashing, keeping her awake.

Her mind was whirling as she replayed the scene of what happened again.

"Toby..." Molly picked her cat up, and placed him on the floor outside the door. "How many times do I have to tell you to stay outside?"

The cat pitifully meowed in response. 

"Go on, get!" Molly shooed Toby away and shut the door. 

She pulled her lab coat off and put it over her chair, pulled her shoes off, and slumped in the chair. It'd been a long day at her job and she was tired. Tired and bored. 

Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her purse, and read the text she'd just received. 

"Hi," it read. 

She looked to see who sent it, but it was an unknown caller. 

"Who is this?" she texted back.

"It's Jimmy."

Molly almost dropped her phone. She clutched it tightly, then slammed it on the table. It buzzed again. She wouldn't read it. She wouldn't read it!

It buzzed once again. Curiosity built up inside her, threatening to overcome her. She slowly picked up the phone. 

"Surprised, Molly?"

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

Molly was bemused at the second text, but then caught the full meaning of the words. 

She sat up, ran to the door, and opened it. "Oh, no!"

Her calico cat lay still on the ground, covered in blood. She knelt down and felt for its pulse. Nothing. 

She stood up, eyes blazing. "How dare you!"

"Sorry, Molly." Jim stepped out from behind a tree, binoculars hanging from his neck. "It was the only way to get you outside."

Molly curled her fists. "Why... are... you... here?" 

"Sherlock."

"What? Why don't you just see Sherlock, then?"

He chuckled. "Get her."

His voice was so casual, that Molly didn't react until the meaning of the words dawned on her. But it was too late. A raspy cloth was shoved over her mouth, and a funny scent made her woozy. She slumped, and the man slung her over his shoulder. Semiconscious, she vaguely wondered what was happening. Everything was so fast. So incredibly fast.

"Should we watch Glee again?" Jim's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"All of it was a lie. All of it." Molly stiffened.

"I thought we've already gone over this. Of course it was a lie. You're just... so dull!"

Tears of frustration filled her eyes and she struggled helplessly against the plastic zip ties around her wrists. 

"I want to show you something. No, someone. Just as dull as you."

"Who?" Her curiosity overcame her again. 

He took the plastic ties off of her wrists, saying nothing, but the tips of his lips were quirking with amusement.

Uh-oh.

Whistling, he led her down the dark halls, covering her eyes, and into a room. He took his hands off. "Surprise!"

Molly stared. "John!"

John was lying on the ground, a puddle of blood pooling around his head and a shattered chair beneath him. A man was standing over him, a satisfied smirk spread over his face. 

"What...what did you do to him?"

"Oh, calm down, he'll be fine. He'll have a headache or a concussion, maybe, but he'll be fine."

"Why are you doing this?" Molly couldn't barely believe that this was real. 

"You'll see in the end. You'll see. Well, enjoy your new home!"