snowblindrpg | [network] Noisy Black, Part Three [open] [horror/surgery effects/note specifics please]

[The sound of Mycroft's voice is both a relief and a curse. He's still alive, but he sounds awful; pained and confused, nothing like the usual sharp intelligence and awareness that his brother usually possesses. Worry and fear are coiled like two snakes around his heart and throat, but he does his best not to let that show in his voice.]

I presume you mean Eurus.

[He's still mad about that, but now isn't the time.]

It's not her, Mycroft, you're in Norfinbury. Think, don't you remember?

[There's a muddled sort of relief, coupled with apprehension, by hearing Sherlock's voice. It was...somehow a bad thing? Couldn't quite place why, of course he needed to warn Sherlock about her. Why would he not want to contact him?]

Yes, of course. Eurus.

She's captured me again, clearly. I'm back in Sherrinf--

[Norfinbury?]

No, that's not right.

[He sounds...upset. He knows he's confused--]

I--it's not Sherrinford, but it must be...

You're caught in a building in Norfinbury, Mycroft.

[He's being as patient as he can, coaxing the truth out of his brother rather than badgering it out of him.]

I need you to take a moment to gather your thoughts, and then tell me what they've done to you.

[This was...this was all wrong, this was Sherrinford, wasn't it? No, it was Norfinbury...he was here, along with Sherlock, and John and Mary Watson...

Blast. Why was it so difficult to think?]

...not Eurus?

No, it wasn't...she's not here, but it has to be her...

[A pause, as he tried desperately to put his mind in order.]

Sherlock. I'm...it's a cage of some kind, an office building...there was a surgery, and--

[A pained pause.]

--it's too much. I can't stop it. Seeing.

Edited 2017-07-30 11:46 (UTC)

[They know that much already, it's nothing new, and worry makes him want to be impatient about it. Mycroft is better than this, he's not some random witness member of the public who needs to be coaxed to remember the useful details, he's a Holmes and he's objectively smarter than Sherlock so it's frustrating to have so little to go on.]

What did they do to you, Mycroft?

[He needs detail.

He doesn't want it, but he needs it. What does he mean that he can't stop seeing? He needs to be prepared for the worst when he gets Mycroft out, to give him the best chance of survival and recovery.]

[The repetition helps, a little. The question sinks into the whirlwind of his mind, but it's difficult for him to grasp hold of the thoughts that form and fade away just as quickly.]

Torture.

Standard procedure, though--I would not condone it. Illegal, isn't it? Removal, I mean. No Geneva convention here.

[He's struggling to put his thoughts in proper order.]

Nail removal, water boarding--except not with water. With impossible--the impossible, it's in my lungs, it hurts-- [Come on, think! It was important for Sherlock to know, but part of him was reluctant to tell him. No, he needed to know? Think!]

Static, it was a bucket of static. [He seemed a bit more lucid. Still didn't take away the awful tone to his voice.] I don't know how. I don't know how it's possible but it's in my lungs and it's there in every breath, it sparks...not pleasant, no.

They removed my nails, not as bad as some of what I've seen here---

[--sight. His voice shakes, his thoughts starting to betray him again.]

--I can't stop seeing, Sherlock. It's too much, they made me see--

--eyes open? Yes, sewn open. I don't know why they're not dried out. Haven't gotten any respite...

Edited 2017-07-31 06:23 (UTC)

[Sherlock has endured torture before, but nothing on that level. He had been beaten, starved, and kept in a sleep deprived state, but-- this? This is horrific, and it makes his fingers twitch with an urge to do sudden and vicious violence to the people who've done this to Mycroft. An odd response, he's not usually so emotional, even with the people he cares about.

A logical part of him is even relieved. None of the things Mycroft has mentioned are life threatening, and most are fixable, the only worrying one from a medical standpoint is the static. He doesn't know what that will do to him.]

Have you not tried cutting the stitches at your eyes?

[He knows that will hurt, but sleep deprivation will do much worse things to him in the long run.]

You must try to focus, Mycroft. We are all coming as fast as we can, but you must do your part by enduring until then.

I have nothing to do so with, nor any nails to try.

[He managed to have a dry tone.]

He put...some sort of something or the other on them...liquid? Perhaps s'why they're not dried out but it's too much, I can't stop it. Not meant to--constant visual input isn't good--even dark isn't dark--

[He couldn't make anyone understand how much he desperately wanted to just stop seeing--]

Rescue?

[A pause.]

No, you mustn't come here--if this conversion works, somehow--you cannot come here. I will not be made to hurt you. [He's suddenly crystal clear, his tone ice cold.] If we can't shake this free, I cannot be allowed to hurt you. Do you understand me?

Edited 2017-07-31 07:02 (UTC)

Mycroft.

[It's a sharp snap in return and, for once, Sherlock is not thinking about protecting the farce they both engage in where they pretend not to care about one another. The situation is too dire.]

I am perfectly capable of handling myself, and I will not leave you like this. Stop arguing, you never know when to give in gracefully.

[So speaks Sherlock Holmes.]

Find a cloth and tie it loosely over your face, it might help with the sensory input.

[Sherlock's refusal to back down was...somehow both good and bad. It was difficult to discern exactly why at the moment.]

I...I tried, I cannot rip the cloaks, and that is all we have. I have been using the cloak to cover my face, but it seems to only help a little.

[A pause.]

Please. If we can't get out, we might become like them.

...if you become like them, I'll kill you myself.

[It's the best comfort that he can think of.]

But I'll have to be there to do either, so you'll simply have to resign yourself to my approach.

Good. That's good.

[He sounds...like he relaxed a little, one worry was relieved, anyway.]

No--let someone else. John Watson, he can go for you instead.

[Annnnd back to the same old argument.]

I'm sorry, Mycroft, I didn't catch that last part, the line is bad.

[He's not humouring that even a little bit.]

Get what rest you can, brother mine.

[Sure it was. Even in his limited state, Mycroft knew that much. A slight, wan smile. Oh, Sherlock.

He really didn't hold out too much hope that he'd see Sherlock again. And that would be a good thing, after all.]

Of course.

Goodbye, brother mine.

[There would be no rest here.]

[network] Noisy Black, Part Three [open] [horror/surgery effects/note specifics please]

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