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"Liam..." Upon waking up to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling... Sherlock snapped out of the daze he was in almost immediately."Liam!"The last memory he had was of pulling the professor into his arms before they crashed into the Thames...Was Liam okay?The nerves in his body felt like they were screaming as Sherlock threw the blanket that had been covering him as he stumbled out of the bed he had evidently been lying on. At the very least, he could say that he hadn't been kidnapped given the lack of restraints, but a quick examination of the almost empty room told him that he was definitely underground... Whatever. Concern for his own circumstances could wait until later since he didn't know if Liam was alive and needed to see that he was okay... but given how weak Sherlock felt, he sincerely hoped that he had taken the brunt of the impact during their fall as he fumbled for a glass of water from the pitcher that had been left on the nightstand next to the bed he was in, before taking the cane that had also been left there.The water didn't seem to have anything in it, so that likely meant that whoever had been looking after him wanted him to be in one piece, and after a few minutes of walking, having left the room, Sherlock's vigilance had only increased from hearing rapid footsteps a few times, all from people who clearly weren't expecting his presence... but since they weren't stopping him or moving anywhere close to him, Sherlock didn't want to pay them any more attention than needed as he continued to investigate. It was odd though, those people were probably guards, if not monitors of some kind, and while he was clearly in some government facility that conducted some medical operations, if the equipment and antiseptic that was in some of the rooms he had passed was anything to go by, there were barely any other people he could detect... though that hardly mattered since Sherlock still hadn't seen any sign of Liam.They had fallen together, so whoever found Sherlock and brought him to wherever here was, would have probably found Liam too... and while Sherlock had to remind himself of that possibility at each empty room he walked by, that gnawing fear vanished once he caught the sight of blond hair in a room that was likely positioned at the exact opposite end of this floor he had woken up on.
Liam.
Sherlock felt his heart almost leap out of his chest. Even though Liam's golden blond hair had dulled and his cheeks seemed to have sunken in, Sherlock could see that Liam was breathing, and he immediately helped himself into the room. The door wasn't locked so he thankfully didn't have to break anything... though Sherlock admittedly didn't know if he would have been able to do that given how badly he was tripping over his own feet as he moved as quickly as he could to Liam, who appeared to have fallen asleep where he was sitting, behind a small desk that was positioned facing the door.The open book on the desk and the way Liam's sleeping head was tilted slightly to his left and his quiet breathing honestly made Sherlock feel that he was looking at a sight that was more beautiful than any painting that could ever exist, and Sherlock knew that he wasn't able to stop himself from pulling the blond into his arms, vaguely noting the new scars over his left eye, the thin shawl draped over his simple outfit, the blanket covering his legs, or the fact that Liam was sitting in a wheelchair."Thank you, Liam." Liam was alive, and that was what mattered... and while Sherlock wanted to bask in the relief of knowing that Liam was alive, he was whisked away from his thoughts by a pained groan from Liam."Liam, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Sherlock pulled his hands back immediately. From the contact, he could tell that Liam's back or shoulders had been injured... but upon seeing how Liam didn't even acknowledge his presence after his eyes fluttered open, Sherlock felt cold sweat dripping down his back.Liam... wasn't looking at him.Sure, there might have only been light in one of Liam's eyes, but their focus hadn't shifted once, and they were simply gazing forward, almost like a doll..."What... happened to you, Liam?" It was probably pointless to ask the question given how Liam was truly behaving as if he wasn’t able to see him, much less recognize his dear detective, but since that was the case, Sherlock carefully decided to investigate what he could, and starting by rolling up Liam's sleeves. He'd preferably take the blond's shirt off, but he would at least exercise common decency because this was Liam... though those sentiments were quickly smashed into smithereens as he noticed the leather strap across Liam's upper body that secured him to his seat once Sherlock tugged away the shawl.The blond's arms looked a lot thinner than he remembered, but what truly worried Sherlock was the large number of puncture marks on Liam's beautiful skin... and while a portion of them looked recent, most of them seemed to have been made quite a while ago.With trembling hands, Sherlock pulled back the blanket covering Liam's lower half, and to his horror, he was greeted by the sight of bandages over equally identical vicious scars on each of Liam's legs, and a manacle attached to one of Liam's ankles that was chained to the chair he was sitting in."Who... who did this to you, Liam?" Given the way they fell from Tower Bridge and what had happened in the aftermath, there was absolutely no way Liam could have sustained the injuries he had to his legs..."Sherly... you're awake..." Sherlock barely spared a glance at his brother, whom he heard almost blundering into the room with heavy breaths. Mycroft's expression was one of disbelief and fatigue... and while it seemed like his older brother had aged five years since he had last seen him, Sherlock couldn't bring himself to care about that. Not when Liam was like this. Broken and unresponsive."Please tell me that I'm imagining this, Mycky... please..." Sherlock wasn't sure if he had ever begged his brother like this, but this nightmare he was dealing with just couldn't be real. It just couldn't...Mycroft pressed his hand to his brow. He was being unusually expressive. With clear bitterness on his face."I've told you before, Sherly. You overlook far too many details and make too many assumptions in your deductions." The tone the Government adopted... was disturbingly merciful. Sherlock recognized it from his childhood. From the one time Sherlock had asked why a bird he had found was no longer able to fly... when he had been too young to understand what had happened. And then there were all the other times when the people their house employed were leaving... but that had gradually come to a stop once Mycroft assumed his current position. "What you see now... is the result of William James Moriarty's final plan. A plan to have the Lord of Crime killed... by his own hand."Sherlock's disbelief at what was said... obviously must have shown since Mycroft beckoned him to sit at the lone table in the room before pushing Liam over, then picking up the cane Sherlock had dropped to the floor and setting that beside him. Aside from the empty bed Sherlock had walked by earlier and the desk Liam was at, there were no other pieces of furniture in the room. "L3..." Mycroft paused. Seemingly unsure what was best to say... though what he did snapped Liam's attention to him."What, Liam only responds to you now?" Fury, rage... and despair was all Sherlock could feel as he spat out those words. It was better to focus on that... instead of how Liam was responding to something that wasn't his name.Mycroft shook his head to deny the statement. "That's his designation as a piece of property belonging to the Government, as he will no longer respond to being called "William."""I'm sorry, what?!" Sherlock could feel bile rise in his throat. This was so much worse knowing that Mycroft actually wasn't trying to do anything but inform him of the situation... and calmly. Somehow. Because he could tell that Mycroft genuinely didn't want to further agitate him."A tool that can only be told what to do... in service of the Government to atone for the crimes he committed. That's what William wanted to be... for the rest of his life." Mycroft sighed. "L3, inform Sherlock of what happened to William James Moriarty, and tell me who I am speaking to now.""The individual who was known as William James Moriarty is dead. You are now conversing with an entity known as L3, whose role is to serve in any capacity possible to designated individuals recognized by the Government. Are there any additional orders or inquiries?" Liam's voice... sounded completely unrecognizable to Sherlock's ears."First, designate this individual, Sherlock Holmes, as an individual recognized by the Government. His authority should be... the same as mine. Second... respond to "Liam" when Sherlock Holmes is the one addressing you." What his brother was saying too. The words he was saying were words he knew... but his mind couldn't understand them. Or perhaps he just didn't want to understand them."Understood. Are there any additional orders or inquiries?" There was no emotion in Liam's words. There was no warmth from the kind Professor Moriarty, no playfulness from the man who challenged him on the train, or even the slightest traces of the tinges of despair Sherlock had heard at 221B. There was just... nothing. Nothing of the Liam he knew and loved."Not at this time." Mycroft looked away. He had the decency to look away from whatever grief Sherlock knew was on his own face as he stared at Liam. The Liam who let his eyes flutter shut. The Liam who was seemingly no longer able to recognize his own self as a person... "Having this done to him... was William's condition for not releasing everything he had on the British Empire to every other global power."Sherlock jolted out of his seat. "You know Liam wouldn't do that!""Do I? I knew that Moriarty killed a man in front of his children.""But that was!" He slammed the table, and Sherlock felt himself cringing. His body was way too weak for him to be exerting himself."Sherly, I know that was part of his plan... a plan that I personally approved... but you didn't see how distraught he was after seeing the extent of your injuries or when he heard your doctor's diagnosis. All he knew was that he had no idea if you would ever wake up again, and believed that he, as the Lord of Crime, was the one who had killed you." His older brother's way of speaking indicated that he really didn't want to argue, probably because Sherlock felt like he was going to start hyperventilating any second now... and Mycroft could see that. "It's not that I didn't try to stop him, but how long do you think you were unconscious?""I don't know. A few months, give or take?" He was feeling pretty emancipated, but since his supposed injuries had all healed, that much time was probably in the appropriate range?"You were asleep for two years, Sherly. I managed to stop William from doing this to himself for a full year."Sherlock blinked as he slumped back down. Two years?"And I tried to stop him. Argued about the effect this would have on you, but eventually, William stopped listening. He was going mad with grief, physically starving and injuring himself, doing whatever he could to push his body to its limits... and in such a state, I couldn't trust that he would not harm the country or wouldn't forget his desire to not harm innocents. Not when... not when Albert killed himself." Mycroft looked... so defeated. So unlike the Government and confident and smug older brother that Sherlock was accustomed to seeing. "And I didn't know if telling you about William's death... would be preferable to how things are now."Sherlock swallowed. His mouth felt so incredibly dry as he watched his brother take a stack of papers and three books out of the bag he had brought along, setting them down on the table. "Anyway... you can have these. The first set of documents are the plans William came up with to kill the Lord of Crime and his medical records up until his last physical check-up a week ago, and the books are what he wrote in response to my last orders to him. The book on top supposedly contains whatever came to William's mind as the procedure was carried out; the one in the middle is an account of his reactions to the various drugs, medications, and substances he was subjected to... and the last is an edited version of that, and William's plans, without anything that should not be in a formal report."Sherlock raised a careful brow."Sherly, I swear to you on everything about our mother, that I didn't look into the first book once, but at some point... when it was getting harder for William to recall his identity, his mind was in such disarray that he was erratically writing his thoughts down in both notebooks. The version I edited... was to spare you from reading everything he was thinking about a second time when you conduct the research that I know you will be doing in the future."Sherlock swallowed as he reached for the first book with fearful hands, and he flipped to a random page. It was full of Liam's beautiful handwriting... but the words on the page only described how Liam believed that everything that had happened to Sherlock had been his fault, and that "this" was what he deserved.Flipping to another page revealed the almost exact same sentiments.Again and again.
"I should have died."
"I should have never spoken to Mr. Holmes."
"Why am I only able to hurt people?"
"This is all my fault."
"This is for the best. It's what I deserve as a devil."
Sherlock's heart sank.It was only a glimpse, but Liam had been so full of despair... and Sherlock dreaded reading the other book. Mycroft's kindness... undoubtedly was a mercy if this was also in Liam's reports..."Seeing you hurt... that broke him, Sherly. So William resolved that he would never hurt anyone by his own will ever again..." Mycroft's voice sounded so distant. Like Sherlock's own self was trying to push it away. "And it was precisely a year ago that he sliced the tendons of his own legs. I still don't know how he managed to do that given the surveillance he had been under then.""Please... please, stop, Mycky." Stop what, Sherlock didn't know. The talking. His failure. His powerlessness. His sin of breaking Liam. The pain he was feeling now. He couldn't even put a stop to it himself. Not when knowing Liam was like this."If there's any consolation... I had everything stopped once I could confirm that William couldn't remember why he was doing this... and while the procedure he was undergoing is technically still in progress because of that, I... don't think it's likely that the effects will ever reverse."Mycroft then stood up. Obviously, knowing that Sherlock needed to be alone with Liam. "I'll have people bring food and other necessities to this room for you later so you can stay with him. Also, William hasn't been able to stomach solid food for the last few months or use his arms properly, so...""I know, Mycky. I get it... thanks." His brother didn't need to finish that thought. Because he wasn't going to let anyone near Liam... though the reminder of how famished Sherlock felt really meant nothing since he knew that he wasn't going to keel over because of an empty stomach... "Once you've recovered... I'll give you my permission to take William with you, provided you go to an isolated location and William continues his work for the Government, as his care is his compensation... but if you want to do that... you'll need to be able to support yourself and more."Sherlock forced himself to nod since he understood that implication before Mycroft left the room and closed the door, leaving Sherlock behind in silence.It didn't take a genius to know what Sherlock wanted to do now. Liam had used himself as a human test subject to destroy the Lord of Crime... and if Sherlock was to have even a chance of undoing that damage, he would need money and access to resources, drugs, and other controlled substances that he wouldn't be able to easily obtain as a civilian detective.Sherlock let out a hollow laugh. "Atoning together" was something he had said to Liam on the bridge... and now they had no choice but to work for the Government together. Just as he had no choice but to treat Liam as his own personal lab rat. Not if he were to ever see Liam genuinely smile again... The harshness of his new reality was a depressing reminder of what Sherlock had to do as he started to read through what Mycroft had left him. He had to start somewhere if he wanted to get a better grasp of Liam's current condition... but even though Sherlock had honestly tried reading the first book that had been left to him, since he had to stop after reading about how upset Liam had been when Mycroft rejected castration, having his tongue cut out, the loss of his other eye, having his throat cut, having the ligaments in his arms severed, the soles of his feet burned off, having his fingers and toes cut off, and having his head shaved and then burned and sealed in an iron mask as punishment for what he had done... Sherlock instead tried looking through the medical records on Liam's condition first.Tried... being the imperative word since even though Mycroft had done his best to reject what would have likely cut away at Liam's life, Liam had pushed for himself to be punished in other ways that included being beaten, catheterized, having his back branded with the coat of arms of the British Empire so that he would have a permanent reminder of his status as an object that did not deserve any human dignity and was to be thought of nothing but property, having the manacle on his leg welded shut, and being made addicted to drugs so that he wouldn't even be able to think of escaping from the hell he had crawled into... and Sherlock could barely contain himself after reading about what had done to Liam. That was even before he could finish reading about how Liam would never be able to physically walk ever again - would never be able to stand at Sherlock's side again, and how Liam no longer remembered anyone or anything from before... including Louis, Albert, and Fred...And naturally, Liam did not remember one Sherlock Holmes, or their precious time together. Eventually, since Mycroft had sent people to deliver food, along with a large assortment of supplies, comforts, and necessities, Sherlock had to stop reading to eat and help Liam eat... not that the two of them could handle anything solid for a while, which led to them consuming an almost tasteless soup. However, this brief pause away from learning about Liam's suffering hadn't granted Sherlock even the slightest reprieve from the situation, as Liam wouldn't do anything of his own volition.He simply couldn't.Outside of his natural unconscious biological reactions, including reacting to pain, Liam would only act after being ordered or questioned, which meant that despite how Liam had no difficulties with ingesting liquids, he had to be ordered to do so... as he also no longer had any sense of self-preservation. Or at least, that was according to the results of an experiment that had been conducted to determine how thorough Liam's conditioning was, though Sherlock would never be able to bring himself to have such an experiment repeated...A long and helpless sigh escaped Sherlock's lips when he finally finished reading Liam's medical records. He honestly wanted to burn what he had read, but those papers were a precious resource that documented how much of each substance Liam prescribed for himself and the changes they had on Liam's psyche, and while Sherlock would admit that the sheer volume of drugs and medication Liam had taken would likely have affected any person's mind, Sherlock hoped that this would at least give him somewhere to start in coming up with a treatment plan to reverse their effects.Something to work with that would make him think he could do something... anything, really, to bring his Liam back to him... because he couldn't not hope for a day where Liam called Sherlock's name, by his own will again. Because as cruel as hope was, Sherlock had no alternative... and he could not simply let himself stop himself from hoping given the terror he envisioned in the future with the current Liam at his side. "Liam..." Seeing how hollow and lifeless eyes turned towards him almost automatically, Sherlock wasn’t able to stop the tears of frustration that were now falling down his face. Every injury that had befallen Liam was evidence of his crime of hurting him... but as much as Sherlock wanted to examine the full extent of what had been done to Liam, it would have to wait because of how physically and mentally exhausted he was feeling.He was going to care for Liam... so Sherlock couldn't afford to disregard himself in any way. Not when he knew that doing anything that could make him collapse would result in Liam literally doing nothing until someone else checked on him, regardless if he passed out... because Liam was now incapable of doing anything on his own. He wouldn't do anything if he was left in his own waste for days, and wouldn't even feed himself if he was starving... and even now, Sherlock knew that without Mycroft, he would never have been able to bring himself into ordering Liam to recognize his own name... just as Sherlock knew that he would never be able to bring himself into ordering Liam to smile.He wanted his Liam... and not a puppet that emulated him."I'm... going to get things ready for bed." Sherlock had no idea about what was the appropriate way someone who had sustained the injuries Liam had was supposed to lie down without accidently causing further harm to said wounds, but a part of Sherlock just wanted to hold Liam close, even in his dreams... because there would be nothing to comfort him in the way he was with Liam now, and Sherlock would have to die before he stopped thinking about however he could make things up to Liam.At the very least, the self-imposed task of dragging the assorted sheets, blankets, and pillows to the bed so that Liam could lie down somewhat comfortably provided something else Sherlock could do for Liam... that didn’t involve him wanting to throw up his insides.Which was especially important since it also saved him from looking at anything else in this room that had become hell. Mycky really had been right about what a failure Sherlock was... because some "great detective" he was. He had completely missed the medical restraints attached to the bed.How the room had been seemingly child-proofed.The cushioning on the edges of all the furniture.How the toilet and bathtub in a corner of the room had nothing to hinder anyone viewing their users, and the handles that were positioned near them.The way the book at the desk Liam had been at earlier, was literally nailed down to it, and how the pen attached to it was also chained to the same contraption...When Sherlock finished his preparations, which included the removal of the medical restraints that he had thrown across the room, he solemnly kneeled before Liam. The manacle Liam was wearing couldn't be taken off, at least not without the extreme likelihood of cutting Liam's leg, but the chain locked to it could at least be removed, so after getting rid of that blasted shackle, Sherlock carefully ran his hand against Liam's bandages.Unlike a bird with clipped wings, Liam's legs, which, according to the records, had technically healed, would never regain what they had lost... and there was only one person in Sherlock's mind who could be blamed for Liam's current condition. Only one person who was responsible for Liam's new situation.Liam's so-called true friend."I'm sorry, Liam. I'm so sorry... if I knew this was what would happen... I shouldn't have told you to live..." Liam was certainly alive, but all that was left of him was the shell of a person who had trapped himself in a cage of his own making... all because Sherlock had been the one to tell Liam not to die. The singular wish and demand from Sherlock that Liam had committed himself into still obeying, despite everything.It might have been minutes, or it could have been hours, but when Sherlock finally found the strength to pull his hand away from Liam's delicate legs, idly noting that possibly violating Liam's body might result in him showing some semblance of genuine emotion that hadn't been sealed away, though Sherlock knew that he wouldn't do anything while Liam was still a physical wreck, he slowly pushed Liam to the bedside before painstakingly transferring Liam onto the bed. Liam's back was apparently weeks away from healing, so Liam obviously had to be laid down on his stomach, and once he was centred onto the stack of pillows, sheets, and comforters Sherlock had set up, he crawled into bed and got beneath Liam as best he could before then adjusting some of the blankets Liam's legs were resting on as an extra precaution. The positioning was hardly comfortable, but Sherlock could care less. He was never going to let Liam go ever again... and while that did mean Sherlock was going to take all the appropriate steps he could think of to make sure that didn't do anything else to add to Liam's suffering, it didn't help knowing that he had a prime example to show how his intentions did not matter... and he did not want to ponder over hypotheticals.It would be a lesson in futility to do so since Sherlock badly wanted to question how he might have saved Liam if he had done something differently... or stopped him from stepping onto that damned bridge.Sherlock sobbed. "Liam... please go to sleep. Sleep... and dream about anything but this." He took Liam's hand to hold it against his face and tried to ignore the evidence of how Liam had sliced at his left inner wrist several times. Exactly where Sherlock had grabbed onto Liam for dear life. Perhaps if they really were reborn in the future, Liam would be able to take his hand one day, just like he had wanted to... but until that happened, Sherlock would spend every minute that remained of his life trying to reverse the effects of the cruelty he had inflicted on the one person he didn't ever want to hurt, and he knew that from now on... he would be repeating this process of holding Liam like this every day, until the day he died.Sherlock closed his eyes after seeing Liam do the same. The lighting in the room was something Sherlock couldn't do anything about for the time being, though he was going to rectify that later. It had been set to turn on and off at specified times as a snall part of Liam's regimen to condition himself into becoming less than a person, and was something that whomever had been surveilling Liam had overlooked as a potential generator of further health issues or just hadn't cared to do anything about since Liam was the former Lord of Crime... and as he felt his thoughts drifting off, Sherlock had to wonder.Liam was definitely still alive and breathing, and at Sherlock's side, even if he was anything but alive... that was what mattered, right? Sherlock did not know if he could bring himself into agreeing with that statement.Not anymore.