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Enjoy your stay

This was a rather dark roleplay but I really enjoyed it! It was a shame that that stranger couldn’t continue! (although if anyone else wants to continue this with me that would be cool ^_^ [email protected])

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like darklock.

You: [Age difference AU/Dark!Lock. John and Sherlock have been speaking for two months, they haven’t met.] J: Guess what? I made the rugby team! (18)

Stranger: S: That's great, John. I knew you would. (30)

You: J: Really? I didn't think I played as well as I could today. I'm happy though!

Stranger: S: You're so talented. I know you'll be brilliant.

You: J: Shame my parents don't think the same. My dad has gone on about nothing but it being a 'waste of valuable study time'.

Stranger: S: Well, he's wrong. You can be in sports and still excel in your studies.

You: J: That's what I've said! You know what he can be like though..

Stranger: S: Just ignore him. He just doesn't understand you.

You: J: Yes. I shall try. My family are going away this weekend anyway, taking Harry to my grandparents, she went off the rails again.

Stranger: S: Oh, will you be home alone then?

You: J: Yes. I quite like the silence really.

Stranger: S: I dunno, I think you could use some company. How about I stop by?

You: J: Really? That would be really nice. Maybe we could watch some films or something? :)

Stranger: Absolutely. I've been anxious to meet you in person, so this should be fun.

You: J: Me too. I think it's something we should have done ages ago.

Stranger: S: Don't tell your parents though, yeah?

You: J: They probably won't even ask. They have Harry to concentrate on.

Stranger: S: I'll come around nine pm.

You: J: That's fine. Did you want anything to eat? Or a preference on film? I'll get it all set up.

You: J: I can't believe this is happening.

Stranger: S: I know I'll like whatever you have. I'm glad you're excited.

You: J: Okay! I'll make us some popcorn :) I am!

Stranger: S: I hope that I am what you expect.

You: J: I hope that I am too.

Stranger: S: I know you will be. See you soon.

You: J: You too.

You: [Paragraphs?]

Stranger: (Yep. Shall I start?)

You: [Sure thing!]

Stranger: Sherlock grinned at his phone. John... his John, they'd meet at last. He first found the kid on a forum, he was ranting and raving about the bad ending to a television show that he himself had never watched. But, after looking into John Watson, specifically his pictures, he began to suddenly be quite invested in the ending of that show he had never watched. He joined the forum, agreed with everything John said, referring to the wiki when needed. From there, they were fast friends. Sherlock said he himself was seventeen, which was a total lie... but oh well, he would have his sweet John soon. Sherlock took a quick cold shower before dressing up. His heart was beating fast. Sherlock drove, all his things in the back. Sherlock walked to John's front door. He knocked.

You: John obviously had no idea about the lies and he couldn't deny that he really liked Sherlock. He was different but he listened, he understood him, whenever he got into fights with his parents (especially his dad), Sherlock would be right there to help him through it. While he had friends, he didn't think any of them were as good as Sherlock. Maybe its because he knew that he wanted to be more then friends with this boy but he didn't quite want to admit that to himself although he was obviously smitten. He set up some popcorn on his bed with his James Bond boxset positioned beside it. He heard the knock on the door and his heart began to race before he rushed down the stairs, he made sure he looked okay before he pulled the door open. But instead of a seventeen year old boy standing there, there stood an much older man and he frowned, not wanting to believe it was Sherlock.

Stranger: "John!" He said, expression lighting up, "oh, wow, you look... really fantastic." John still had some dried sweat from the rugby tryout, making his hair a mess. Sherlock loved to see his hair like this. Some of his favorite pictures of him were with his hair a total mess. He saw John's confusion and cleared his throat. "Heh, I guess you're a bit shocked. I'm not actually seventeen. But, I knew you wouldn't talk to me if I said I was older. But, it's all okay now. I'm still the same man that knows all your secrets about your dad, your family, that wild night you had with Sarah." He leaned himself closer into the home, looking behind John, taking a deep breath. John smelled good. Despite the sweat. Or maybe it was the sweat. Either way, Sherlock loved it. "May I come in?"

Stranger: ((did that send?))

You: The shock and confusion was still evident on his face and he knew it, instantly trying to look calm as he listened to him and then nodded slowly. "I suppose I wouldn't have." He muttered and then managed a small smile towards Sherlock but his head was thinking one hundred things and most of them included making sure that Sherlock didn't come in but yet, he found his heart still racing for the man that clearly cared about him. He wouldn't have stayed up to talk to him or know about everything. He trusted him in this weird way that John knew was a risk. One he decided that he could take. "Yes, sure. Sorry." He mumbled and let Sherlock walk in before he moved to shut the door behind him.

You: [It did indeed!]

Stranger: Sherlock grinned as he was let in. "Thank you, love." He looked around John's home, all the while, his camera phone concealed. He was sure to take a lot of pictures of his home. The hall, the lights, and he nearly died at the sight of a family picture hanging on the wall. Sherlock looked at it... John Watson, just a little boy. How Sherlock wished he could have known him then as well. He seemed to delicate. Sherlock wanted to just take the whole frame, but he decided a hidden photo would have to suffice. Sherlock looked back at John as he walked in, unable to stop smiling. John accepted him. Perfect John, of course he would. "I'm really excited. What film did you pick?"

You: John blushed a little at the small pet name, it just made him feel special already and his heart swelled with the feelings that he felt bubbling for Sherlock although they seemed unrealistic more now then ever, Sherlock was older then him which meant that he wouldn't be interested at all. Why would he? He swallowed thickly for a minute before he looked up at Sherlock again. "Oh, I thought we could watch some James Bond ones. They're my favourite, you probably know that right? I speak about it a lot on the forums." He commented and gave an awkward smile. "Is my bedroom okay? I made some popcorn. You can grab yourself a drink of anything you want." He added.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, "your bedroom would be grand." Dear lord, John's bedroom. The scent of his sheets, the slight clutter, everything... intoxication, pure intoxication in his obsession with this boy. Sherlock swept into the kitchen. "I will get something to drink. Do go ahead, I can find my way." Sherlock waited for John to leave. He knew for a fact that his family put pictures and other things on the fridge. He knew because John would complain that it was embarrassing. Not for Sherlock. For him, it was a gold mine. He plucked away pictures, from events, from award ceremonies, anything with John. He even took a test which got an A, back from when John was a kid. All stuffed in his satchel that he brought. Only then did he grab two bottles of juice before quickly making his way to John.

You: "Great. Thank you." John smiled before he headed up the stairs and into his bedroom, he got the DVD out and slipped it into the DVD player and got that set up before he checked his phone. A few texts from friends and one from his mother, he replied back before he moved to put his phone on the desk to place it on charge before he got back onto the bed and waited for Sherlock. He felt so incredibly nervous and he only hoped that it would ease as the hours went by. The film would hopefully relax him too, he was more comfortable would he found something more interesting. He could talk about the film and he wouldn't feel so awkward. He hoped at least.

Stranger: Sherlock hesitated only a second before coming to John's room. So close. Months of work, grooming John into a state of comfort, admiration, and isolation. It was all a matter of time and now it was happening. He touched John's door. Cheap material, but he loved it. Sherlock pushed it open, trying not to gasp at John's room. Navy blue walls, posters of sports teams and some bands, old clothes shoved into the corner, and the light scent of popcorn in the air. Sherlock could spend the whole day in here, on John's small bed, just breathing it in. Sherlock put on a charming smile and handed John a now very special juice. Sherlock wasn't going to let this night end with a movie. "I love your room," he commented, knowing just how to stroke his boy to make him purr.

You: John looked up when Sherlock finally walked in and watched as his eyes glanced around the room, it was probably a little bit messy and he should have cleaned a bit more but it was the best that he could do. He wasn't the tidiest of all people. He smiled then at the compliment before he took the juice from Sherlock, blushing a little again. "Oh, thank you. I thought it might have been a bit messy." He spoke softly and shrugged as he moved up to edge of the bed to allow for Sherlock to get beside him. His bed wasn't exactly very big so he hoped they could both fit. He sipped at the juice before he hit the play button on the remote, keeping it at a fairly low volume so they could still talk if they needed to.

You: [Just need to BRB for 10-15 minutes, hope that's okay!]

Stranger: Above all else, Sherlock treasured John's innocence. He was so desperate for attention that he pushed back his logical mind, that letting in a man that claimed to be seventeen would be fine. He believed that Sherlock hadn't been playing him like a harp, all those times, agreeing with him, demonizing his parents, doing everything he could to make himself the priority. It was adorable. And now, Sherlock was so close to him. He wanted to kiss him, feel his delicate skin without these pesky clothes... but, not now. Sherlock wasn't to preserve his innocence. True, he had his way with some girls, but never with a man. And Sherlock wanted to preserve this honor. He placed his arm over John's shoulder, "you're everything I pictured, John."

You: Again, John blushed. He couldn't imagine being good enough for Sherlock, not at all. He smiled though and looked up at him. True, he had done things with girls but he had never felt this way towards anyone before. The way that his heart fluttered in his chest and made him feel full with excitement. He loved the feeling and he never wanted it to fade. "You too. I mean that, you're wonderful." Even with the small lie the other man had told. He glanced at the TV for a bit and watched the film before he bit his lip. "How old are you really, Sherlock? If you don't mind me asking." He didn't want to be rude and offend him but he couldn't help but be curious about the age gap between them both,

Stranger: Sherlock debated for a moment. He could lie, say something like twenty or twenty five. But, since John would be nice and drugged from that juice soon, it really didn't matter. Besides, he wanted to push how far John's innocent devotion would go. "I'm thirty," he said, confident. Beating around the bush would make it more creepy, the way he saw it. To create a bandwagon affect was the best way to go, get John to agree. "You're already past sixteen, love. You're of age. Besides, my parents had a large age gap. They were very much in love." That was a lie. His parent's age gap was only two years. Wrap the truth in some convincing lies, see what happens. "I'm experienced," he said, taking a sip of his own undrugged juice.

You: John blinked at him then. Thirty, that was rather old. More than a ten year age gap. That was slightly weird to think about but then, it was Sherlock and he trusted him. He liked the way that he treated him. And then he said that word again 'love' and it was like he was won over all over again and a small laugh left his lips as he grabbed a piece of popcorn and chewed it before he spoke. "Yes. I suppose lots of people have big age gaps. It's only a number though right?" He said and then smiled, his parents would absolutely kill him. Even his own mother was just turning thirty, another weird thought, he pushed that one away and took a large gulp of his drink. "I suppose that is a good thing." He mumbled and laughed, leaning into Sherlock a little more.

Stranger: He turned out the movie. He was never a fan of this one, but for John, he liked it. After all, he thought half of John's interest were utter garbage, but pretended to like those two. At this point, it was hard to tell where the lies ended and the truth began. For now, he treasured this moment, this right here. It was domestic bliss at it's core and he savored it. Still, it wasn't his scene. He didn't want to be John's good friend or even his boyfriend. Sherlock wanted to be John's keeper. And after tonight, if he was lucky, John would never come back to this place again. Just had to wait for John to get dopey and sleepy, then to commence his 'rescue plan'. Sherlock breathed in John's scent again, "darling," he whispered, voice deep and low.

You: As the movie continued, John drank his drink until it was finished and he put the glass on the side, it was only until the almost end of the film that he began to feel sleepy. Not like a tired sleepy but more drowsy, a feeling he had never really felt before. He tried to sit up a bit but his body seemed weak and he could barely even manage to move from how sleepy he felt, so he just remained there with his eyes almost falling shut before Sherlock spoke to him and he looked over at the other. "Mm?" He mumbled and reached a hand up to wipe at his eye a bit, trying to wake up but he couldn't seem to and he didn't understand why. "Sleepy.." He muttered then.

Stranger: Showtime then, "oh, I know. It's alright. Sherlock knows just what to do, just listen to Sherlock." Sherlock reached into his bag. He had contemplated how to tie him before coming. Rope was always classic, but even while drowsy, John may struggle, making the knots difficult to tie. He would love to see his boy in handcuffs, but really that would just mark up his wrists. So, he went for the classic, cheapest one, duct tape. He slipped it out of his bag and took John's wrists in his hand. "You don't look so good, John," he mused as the loud stretching of the tape sounded like glass shattering in silence. Sherlock taped his wrists tight then went to his ankles. "You okay, baby? Need a nap?"

You: John was barely aware of what was going on, his mind was just worlds away and his whole body felt heavy. "Don't feel so good.." He mumbled back in a voice that was becoming more and more slurred, his eyes falling shut and then only opening when he heard the sound of the tape and he froze, not sure what it was until he felt the tape around his wrists and he let out a small noise of distress. "Sherlock.. What? What are you.. doing?" He managed to get out but it was slow and slurred and not as enthusiastic as it sounded in his head, he tried to move away but he couldn't, the only result being the bowl of popcorn falling over from the space it was and tumbling over the floor as Sherlock moved down to his ankles and his eyes fell shut again in defeat, despite his panic that was growing in his chest.

Stranger: "I always dreamed of watching you sleep," Sherlock said, tone less charming now and dipping dangerously into excited obsession. "I... photoshopped some pictures of you to make it look like it, but it doesn't beat the real thing." He finished with his ankles and took a step back to admire the handy work. He slipped out his camera phone, this time to take not so secret photos. First, of John. He took several, from several angles, sometimes moving his arm one way or slipping his shirt up for some added 'drama'. Sherlock took a few of John's clothes as well. Not for John, but just to have, as keepsake. "Okay, let's go." He lifted John up. He was challenging to carry while John was so limp, but Sherlock was careful.

You: The words registered in his mind but yet he couldn't find the words to reply, or even speak at all right now, his mouth felt dry and he was scared. He was so frightened. The way that the tone in Sherlock's voice changed was something that he didn't like at all. He laid there as he heard the noises of the camera going but he couldn't move, he was restrained and weak. Being frightened wouldn't help him but John couldn't think of being anything else but that. He felt the other pick him up then and he let out a grumble of protest but it clearly went unheard.. He didn't want to go, he wanted to stay at home, he wanted his parents back to save him. How had this gone so wrong? What was Sherlock even playing at?

Stranger: Sherlock escorted John outside and into the back of his car, closing the door gently behind him. The next part...was going to be cruel. A vicious act, callous and petty. Sherlock took out his lighter, twirling it between his fingers. He strummed his fingers against the window of his car to wake John, just for this moment. He wanted John to see this. Sherlock took his lighter and walked painfully slow back to John's house, looking over the garden. With one last wink towards John's direction, Sherlock lit the garden on fire. It quickly spread. Sherlock ran back to his car, not even allowing a moment to admire the fire. Time to go. He slammed his foot onto the accelerator. They were off.

You: John felt himself being placed in the back of the car, his eyes shutting once again, he was sure he had only opened them once on the way down. He was just about falling asleep when he heard the sound against the window and he opened his eyes, just to see the lighter in his hand and watched as he walked towards his house, his heart raced and his breathing got more thicker and sharper. He watched as the garden burst into flames and he wanted to scream but no words came out of his mouth, not a single noise as his head rested back against the seat and his eyes fell shut completely now as everything faded to black. The image of the fire the last thing on his mind.

Stranger: Sherlock's home was not a pleasant one. It was on the edge of London, in the basement. He had bought it a few years ago for purposes like these. Though what came before John, he'd like to keep classified. He had the expansive basement sectioned off into several rooms, making it labyrinth like. He had put his life savings into this place and for him, it payed off beautifully. Sherlock had a room set up for John already. It concrete in the ceiling, floor, and walls, but painted blue. John's favorite color. It had a bed. It had a camera in the corner. Sherlock dropped him off as he came home, sure to lock the three locks attached to the door. Since he had taken off John's tape, he was sure the boy would be fine.

You: John didn't remember a second of the journey, he didn't even really know when he got here, all he knew is the next time that he woke up, he was laid on a bed in a room pained in almost the same colour as his bedroom but it wasn't his bedroom. He blinked groggily and tried to sit up but his body was still coming around, so he laid there and stared at the wall. He didn't know where Sherlock was but he didn't really care much, he was scared of the man coming back. Eventually, he called out the man's name, several times in a rather panicked voice before he thought of the fire and he sat up. "Sherlock?" He called again and then took in a deep breathe but there were tears in his eyes, they slowly began to drip down his face as he began to realise what was happening.

Stranger: Sherlock had a 'command' center of sorts. It linked to John's room. He could see what he was doing from the camera, but also kept an eye on the hallways. His office, even with the light of screens, was dark, empty except for all of John's pictures all over the walls. "Hello, John," he said, into the intercom linked to John's room. "You are being recorded. If you are going to cry, do look into the camera. I have no pictures of you crying." Besides, it was a live feed on the internet. Private, smothered in coding, but anyone like Sherlock would be able to see it. "Look under your bed. I left you a little friend." It was a stuffed bear.

You: The voice of Sherlock made him shudder, right to the core and he turned his head around and spotted the camera before he looked away, he was so scared of what Sherlock was capable of and he had no understand of what was going on. "Let me out, Sherlock. This isn't funny. I want to go home.. Please.." He whispered softly and took in a deep breathe before he frowned and looked under the bed, seeing the bear and he picked it up, staring at it for a minute before he threw it across the room. "I don't want your presents. I don't want to be here. Why are you doing this to me? Please just tell me why!" He shouted then, turning to look at the camera as a fresh set of tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt like a child but this was caused simply by fear.

Stranger: "Because I love you, John," he said, a tremble in his voice. And this was more or less what he did. He would fall in love with boys online, take them away to this room, then break them down. All while the scum of the Earth watched it from the comfort of their homes. He had done it time and time again and he wasn't going to lose steam any time soon. By the time this was over, John would cling to that bear like it was his best friend. They always did. "You will receive three meals a day. There is an adjoining bathroom through the door to your left... enjoy your stay." Sherlock smirked as the comments on his site began to stack up. Pretty positive feedback, they all liked John. 'love the blondie', 'cutie', 'crying boy!' Sherlock ignored comments like 'make him bleed'. He was above those.

You: "Your version of love is messed up." John mumbled and then swallowed thickly as he curled up against the white sheets of his bed, slipping into them and pulling the covers over him. He didn't even know what was going to happen to him, maybe that was what worried him the most, the fear of the unknown. As Sherlock told him about the three meals, he felt somewhat glad that he would be getting fed which meant that Sherlock wanted him alive. That had to be a positive, but he wondered just how long it would take for him to wish he was rather dead. He laid there and thought about his parents, it would take them two days to come back home, unless the neighbors called them first to alert them about the fire, would they think he was dead? Or would they know he was missing and look for him? He didn't know but the thought made him cry more.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded at the screen. Yes, this would go well. He would be a big hit, maybe the most popular on the site. The people that watched Sherlock's live feed ranged from violent maniacs to the common lonely freak. Oddly enough, some just liked to watch John do nothing at all, it gave them company. Others jerked off to the sound of him crying, but hey, Sherlock just made content. He let the viewers do what they liked. If they got too close to him, he'd block them from his site. As for now, Sherlock had a great program for John. Just dropping different things into his room. It would range from books to vibrating toys. Dear, this would be fun. He went to go prepare John's breakfast. Then again, since he wanted to keep John disoriented, none of it would be breakfast food. It began.

You: Eventually, John crawled out from his bed and walked into the bathroom, grabbing some tissues to wipe his tears away before he noticed the small camera positioned in the corner of the bathroom too. Sick. He had absolutely no privacy, it felt horrible to know that Sherlock would be able to watch him no matter what he did. Whether it was sleeping, eating or even using the toilet. He frowned before he put the tissue in the toilet and flushed before he walked to sit down on the bed and stared at the door. He was rather bored already and he hoped that food was soon because it would be something to do, anything would be nice right now. He stood up then and picked up the bear, taking it back to his bed and just sat staring at it.

Stranger: Sherlock made John a sandwich. It was bland, plain, and had some cheap ingredients, but it was food. Just as well, a cup of milk. Sherlock got lots of requests from his viewers when it came to food choice. Anything phallic was often suggested, and sometimes he would drop in a banana or sausage. But, he found it childish to make that a repeat. Only if a vast majority of viewers wanted it. Sometimes they suggested things inedible or bodily fluids. Really, Sherlock only did that once to a boy and while amusing, just didn't fit the tone of the show he was creating. The sandwich was a sort of honorary food, given to all boys on their first day. The milk? Well, Sherlock's viewers had a thing for white liquids. Sherlock slid the food and drink under the door through a smaller latch.

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