bakerstreet | the captivity meme

THE CAPTIVITY MEME

You've been captured -- or maybe you've been held captive for a while now. Whatever the case, you've lost your freedom, and there's a specific person responsible for that. You might be a prisoner, a mental patient, a kidnap victim, or someone's pet. Maybe you're there willingly, or maybe the choice has been taken away from you completely.

Both smut and non-smut scenarios are possible. If you don't want to play smut, please indicate so in the title line of your tag.

1. Leave a tag with your character. Be sure to include any limits on what you are willing to play, as this meme has the potential to be triggering.

2. Someone else tags in and uses RNG to generate a number between 1 and 9. The second character is holding the first character captive now.

3. ???

4. Profit!

Scenarios

1. For their own good. Does this person really think they could make it on their own? It's a big, scary world out there, and you need to protect them from it, whether they like it or not.

2. For the good of society. Forget protecting this person -- it's your duty to protect the world from them! Maybe they committed a terrible crime, or maybe they were falsely condemned, but it's your job to keep them locked up where they can't do any more harm.

3. Because they're not well. How's your bedside manner? Whether you're Florence Nightingale or Mildred Ratched, you're in the position of ministering to the mentally ill. Maybe this person genuinely needs your help, or maybe you're just turning a blind eye to their true sanity.

4. For the money. Higher aims? What higher aims? This person is your meal ticket, and they're staying put until their loved ones pay up.

5. For their love. It might be a case of yandere, or it might be a consenting BDSM relationship. Whether it's by mutual agreement or by force, you're keeping them simply because you love them.

6. Because they're cute and fluffy. Who's a cutesy wutesy? They are! Yes, they are! This person is your pet now. Maybe they're a different species from you, or maybe you just don't care that you're both people. Maybe you're even an alien zookeeper looking after a new acquisition.

7. Because they're your property. Slave? Livestock? Who cares what they think - they're your property, and you decide their fate.

8. For the lulz. Hey, what's a little bondage between friends? You'll let them go, once you're done laughing and snapping photos... maybe.

9. Choose a scenario, or combine several.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[And the look she's giving him right back is one of pure, unadulterated you're-an-idiot. She ignores the demand and rises.]

Maybe when you're sober enough to get far away from here before you start experimenting, Mr. Holmes.

Sober? I'm clearly sober, hence the withdrawal sympt- Where are you going?

[ Wait, she's not leaving him in here, is she? Alone? His back straightens immediately as dread spikes through him with a wave of nausea. She can't leave him here by himself, not in a room so small. The walls feel crushingly close already. There's more panic in his voice than he would normally allow. ]

No, you can't-

[ But then he gets ahold of himself, struggling against the irrational fear creeping over him to press back into the wall with a choke of breath and a look that's likely an attempt at defiance that fails rather miserably given how pale and frightened he appears. Fine, let her go. He doesn't need her. He can deal with this. Hell, maybe it'll give him time to get out of these blasted chains. ]

[She does leave the formerly spacious bathroom, for long enough that it seems as if she's going to actually leave him to rot. It was surprising, how small and close the room could seem after six days.

She leaves long enough to let him stew, to takes a deep breath and steady herself again. Long enough to get a bottle of water and one of those electrolyte rich, fortified sports drinks out of the refrigerator.

The cook had left a week's worth of meals in the refrigerator, but only half of them had been touched.

But she returns, setting the sports drink down on the floor within arm's reach of him. Maybe it's the uncharacteristic, miserable fear she saw on his face, or something else, something deeper, but there's almost a gentleness to her words.

Almost.]

You're dehydrated. And you need food but I expect you'd try to use a fork to pick the lock.

[ It's all he can do not to have another episode while she's gone. Is she truly abandoning him? When will she come back? Will she come back? God, the room feels like it's choking him. Is there enough air? His logical mind says yes but that's scarcely in control now, leaving him at the mercy of his withdrawals. Somehow he'll get through this.

Please, just let him get through this.

By the time the door opens again Sherlock is pale and shaking, looking to be on the edge of another fit of absolute panic. His eyes snap up as she steps in and there's no hiding the total and all-consuming relief in his eyes as it washes over him at the sight of her. He gets himself reined in a moment later, schooling himself into a more stony expression fraught with suspicion. He's both happy to see her and desperate to get away from her at the same time.

Oh, but she's brought him something. That's won her some favor. He follows the bottle to the floor with his eyes as he suddenly becomes very aware of just how parched he is. There's no complaint from him now as he takes the bottle with trembling hands and tries his best to open it. He's too weak; the lid won't budge. ]

Can't say I've tried it with a fork before. That would be a nice change of pace.

[ It comes out sounding a lot weaker than he'd hoped for. Hhe just can't get it open. His hand starts to scrabble at it as desperation sets in. ]

[She watches him struggle with the bottle top for a moment, something like concern in her expression at how his hands tremble.

But she forces that expression off her face before she kneels, closing her hand over his and taking the bottle away just long enough to open it.]

I have. Miserable attempt.

[ All of his focus is on the bottle when she moves, enough so that he doesn't realize how close she is until her hand lays over his own and earns a small start before he simply stares at her with what appears to be confusion. The kindness is clearly unexpected and he feels as though he should balk at it... but he's just too thirsty to properly keep up a front. Once the cap is removed he lifts it to his lips and takes several eager swallows so quickly he nearly chokes, coughing heavily. A considering look is given to the bottle before he sets it down beside him with shaking hands while shifting to lean his forehead into the edge of the tub. ]

Here I'd thought you the type capable of worming out of anything.

[ The exhaustion rolls over him all at once, evident in the slump of his shoulders and the tremors in his breath. When was the last time he slept? It suddenly feels like an eternity ago. He scarcely remembers what it feels like. ]

[Irene is not good at concern. Terrible at it, even. It is part of what made her a spectacular dominatrix, one of the things that still makes her who she is. Cold, cunning, manipulative.

But she has her moments of sentiment, of weakness. And watching him nearly choke stirs some of that concern, behind exasperation. She reaches up to rest a cool hand against his cheek, checking temperature. Her voice is still calm, though it has lost some of its sharp edge.]

I didn't say I never got out of them. Just ended up using something other than a fork.

[ There's no denying how good the cool of her hand feels against his face, particularly in this state. He leans into the press of her skin with a shuddering exhale, his eyes now struggling to stay open as both mind and body find themselves in a sudden struggle to maintain consciousness. Where are they again? Bathroom? Where? It's a mess in here. An experiment gone south again? No matter. Mrs. Hudson will see to cleaning it up. The flat will be spit-spot again as much as it ever can be and he'll have just enough time to put the water on and set the tray before the spider lets himself right in- ]

Yes, well... You are rather good...

[ What were they talking about? Ugh, it doesn't matter. He curls in on himself slightly, chains dragging across the floor as he moves his hands to cradle his battered wrists against his lap. He could just rest for a little bit, right? Only a few minutes. Already his head begins to loll. ]

[She almost breathes a sigh of relief when he begins slipping into sleep, and Irene tries to nudge him into a more stable position despite the fact that he's got almost a foot on her. She tries, at least.

Only when she is convinced he won't spring awake immediately does she let the mask fall, and a hint of genuine worry appears in her expression. Her fingers check his pulse, and she counts time. A few hours. She'll let him sleep for a few hours before she tries to get more liquid into him.

And maybe get those chains off, if he'll actually be sane about things.

Because even she's getting tired of watching him like this.]

the captivity meme

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