Written for the LiveJournal community Watsons_Woes for their July Writing Prompts challenge. Amnesty prompt 01 was: The Perils of Pauline: Use an over-the-top peril or cliffhanger.
Part of my Spencer-verse (primarily canon with a few details borrowed from the Granada TV series-in this case, I've borrowed the fact that Watson worked with the police while Holmes was away). Follows "Unpleasant Discovery".
_Abduction_
The grey light of dawn was shyly peeking in the windows as I made my slow way downstairs. I had already been awake for some time and decided I might as well get up, but it was early enough that even Spencer simply rolled over and went back to sleep when I made the bed around him.
I had evidently done enough resting in the last few days when I was abed with a bad cold and despite the hour could not continue sleeping. I was not yet back to my usual health, but felt well enough to venture down to the sitting room.
I came to an abrupt halt as I entered the room and was greeted by the sound of a gun cocking. "Good morning, Doctor Watson," a familiar voice said, and a man rose from the chair at my desk. A lone candle on the desk revealed he'd been going through my box of threatening letters. "I see you've been keeping my correspondence. I hope you won't mind that I took the liberty of burning them. No need to have them lying about now."
I decided not to tell him that Scotland Yard had copies, at Holmes' insistence. I kept my voice as calm as I could as I said, "Hello, Henry. I see you found my address."
He had sent a letter directly to Baker Street yesterday; the previous messages had been sent to me in care of Scotland Yard. Holmes knew what it was without opening it and had given it to me with a grim expression. The letter said only, "I am coming for you," and was, in fact, in my pocket at that very moment. I had brought it down with the intent of keeping it with its fellows.
Henry came toward me as I hesitated in the doorway, frantically trying to think of how to disarm him or alert the household of my danger. Simply shooting him would have been easiest, had my revolver not been in my desk. But my mind felt full of cotton and I did not even have my cane to defend myself.
"We'll be having none of that, now," Henry said, leveling his gun at my face as he roughly grabbed my arm. "Any sudden noises or movements and I'll have to shoot you, and I would be very upset if I had to abandon my plans by killing you prematurely."
He said it so pleasantly that a shudder went down my spine. He started pushing me toward the front door, guiding me as if I were blind, and I did not resist. He was taller than me, younger than me, and in much better shape; he reminded me of myself in my rugby-playing days. In my present condition, I was no match for him.
But as he pushed me out the door, I let the letter slip from my pocket and fervently hoped that Holmes would find and understand the clue.