Sherlock awoke to a faint beeping, opening his eyes slowly with no difference to the darkness. From what he could tell, he was wearing a blindfold.

Pushing himself up from the cool concrete floor he raised his hand feeling the blindfold. It was made of metal, bound together by straps and buckles that were all locked together.

In attempt to figure out where he was he felt his way to the damp, peeling wall. There weren't any possible clues that would give away where he was.

Nothing.

Sherlock made his way to the other side of the room where the beeping noise was. The beeping was coming from a steel door. He grabbed the handle and attempted to open the door, with no such luck.

"Damn!" he exclaimed smashing his fist on the door, "Of course he would get me. Of course it was a trap."

'Dare to play, Sherlock Holmes'

Those words echoing in his mind, mocking him constantly.

Moments later there was a static noise causing his blind attention to be drawn to the left. A deep male voice began speaking:

'Hello Sherlock Holmes. It was nice of you to come out and play. I trust that you are wondering where you are, but that is not important. The only thing that is important here is salvation. Up until now you have used your eyes to observe the world, only taking in what you deem as important. Due to your nature, you are blind to what is really important. I assure you, the blindfold you wear is perfectly harmless. Just think of it as a symbol. Your obsessions drive the people who care away from you and have brought you to me. As for Dr. John Watson, -the most loyal of all- the moment he walked out that door he was taken into my care.'

There was another sound of static before Sherlock could hear John shouting:

'Hello? Is anyone there! Where am I?'

There was a short scream, the sound of John struggling. Sherlock flinched at the sound of John's voice. Through the entire time of knowing one another he had never heard John sound so scared, so vulnerable.

"John" Sherlock choked out as he slid down the door.

'Oh God. Am I going to die here? Oh, oh Sherlock. I'm so sorry…'

Sherlock rested his forehead to the steel door. "Oh John" Sherlock managed, "You were right. I'm so sorry."

There was more static signaling back to Jigsaw as he continued:

'You will see John again, if you can win the game. By now, I expect you would have found the steel door. If you follow the corridors, you will be faced with four challenges. In each challenge you will find a key to the locks on the blindfold. You have one hour'

A click came at the door. Sherlock reached his hand up grabbing the handle again. He slowly stood, opening the door.

'Tell me Sherlock, can you see in the dark? Let the game begin.'

John awoke in a darkened room, lit dimly by the single light above him. His hands and ankles were bound to the wooden seat.

He screamed, shaking his arms and legs in attempt to release the restraints. A few moments passed and he realized that wasn't going to work.

In an attempt to figure out where he was he looked around the dimly lit room.

The walls were rotten and dark, no windows with two steel doors. One in front of him, and the other behind. Above the door was a digital clock.

01:00:00

Just off to the left of him there was a television set. Next to it, a small table with a few surgical tools, scans and a tape.

"Hello? Is anyone there! Where am I?"

He screamed again, struggling to move his bound hands. He didn't need to ask what was happened. He knew already. Of course he knew it was one of Jigsaw's games. How could it be anything else?

"Oh God. Am I going to die here? Oh, oh Sherlock. I'm so sorry."

The television flickered on showing a creepy doll on a tricycle. It slowly turned it's head towards the camera.

'Hello Dr. Watson. Make no attempt in escaping. The bounds you wear are locked in place. Only, where is the key? Right now another game is at play. Sherlock Holmes is three steps away from making his way to you. You're only hope is he can make it to you in time.'

The television flickered to a video feed of Sherlock standing at the door slowly opening it. John narrowed his eyes as Sherlock turned his head to the left then back away. Was he… Blindfolded?

John glanced back up the clock that was now ticking as the television flickered off.