John woke to her voice, plaintively singing somewhere outside. Wrong direction - his head jerked towards Sherlock's desk as he skidded to a halt. The laptop! Sherlock's MacBook was singing.
He struck the keyboard seeking visual contact, but Skype wasn't responsible. She'd not responded - a one way connection or a recording?
"Ever so lo-lo-lo-lo-l-lonely! Ever so lo-lo-lonely without you ..." stretching the lonely to several syllables. Mournful, not a Western scale - maybe she was putting her feelings to music she'd heard in captivity. It almost sounded like the Call to Prayer.
There was a choke in her voice as she cried out plaintively, "Get me out, Sherlock!" And then sobbing. When he thought he couldn't listen anymore, she spoke again. "How I miss you ... I'd do anything to be in your arms ... just not what they're asking of me ... forgive me, my love ..."
John closed his eyes at her distress. Then more sobbing, and a definite loud click and silence. It was so loud that John had expected someone who had entered her cell to speak. His eyes shot open. Sherlock was standing over his closed MacBook with a tight expression on his face.
"I'd not wanted you to hear that!" he said tersely.
'No, given it's obvious who she wants,' thought John to himself. 'Bastard!'