221B, the quiet (not), peaceful (not), clean (not), home of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Here could be found many treasures amidst all the clutter that cloaked the flat like a shadow, looming about threatening all who aren't careful with an avalanche of books, skulls and other miscellaneous items Sherlock had procured throughout the years.
Today actually started quietly as John went out to go shopping. Sherlock just sat in his chair reading the paper. While John had a row with a chip-and-pin machine, Sherlock's past came back to bite him on the behind as a man came in with a sword and attacked him.
Once the fight was over and the attacker was thoroughly taken care of, his only thought was, "John shall not be pleased."...
A few months pre-John had Sherlock in Karachi, Pakistan within the hands of Terrorists. They wanted him on their side. He would be a powerful ally, after all: his brother, Mycroft Holmes, IS the British Government, he is also tied in with Scotland Yard, he is also very smart they could have him build a bomb to use as they wish, when they were through with him they could ransom him for money because of the Holmes' fabulous wealth. Sherlock only let them kidnap because he was incredibly bored at the time, this was an adventure for him.
As they pulled the burlap sack off his face, Sherlock absorbed all he could gather on his surroundings. It was desert-y, so Middle East. It was blisteringly hot, so once again, pointing to desert-like climate. It was also salty it could be sand but it more pointed to a sea, So he was close to either the Arabian Sea or the Persian Gulf. Too salty for the Persian Gulf, so Arabian Sea. The distant sound of cars told Sherlock that he was near a highway, or perhaps city, or perhaps both. He took a breath, too much exhaust for a highway so city with highway nearby. It was about noon-ish here, wherever here is exactly, as the sun boiled the compound and it's inhabitants.
"Ah..." a male voice called to him. Sherlock looked to him. Around 5'9 with coppery skin this man wouldn't be chilling in the least, with his scrawny-ness, but with an eye-patch on his left eye he looked slightly more formidable. This man was obviously rich and powerful by the way he carried himself, clothing, teeth, etc., and has a large pride to go with his fortune. He had recently lost something that he was still brooding over, a person most-likely. The man was putting up a facade but Sherlock saw right through it.
"Mr. Holmes, I apologize about such a rude way of bringing you here, but I do not have to many other opportunities such like yourself. I personally wanted to make sure that you would come here and listen to a... business proposal..." The man's voice was kind but that too was also a facade. As he mentioned the final words of his monolog an evil gleam came into his eye. Sherlock lifted his eyebrow in response, not even bothered to use words, at the moment. The man then droned on and on about his plans to make himself seem like, well, not a terrorist. Throughout the rest of the speech Sherlock's sharp features changed from curiosity, to plain interest, then annoyance, then pure unadulterated boredom.
Finally Sherlock had enough. "BORING!" It reverberated around the high walls, and stopped the man's soliloquy in its tracks.
"What did you just say to me?" He said as the cold fury crept into his voice, like an icy fog.
"Bor-ring" Sherlock mused with a slight smirk. The man's face contorted in rage as he shouted in the native language of the area to the guards. They then charged Sherlock, one a little faster than his partner. That was a huge mistake. As the guard reached Sherlock with his sword drawn, Sherlock grabbed his wrist, pulled him into a large swinging motion, and then flung the first guard to his companion. They fell back together, dazed and confused. The man stared at Sherlock incredulously. Then he called out in the language again, acting more and more like a spoiled, pompous brat with each breath he took. Sherlock simply walked out the door into the interior of the compound. Whenever guards came into the corridors Sherlock would jump into any nook and cranny that he could fit into.
Eventually the guards traced back to their chambers which were close to the front doors. Sherlock had entered the room just as the last group ran out another corridor. He entered the chambers and the first thing he saw was his cell on a table in the middle of the room. Sherlock took it along with some other miscellaneous items he keeps in his pocket.
As he exited the compound he pulled out the phone and called the first number he thought of.
"Mycroft, I'm sorry, are you enjoying your cake?"
"Where are you this time Sherlock?"
"Near the Arabian Sea, Karachi I believe."
"I'll send a plane for you. Please don't get in too much trouble while you wait."
"I won't. Just remember your diet, Mycroft." Sherlock ended his call as he sauntered toward the city in the distance.
As the man stood there in the courtyard of the compound mid-temper-tantrum he called out, "I SHALL END ALL THAT YOU HOLD DEAR SHERLOCK HOLMES!"
Sherlock smiled, he had nothing dear, the closest he came to it was Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade, and soon John as well.