Sally Donovan had fallen asleep on her sofa, one leg draped over the back of the couch and a thick book clutched to her chest. It was all of the Chronicles of Narnia compiled into one book for convenience. After putting on her silk night gown, she had decided to drift off to sleep reliving her childhood.
She was having a dream; it wasn't particularly strange but it felt alarming none-the-less. She was small, a twelve-year-old again, wearing her primary school uniform and she was walking through a large, nearly empty room.
The only thing occupying the room was a large wardrobe that was ornately designed. She felt a sense of foreboding but walked towards it anyway. The walk seemed to take hours even though the room wasn't that big. She felt like she was moving in slow motion. Finally reaching the doors, she traced it with her fingers as far up as her short arms would let her. She could nearly reach the top on her tip-toes.
Gripping the brass handle of each door, she twisted the knob slowly a pulled. A bright light shone from behind a row of coats. She squinted into it but couldn't see anything. Soon, the light was growing bigger and brighter. It encompassed her.
Sally sat up breathing heavily as if she'd been holding her breath in her sleep. Looking around she realized she couldn't see much. She had taken out her contacts and she didn't need her glasses to read. She felt around for them blindly before feeling the familiar small plastic frames. Sliding them on, she felt dread wash over her.
She was not in her apartment. She was in a dimly lit warehouse lying on the cold stone floor. She shivered and stood up, breaking out in goose flesh. Looking around, she hopped from foot to foot because the cold was starting to become painful. She spotted a small tele nearly completely blocked by a stack of crates. She ran towards it, only stopping for a second to think that maybe she should go outside first. She decided to at least check out the tape first. She wouldn't be here if it would be so easy to escape by just walking out the door.
Sally gave a surprised yelp. The last person she expected to see was tied to a chair facing the TV. It was Sherlock Holmes and his head was lolling back and to the side as if his neck was made of rubber. She ran to him, feeling a bit concern for the man she despised. But who couldn't help but feel sorry for a man who was bound and gagged with at least a mild concussion?
She checked his fluttering eyes first, not yet ready to remove the piece of cloth that kept him quiet. His pupils we're dilated, but that didn't tell her much because they were in low light. Then she saw a stream of blood dripping from a cut on his hair line. She finally removed the scarf from his moth and dabbed at the cut. He tried to talk, stringing incoherent words together.
"Shhh, don't talk," Sally whispered kindly. "Please," she deadpanned. She wasn't about to let him stay on that chair, but if she was kidnapped with the Freak, she wouldn't put up with his abuse.
He ignored her command however till the words he wanted to say played out in the correct order. "…vid…pl…play…Mor… play…the… video." His voice was so weak it worried her. But on the plus side, this was the longest the Freak had gone without being a smart ass. She walked over to the TV and pushed play.
She was greeted by a close-up of a smiling face. Quite literally. "Hello, Sally." He shifted as if he was trying to peer around her shoulder. "Hello, Sherlock." His movement was so accurate it seemed like he was interacting with them in real time. She shivered, this time not from the cold and backed away.
Sherlock was slowly regaining his senses. He had been on a stroll to clear his mind when they'd picked him up. Now his mind felt foggier than ever. They had simply slowed down next to him and said, "You really shouldn't walk around alone at 1 am." They pair pointed a gun at him. He raised his hands and an eyebrow before sliding into the back of the black BMW.
Before he could react, they thug on the passenger's side stuck a needle into his leg and pushed the plunger. He knocked it out of his leg quickly, but could feel numbness spread from the injection site rapidly. Brilliant, he thought not at all sarcastically. Making me unconscious so that I won't remember the route they travel or the time it takes me to get to the destination. They don't have to blindfold me or tie me up because I'll just look like a sleeping passenger. This will be entertaining.
He woke up fuzzy head and strapped to chair. Moriarty's face was paused on the television screen in front of him. The television was on a rolling cart and the thug that had driven him here was locking the wheels so that it wouldn't roll away.
"I'm awake now. You might as well play Moriarty's message." Sherlock was calm. He'd been in worse situations. It would be easy to figure a way of escape. One scenario would end with him driving the thugs BMW back to London.
The criminal looked at him with a sick smile. "Player 2 isn't here yet."
Sherlock's confidence fell just a bit but he didn't let his face show it. He went over in his mind of who it could be. The most obvious choice was John. Sherlock doubted that Moriarty would put him with his best friend. Maybe it was Mycroft. If Sherlock wanted to torture himself, he'd lock himself up with his brother. But Mycroft was to high-up; too well protected. Mrs. Hudson? Sherlock hoped against that more than doubted it. Here he was letting his emotions get in the way of his deductive skills. He needed to think.
His thought process was interrupted by a door opening loudly somewhere Sherlock couldn't see. He turned his head sharply to the side. He saw the driver of the BMW walk past carrying a person over his shoulder and something clutched in his right hand. He recognized the mass of spiraled brown hair almost immediately. It was none other than Sally Donovan draped unceremoniously over the man's shoulder, arms dangling limply.
This was a surprise for sure. "Hey!" The guy didn't turn around. "Why did Moriarty choose Sergeant Donovan? There girl is barely there half the time, not clever at all, and she hates me (Wonder why, the thug thought sarcastically). What's the point?" Sherlock was agitated and it was starting to show. He felt like he didn't know something and he didn't like it at all.
"Shut up or you'll wake your friend."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh right-" Sherlock didn't finish his sentence. He was pistol whipped into silence and he could only sit there and watch the room spin as he was gagged. The pair left quickly after that and soon he heard the stirrings of Sally Donovan. His brain was too muddled to think though he just hopped she'd find him.
"Congratulations," Moriarty said. "If you're watching this, it means that Sally Donovan was smart enough to watch this video before trying to escape. Sherlock, I like games. I enjoy them so much. And right now, you two are in my game.
"If Sally hadn't been smart enough to watch this video, you two would be dead right now. But it seems the first test was passed. Ever window, every door that leads to the outside is unlocked. In theory, you could walk out if here right now if you wanted unscathed. But in that theory, I hadn't rigged every door and window to explode if opened from the inside. There is one exit that is booby trap free, but good luck in finding that one.
"The object of this game is to not die. You still have your phones, if you had it on you at the time you were picked up, but the GPS has been permanently disabled. If you can find a way to tell them where you are, you are free to go. If you find the exit that isn't rigged with explosive you are free to go. The only rule is: Don't die."
The video cut to black and Sherlock closed his eyes, the pain in his head getting to him a bit. Before he got too comfortable, the video cut back on. Sherlock's eyes narrowed.
"Oh and Sally, I bet you're wondering why you're here." Sally stiffened, her eyes wide with fright. "Right well, Sherlock can get a bit boring sometimes. He'd try any old door if he was here long enough by himself. He'd let himself die after a while. I put you there so that he wouldn't give up. Give him some urgency. Why you? Well, we wouldn't want to spoil all the surprises now would we?"
