A/N Hey, everybody let's just say I got really bored. I know it's short, but I will be continuing this fic, but updates may or may not be sporadic. But I got a pretty good idea on where it's going so don't worry. This is my first fic, no scratch that first posted fic. So, productive criticism would be nice. No flames please. They will be used to made pizza, dears. Also, no I don't own BBC's Sherlock or Scott's brilliant FNaF. Despite how many times I've asked Santa.

When Sherlock went to bed it was after a particularly interesting case involving a lawyer and an illegal snake smuggling ring. John had even been there, before heading back to Mary, to domesticity, to a boring, simple life. He was happy for John, but it was unsettling. But, as much as he hated to admit it, Mycroft was right. He had told Sherlock that after three years he couldn't just hop back into his old life.

He sighed, at least they were all safe. Moriarty was dead and his Network burned to the ground. That's the important part. John was safe, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were safe. Everything was fine, perfectly okay and safe for him and the closest people in his life. As he drifted off, he didn't realize the irony of everything, because good things, well good things almost always lead to bad. The eye of the storm was ending. Because when Sherlock woke off it wasn't in his flat or in a bed for that matter.

He jolted awake, neck cracking after slouching in a desk chair. He glanced around, taking in the faded posters, various trash, and a whirring fan. A tablet lay on a desk next to an ancient phone. His own phone was missing, for obvious reason, you wouldn't let your kidnapped victim have a phone. Sherlock grabbed the tablet when there was a sharp crackle and a voice rang out over the PA system. Despite the static the voice was clear and held authority, someone who held a position of power and was used to giving speeches to the lesser minded public. "Evening, Sherl," she said.

"Who are you?" he didn't recognize her voice, though something about it made his skin crawl and his fingers twitch.

"Doesn't matter, it only matters who you are, Mr. Holmes. The great consulting detective," the tone gave off a sarcastic air and contiuned, "I have a case for you." "Most people make an appointment," he replied in a dry voice, but underneath it trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "Well, wouldn't that be boring. This is much more fun."

"I suppose so," He kept his eyes on the two doors, one on the right the other on the left. Unknown to most he was softly panicking, Sherlock Holmes was made for putting his life on the line, put something about this whole thing set him on edge. His kidnapper was so calm and not dull, not unlike Jim Moriarty had been. Also was how he ended up here, how she had gotten through Mycroft's cameras he may never know. "What do you want me to do then?" he asked, staying nonchalant.

"Here's the deal, survive the next five days and I'll consider letting you go back to that doctor and his pretty little wife and your city. If you don't, well I suppose you have nothing to worry about then."

"Is that it?" he let out a small laugh, "I thought you said you weren't boring."

"Trust me, Sherlock," a shiver ran down his spine, "I promise this won't be boring in the slightest." There was a crackle and he presumed the PA system shut down.

A beat passed and a chime rang out as the clock flicked over to 12:00 am. He grabbed the tablet, but set it down as the phone rang. "Hello?" It kept ringing. Sherlock flopped down on the chair, intent on entering his mind palace when he heard someone answer:

"Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?"