"Watson!" Sherlock Holmes, who had asked an hour ago for a pen, now looked up at the empty chair that his partner should have been sitting in. "Hm." He said at first and then looked closer at Watson's chair. It was mostly the same as it always was but he saw something else there. There was an obvious sheet of lined paper tucked in the cushion of the chair. Sherlock picked up the paper. Even before he read the note, had noted that it was typed in a pinyon script font and was printed on an Epson printer.
Seriously, I just broke into your house and kidnapped your partner without you noticing, you'll need to be better than that to get him back. Come to Santa Barbara and we'll see how bad you are. 1458 Harrison Street at 2:50 July 15 that's where you should probably start.
Sherlock felt a slight twang of panic and emotion, but quickly ignored it as it did nothing for him. He threw the paper back onto Watson's chair. He pulled out his phone and booked a flight to California. He didn't even bother to alert anyone of this trip. Sherlock was not the biggest fan of America, but Watson was necessary for many cases. He tucked his phone in his vest pocket. He grabbed his jacket from the table and ran out of the door and down the stairs, ignoring Mrs. Hudson's chatter. He thought about the note that was left. The use of sarcasm and humor suggested that it was either someone who didn't know what they where doing or someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The person made jabs at Sherlock and wanted to playfully provoke him. He didn't have as much out of the note as he normally did. He could not even tell if the person is male or female. Sherlock turned his attention back to reaching his plane on time. He ran around the block before calling a cab to take him there.
Shawn walked into the Psych office with an ice cream cone. "Hey, Gus did you know they make cake batter ice cream now. He was surprised when he found the office empty. Then he noticed the window wide open. He shrugged and sat in Gus' desk and put his feet up. His eyes spotted a sheet of lined paper that's typing was strange. He looked at the door quickly to see if Gus was coming in. He then preceded to read the paper.
Guess what Shawn? I got him. I have Gus. Your password is 1234, I mean COME ON! Anyway, yeah I'm a kidnapper and I just took Gus, don't even bother notifying anyone or looking for clues. I'll just give you a lead right now! 1458 Harrison Street at 2:50 July 15, be there or be square! P.S. I ate all of your Cheetos.
"Damn it, my Cheetos!" He said at first, before he comprehended the note. "Oh, no." He looked at the calender It was July 14 and he made the huge decision to wait and not tell anyone until the meeting or what ever it was going to be. But he did know he would be able to sleep or eat. So he just read the note over and over again making sure he couldn't make anything of it. Pretty soon he looked up and it was nine and getting dark outside, " A criminal has Gus." He repeated until it sunk in. What if they killed him? No, don't like that. He knew that wild 'what if's' weren't going to do anything for him or Gus and that ice cream was currently oozing all over his hand. He got up to wash it off and blankly looked at himself in the mirror. He was just waiting for a criminal to give him Gus. This wasn't Shawn Spencer the psychic detective. This was Shawn Spencer the desperate best friend.
Adrian woke up at seven in the morning just like every day. Immediately he knew something was wrong. Natalie was supposed to stay over this night because he thought that maybe one of his posters were uneven. He got up and put on his robe. "Natalie!" He called out in the kitchen. Assuming that she fell asleep on the couch, Adrian walked into living room to find nothing but a piece of paper crumpled on the sofa. He ran over to throw it away. Then, wondering where it came from he carefully fixed it and read the writing.
Sorry about the mess. I happens when you kidnap someone. Namely Natalie. No, she didn't leave. I took her from your apartment. Oh, I also think that I messed up a picture on your wall, sorry she ran, like, straight in to it. Don't worry, Julie's at summer camp. If you want to find her go to 1458 Harrison Street in Santa Barbara at 2:50.
Monk first threw away the paper and fixed the picture. Then he began to hyperventilate. This person had come into his house night and kidnapped his assistant. His got dressed and brushed his teeth until nine. He then got in his car. Santa Barbara was five hours away and he knew that Natalie might already be dead. He didn't even bother to call the Captain or Randy. Time was already wasting, that, of course, didn't stop him from obey all traffic laws to unnecessary lengths. If this sick bastard kills Natalie...He'd probably go into another break down. He tried to remember the last thing she said to him. It was something like, "You know Mr. Monk I do have a life. I can't just be babysitting you all the time." He hadn't even responded, he had simply fallen asleep. This kidnapper didn't know who they were messing with. He would solve this case, just like all the time. Just another lowlife. Oh, how wrong he was.
