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Sherlock lay asleep on the floor of a rumbling cell. Bright blades of light sliced across his white face, illuminating several bruises lining his neck. Small whimpers were what finally woke the consulting detective, just loud enough for his ears. They reminded him of someone, a small boy. A pip in the back of his mind told him to discard the thought, and focus on something else. Yes, yes focus. What had happened? Sherlock opened his eyes. He couldn't see much, or think, really. A fog had seeped itself into his brain, and clouded his thoughts. He shifted a bit, finding himself chained by both wrists to a wall. No, not a wall. Cold metal bars. A cage? Oh good. He could think. Sherlock groaned quietly, and found the noise slightly sticky in his throat. Of course, he had been throttled. Almost choked for his landlady. Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson!
"Hud-(Sherlock hacked and wheezed.) Mrs. Hudson!?"
There was a moment of tense hesitation before Sherlock was met with a reply.
"Oh, oh Sherlock, we were kidnapped, and-and you were cho-"
"Are you okay; are you fine, did they hurt you?"
"Oh yes dear, I am perfectly fine, you?"
Sherlock grimaced. Mrs. Hudson wasn't hurt, that was good. But he still had no idea why they were being abducted, where they were, or who took them.
"Sherlock?"
"Fine, fine."
Sherlock's neck didn't exactly feel fine, but he felt no need to worry his landlady. He needed to get her focused, on remembering her captors.
"Who took you?"
The poor lady whimpered and shook her head.
"Well, I don't know them... they said they were picking up the bins early."
Of course. Mrs. Hudson loved her bins.
"Okay. Tell me exactly what happened, starting from when the men first entered the place, to now."
Mrs. Hudson took a deep breath, and started.
"Well, the knocked on the doors, and said they were here for early bin pick up. Then, out of nowhere, they come barging in. They...they picked me up, and threw me over a shoulder. That when you came down, and-Oh Sherlock the sight of it! I thought you were dead! After they... choked you, they put me in the back seat of their truck; it was a landscaper van I think. You were tossed in the back; they had you in a cuttings bag. During the ride, I was knocked out-"
"They hit you!?"
"Oh, no! They used a sedative, and were very skilled too! Felt like I was in a professional hospital!"
Sherlock held his hand up. He had heard enough. The way to escape was to know your captor. He wasn't dealing with an amateur. No criminal he knew of could not cause any pain when administering sedative. One that had previously worked in a hospital might. That left one person...
Moriarty.