Joan tried to search for something to cover herself up with, but she couldn't feel anything except for the shabby carpet in the back of the truck. She had removed the bag from her head the minute they shut the door and she was alone, but it was still really dark. There weren't any windows or gaps in the truck's framework and even with Joan's eyes adjusting to the dark, she still couldn't see anything. Joan sat, crouched in the corner and took a deep breath. She shut her eyes and concentrated on the truck's movements. So far, they had turned left, right, driven straight for awhile, and took another left. Joan estimated that they had been driving for about an hour because the usual noise of New York traffic had died down. The noise usually dies down about an hour out of the heart of New York City, so Joan knew that she was at least an hour away from wherever the warehouse was. She didn't know how far away Sherlock's home was from the warehouse because she still did not remember how she had ended up in the warehouse in the first place…or where the warehouse even was.
Joan felt the truck make a hard stop and she pitched forward. Joan braced her fall with her palms and gritted her teeth to try to numb the pain that shot up her arms. She heard the truck's passenger and driver's side door slam shut and she reached for the bag that had been over her head. She put it back on and waited for them to open the back door. She heard the men's footsteps and she held her breath. One of the men pulled the back doors open and Joan waited for them to yank her out. To her surprise, one of them spoke without grabbing her.
"Come on, hop on out." A different male's voice spoke calmly.
Joan stayed where she was, unsure of whether he was testing her or if he meant it.
"Come on, honey…and take that silly bag of your head." The man reached for the bag on Joan's head and pulled it off.
Joan had her eyes closed tight and she was waiting for him to pull her out of the car.
"Ms. Joan…" The man smiled at her.
Joan opened her eyes and stared at the man. "You know my name?"
"Of course I do. Now, come on out. I won't hurt you." He extended a hand towards her with a warm smile on his face.
Joan looked at his hand and then back into his eyes. The man had brown hair that was slicked back with more hair gel then he needed and his eyes were a stunning blue. His smile looked so inviting…so warm.
Joan slowly placed her hand in his and he helped her out of the back of the truck. She froze as the men who had brought her to this place advanced towards her.
The man held a hand up to stop the advancing men and grasped Joan's small hand in his other hand. He looked toward Joan when the men stopped coming near her. "It's okay dear, they won't hurt you…I promise." He smiled warmly again and Joan felt a little safer…even if she was completely nude and vulnerable.
He led her through the darkness to the large building that the truck parked in front of. He led her through the door and they disappeared behind its walls.
…
"Where is she?" Sherlock demanded an answer from the well-known scam artist standing behind the bar. Detective Bell and Captain Gregson stood behind Sherlock, letting him direct the conversation. They knew that Sherlock would be able to get an answer from this man even if he didn't say anything about Joan. Sherlock was always able to read people; it was his best quality.
"Where is who?" Phillip Olin glared at the consulting detective sitting at the bar and at the two NYPD officers.
"Don't act dumb. You can't fool me. I want to know where Joan is and I want to know now." Sherlock hated when people lied to him. It was insult to his skills. It was almost like they didn't believe that he could tell when people lied to him. By far, it was the easiest thing to observe about people. Their faces gave them away, no matter how hard they tried to hide it.
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Who is Joan?" Phillip began cleaning the bar glasses while the two cops and one consultant watched him.
"You know quite well who she is Mr. Olin. I would appreciate an answer to my question before I have to beat it out of you." Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth.
"Holmes…" Captain Gregson warned him.
Sherlock bit his cheek to stop himself from saying any more threats to Phillip. He took a breath to calm himself a little and spoke with a less threatening tone. "Where is Joan Watson? I know that you have her. All signs point to you, Mr. Olin."
"Do they?" Phillip smirked as he polished the last glass and set it down to dry.
Sherlock continued. "I know you wanted to shut her up and keep her from uncovering your shenanigans."
"Shenanigans?" Phillip asked in fake innocence.
"You're scamming people out of their money and cheating them at cards. Sure, cops have never been able to convict you of these crimes, but you knew that Joan was getting close to actually catch you and turn you in. To shut her up, you kidnapped her and stashed her somewhere. I'd like to know where, please." Sherlock clenched his fists to stop himself from attacking the man across the counter.
Phillip frowned. "That's a great plan…too bad I didn't do it. If your 'Joan' is really missing, I had nothing to do with it."
"Why should I believe anything you say?" Sherlock glared at Phillip.
"Because it's the truth…I had nothing to do with it…" A thought came to Phillip's mind and he bit the inside of his mouth, hoping that Sherlock hadn't seen anything.
Of course, Sherlock had noticed and he asked about it. "What is it?"
Phillip glanced around the remaining people in the bar and spoke in a hushed tone. "I'm telling the truth about having nothing to do with it…but…I have an idea of who might have her…"
Sherlock arched an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.
"But…you need to promise me something first." Phillip finished.
"What is it?" Detective Bell spoke up, interested.
"I need you to promise me that you will not tell anyone that I told you…" Phillip actually seemed desperate. He knew who had Joan and he was afraid. You don't mess with them…if you get on their bad side, its death.
"Tell us." Captain Gregson stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Okay…I've been gamblin' with these new guys. They're loaded and often mention their 'line of work'…" Phillip paused, "It took me a while to pry the 'plan' from them, but they finally entrusted me enough to tell me…"
"Explain." Sherlock was recording this whole conversation in his mind in a mental note.
"Well, they've been talkin' quite a lot about your father…Mr. Holmes. They've been thinking of holding you for ransom…but they didn't know until recently that your father wouldn't give a rat's ass."
Sherlock frowned and finished Phillip's statement. "So they decided to strike at me by kidnapping Joan because they know that I'll pay the ransom…"
Phillip nodded. "Exactly."
"I haven't heard anything about a ransom though…" Sherlock pulled out his phone and checked to make sure he hadn't missed any calls.
"Well…it might be because they can get more money from others using your friend…" Phillip looked down at the bar.
"What do you mean?" Captain Gregson furrowed his brow.
Phillip glanced between the three men sitting before him. "Have you gentlemen ever heard of sex-slave trading?"
…
"Right this way, dear." The man led Joan to a room that looked like a barn full of horse stalls. It reeked of sweat, urine, and blood mixed together into one pungent scent.
Joan had to breathe through her mouth in order to prevent herself from throwing up. "What is this place?"
"A safe place." The man replied, gently pulling her towards a stall. He let her hand go and motioned for her to go inside.
Joan eyed the stall and frowned. The stall was full of hay and had chains with restraints on the wall.
He noticed that she was going to flee so he placed an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. You aren't going to be chained up."
Joan eyed him and tried to tell if his friendly demeanor was just for show or if it was genuine. She couldn't tell…the dehydration was setting in. She yawned from exhaustion and managed to remember the promise she had made to herself. Go along with whatever they make you do…
"Okay…" Joan walked into the stall and grew aware of her nakedness. She covered her breasts with her arm and looked in the stall for a blanket.
The man whistled and Joan turned to look at him. He tossed a blanket at her and she scrambled for it. "Usually, we don't give our girls any sort of blankets or clothing because one should not feel self-conscious about their body. The human body is a beautiful thing, Ms. Joan…"
"If your 'girls' don't get blankets…why do I get one?" Joan wrapped the blanket around herself and breathed a sigh of relief. She was warm and her body was covered.
"Because my dear Joan, you are special." The man winked and closed the stall door.
Joan heard the distinct click of a lock and once again, felt trapped.
"I'll see you soon, Joanie. But for now, get comfortable." He smiled and walked away from the stall door.
Joan looked around her stall for any sort of food or water and was relieved to find a package of saltine crackers and two, slightly cold water bottles. She twisted the cap off the water bottle and gulped it all down. She tossed the empty bottle in the corner and opened the package of saltine crackers. She grabbed three of the twelve crackers in the package and closed the package so the crackers wouldn't go stale. She nibbled on one of the three crackers and looked around with more awareness. The water had rehydrated her and she finally felt that her brain was working again. She knew that she never should've trusted that strange man who had pretended to be so friendly, but that was the past. She was stuck in this stall, like an animal, and she needed to find a way out. But how?
Joan stopped nibbling on her second cracker when she heard a strange noise. She listened for it again and when she heard it again, she stood up to investigate. She walked over to the stall wall that divided her stall from the one next to it and looked through the steel bars.
On the ground was a young woman, maybe in her twenties, crying into the hay.
Joan felt her caring side kick in and decided to address the sobbing woman. "Are you okay?"
The young woman looked around for the source of the voice and when she saw Joan, she wiped her tears. "Who are you?"
"My name is Joan Watson…are you alright?"
The young woman wiped some more tears away and nodded. "I'm just so hungry. The handlers don't feed us."
"Handlers?" Joan felt the panic rising. Only certain people were called handlers.
"Yeah. They're supposed to be caring for us, but they don't. I haven't gotten my crackers in three days. We're supposed to get one package of crackers a day and two water bottles…but most of the time, they forget or just don't feel like giving anything to us." Another tear ran down the young girls face.
Joan felt sadness for this girl. She was so young and so beautiful…she didn't deserve to be here.
The young girl was blonde with brown eyes, like Joan's. She had some freckles on her cheeks, but they were hard to see with all the dirt caked on the young girl's white skin. Joan noticed that the girl's ribs were showing more than they should've been, meaning she hadn't been fed well. The only reason she saw her ribs was because the young girl was also nude.
Joan walked away from the steel bars and grabbed four of her crackers from the package and poured half of her water bottle into the empty bottle. Joan walked back to the steel bars and found that the girl and gone back to crying.
"Hey, I have something for you." Joan spoke soothingly.
The young girl's head raised and her face lit up when she saw that Joan had food and water.
"Take it." Joan pushed her hands through the bars and the girl jumped up to receive the gifts.
The girl bit into a cracker and took a sip of water. When she was done with two crackers, she smiled at Joan. "Thank you so much, Joan."
"You're welcome..." She trailed off, hoping the girl would tell her her name.
"The handlers named me Anna Rose, but my real name is Mariah Tellor." Mariah took another gulp of water.
"They named you?" Joan's fears were confirmed. This was definitely the sex-slave trade.
"Yeah…They've named all their girls. Is Joan your name?"
"Joan is my real name…They haven't 'named' me yet."
Mariah nodded. "They will, though…they've named everyone…"
"How long have you been in this stall?" Joan looked back at her own stall and frowned at the thought of having to spend the night in it…or worse, weeks in it.
"A month or so…"
"A month?" Joan asked, surprised, her attention snapping back to Mariah.
"Yeah…I was one of the first girls here. They're collecting us for some 'big event'." Mariah finished off her last cracker and drank the last bit of water.
"Event? What event?" Joan wanted to get all the information she could about the situation. It would help her when Sherlock found her. If he found her…
Mariah shrugged. "Don't know. They don't tell us anything…I just eavesdrop sometimes when I can."
A knock on the stall door made Joan jump. She looked towards the noise and froze.
The 'friendly' man who had brought her to the stall was standing with a smile that looked too forced. "Hello, Dixie Rain."
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