They were back at Baker St. and Sherlock was sitting in his chair while John paced anxiously back and forth.

"I can't believe that pyschopath has my daughter!" He yelled kicking out at his chair.

"John you need to calm down," Sherlock started.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down!" John bellowed, "You've seen what she's done to people! Rosie could be dead for all we know!"

"If Euros killed her we would have found her body already. No, Rosie's alive. We don't know what they're doing to her but she's alive." John sat down heavily and put his head in his hands.

"Oh god," he muttered.

"John," Sherlock said, "If we're going to help her we need to keep clear heads." John stayed silent and breathed haggardly.

"Sherlock, we need to find her. I can't lose her too."

"I know. And we will find her. I promise."

Rosie woke up with no idea where she was. She tried to stand up but found her arms, legs, and torso were tied to the hard, high backed, wooden chair underneath her. She jerked and tried to free herself but the ropes were too tight. Eventually, she stopped trying to get out and tried to figure out where she was. She was sitting in the middle of a huge stone room. Looking around she could see no windows so she was probably in some sort of basement. There was one door about 30 feet away. There were no visible locks but Rosie could guess that if she could get over there the door wouldn't just open. Rosie then tried to figure out who would have wanted to kidnap her. She didn't have any enemies so it was probably one of Sherlock's and her dad's old foes. Rosie sighed. She didn't know what else to do so she assessed her injuries. Her arms had bruises running up and down and her legs were sore but other than that she seemed fine. Rosie looked around for anything she could use to get out of the ropes holding her. She found nothing so she started rubbing the rope on her right hand against the corner of the arm rest. It didn't make much of a difference but she kept at it. After about an hour of scraping she had managed to tear one of the fibers of the rope. Just as she was about to start on another one the door on the other side of the room creaked. Rosie stopped scraping immediately and sat up straight as the door opened. First, two men in suits walked in and after them a shorter woman with long, wavy, dark, hair. The woman walked up to Rosie who stared at her defiantly.

"Hello," she said, "My name is Euros."

"I don't care who you are," Rosie snarled, though she was very curious, "What I do care about is why you kidnapped me."

"Ah. You see I'm very good friends with your father you see. Well, I don't know if you would call us friends but, we've met. Sherlock on the other hand is very dear to me. But, enough about that let's talk about you. You must be very smart to have done this." Euros grabbed Rosies wrist and exposed the torn rope. Rosie pulled her arm away quickly.

"You're just like your father. Always the soldier." She motioned to one of the men and her came back with a set of handcuffs and a knife. He cut loose her hands with the knife. Rosie immediately punched him in the face but then her arms were quickly grabbed by the other man. Her pulled her arms behind her back and the first man cuffed her arms back there. The chair was too high to pull her arms over and with her legs tied down she couldn't stand up.

"There, that should hold you a little longer," Euros purred, "You see I've worked very hard for this and you are not going to ruin it."

"Ruin what? Why am I here?" Rosie asked loudly. Euros put her face very close to Rosie's ear and said,

"You are here for an experiment. You see you people always have so many little emotions. I want to see them in action, so you are here to help me." Rosie jerked away from Euros and looked at her in disgust.

"You're crazy," she decided. Almost instantly white hot pain flashed across the left side of Rosie's face. She looked back up at Euros with hatred.

"Not crazy," sneered Euros, "Just smart." And with that the three adults turned and exited the room leaving Rosie alone again. She sighed.

"Well that's great," she said to herself, "Of course the psycho who kidnaps me happens to be smart."