Chapter 9- John

Twenty three hours, fifty minutes, fifty-two seconds

Sherlock took the taxi home alone, insisting that he needed to think. Irene and I were forced to wait thirty minutes in the pouring rain for the next cab to show up. Of course, Irene had an umbrella with her- an umbrella that was apparently too small to share. I hoped Sherlock didn't expect me to like her just for his sake.

I spent the entire ride back to our temporary home trying very hard not to think. I had no idea what to make of Penn's promise that Sherlock would be dead within twenty-four hours. If I'm being honest, I was absolutely bloody terrified. I could see Irene was shaken as well, though Sherlock had looked as if it was a perfectly normal vow.

As soon as we got to the hotel, I knew something wrong. There was no trace of Sherlock, but that on its own wasn't anything unusual, considering he was probably stuck in traffic, having taken the longer way home to order to 'organize his thoughts'. Unease spread through me, however, as I found a letter sitting on the mantelpiece. A single sheet of paper slid out of the envelope, and immediately I knew it was a photograph. I turned it over, the sick feeling in my chest doubling in size. The picture was a glossy black-and-white, and most of what it showed was a crumbling wall. It was nondescript except for one detail: hanging down about an inch from the ceiling were pair of manacles.

And chained with his hands clenched above his head and his back to the photographer was none other than Sherlock.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing at first. I had seen him less than an hour ago. There was no way he'd been abducted again for the second time in three days.

Irene appeared at my shoulder, staring at the photograph with a guarded expression. Finally she spoke. "I knew where that is. Moriarty and I met there when we first introduced." I was already reaching for my coat at the word 'Moriarty'. I made it all the way to the door before she stopped me.

"Wait, John. We're not going to be able to get there by cab. This place is practically in the middle of nowhere. It isn't on any maps, I can assure you." She sounded unnaturally calm.

I sighed. I should have known that with my luck there were going to be complications. "What are you saying?"

Irene's smile was wicked. "I don't suppose you've ever stolen a car before?"

Twenty minutes later I was sitting in the passenger sit of a car that Irene claimed she would return eventually. I had a feeling she defined 'eventually' as a few years minimum, but I had bigger problems. Like how in the world we were ever going to get out of this mess.

A beeping noise made us both jump. My eyes immediately darted to her shoulder. Sure enough, I could see a squared-shaped patch of slightly darker skin. Completely unnoticeable, unless you knew what to look for. Irene pulled over, clearly confused out of her mind but trying to hide it. I started searching frantically for something to dig it out with before I saw that she was one step ahead of me, holding a pocketknife. She handed it to me, biting her lip as I quickly cut out the da**ed tracking chip. As I worked, I summarized about discovering the first chip Sherlock's shoulder. She just kept nodding, making herself look anywhere but at her wound. I never would have guessed Irene Adler wasn't a fan of blood, judging from the way she had heartlessly beat my friend with a riding crop the day we had met her.

"That's how Penn found us." She said, breaking the silence that had fallen over us. "Earlier today, and at the hospital with the intercom."

I wrapped a torn piece of my shirt about her arm. "He can't be the only one who was tracking you." It occurred to me then that the chip beeping had been getting louder and faster. I glanced at it just in time to see the green light turn red. "Irene." I coughed, trying to talk around the lump of horror forming in my throat. "Whatever happens in the next ten seconds, just keep driving."

"What?" I ignored her, twisting to face my side window. I grabbed the handgun I had thought to bring along and shot a hole straight through the center of the glass. Irene was driving back onto the road, gaining speed swiftly, and I could feel air being sucked out as I tossed the chip out. I shot a look behind me the same moment the chip exploded into a mushroom cloud the size of my flat. Irene was barely keeping ahead of it.

I blinked, and almost instantaneously the front of the car crashed into the front of a building that looked like was on the verge of collapse even before we hit it. I could tell from the expressionless mask Irene's face had become that this was our destination. A few hundred yards away from our stolen vehicle I could make out the smoking pile of ash that had been a tracking chip. I was sort of astonished we were still breathing.

This was never going to end well.

-jADE