"I think we have a problem."
Understatement of the year. Raven swallowed the lump in her throat and looked around the room. They were too high up to escape out the window – not to mention the fact she was in a skirt, the window would be a last resort – so that made the door the only other exit. There was, however, a bathroom… If she could bolt for it, she could make it there first and lock herself in before the dimwitted young man knew what happened.
Then again, he wasn't quite so dimwitted… she was, after all, locked in a room with him and effectively trapped.
She also still had his phone in her hands. Text Sherlock, that was an option. Not a fantastic option. It would mean admitting defeat and that she needed his help. Though, he would be useful in this situation.
Her only ways out and she didn't like any of them. How was she supposed to choose?
Miles didn't pick up on her internal debate. "Look kid, I want that internship. I'm certainly not going to let a little girl ruin this for me."
Little girl? Oh, this little girl was so going to bring him down.
"So what're you going to do about it?" She asked plainly, texting without looking at the keyboard. "You can't hurt me, or kill me, my father would be rather cross with you and believe me, you don't want him to come after you. Or my uncle; he's been known to start wars over less. Then there's my father's best friend. He was in the army. He knows some pretty inventive ways to make a man hurt in ways he never imagined."
Actually, she wouldn't put it past John.
"You think I'm dumb enough to believe that?"
"You mean you're dumb enough to not?" Send.
"Give me that!" He snatched the phone from her hand. "What the hell is tpp.6-9f?"
Raven shrugged, and was met with a fist connecting with her jaw.
"Er, Sherlock?" John looked at his phone screen as the detective fished his mobile from his coat pocket. "Did you get the same text that I did?"
"Yes," Sherlock's face went dark.
"What does it mean?"
Drew tried to see the screen as they walked. All he could see were random letters, yet Sherlock looked distraught over it.
This was confirmed when he broke into a run. "Raven's in trouble."
The boy felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. Raven was in trouble? Was it his fault? He'd done just as she'd told him to – he'd even told them Gilchrist instead of McLaren! – but had that gotten her into trouble? Could she be hurt? What if she was hurt? What if she died before he got to say goodbye, just like his Mum?
He couldn't stand that.
Not again.
"So, you hit little girls, do you?" Taunting her attacker probably wasn't her smartest decision – actually, nothing in the last ten minutes had been particularly intelligent on her part – but she couldn't help herself. The words slipped out of her mouth.
Even when she was on the floor, tasting blood and dazed, she couldn't help but taunt him.
"Oh I can do a lot more than that, little girl," he snarled, grabbing her by the neck and pinning her against the wall.
First instinct; struggle. No, struggling would get her nowhere besides extra bruising on her neck, less air in her lungs and possibly dead. Granted not struggling could do the same, but hopefully it would give her longer. She forced herself to look calm, and to hang limply.
Now would be the perfect time for Sherlock to show up.
"Am I making myself understood?"
"Hard to say, you're cutting off the oxygen supply to my brain, not a lot is clear," he tightened his grip before she could finish her sentence. Right, talking stupid. Why did she keep talking?
"What about now?"
"I'm not scared of you," total lie, but hopefully he bought it, "what do you honestly think is going to happen once you let me go? That I'll just return to my Dad with a bloody lip and bruised neck and say that I tripped and was strangled by a doorknob? I have your name," Raven reminded him. "I have your address. You don't win, no matter what you do now. It's just going to get worse for you the more…" she gasped, his hand choking her windpipe.
Stalling was a skill she obviously needed work on.
Really, Sherlock could show up at any bloody time.
"If… I…. go missing…" She forced herself to speak, "you think… no one will… notice? My uncle… will start the biggest… manhunt you… have ever seen. You… won't be able… to hide." For the hell of it, she smiled.
For the first time, Miles looked scared. Excellent. He swallowed, but didn't relax his grip. "You're lying, you little bitch."
Keep smiling, it was unnerving him. "You want… to take that… chance?"
Where the hell was Sherlock?
Now he was getting emotional, which could go two ways; he could realize that this was pointless, and let her go and accept his fate, or he would snap and do something rash. She hoped for the former, or that Sherlock would show up before the latter.
"No," he shook his head. "No. You're lying. You're just a kid." His hands trembled.
His grip loosened.
Raven gasped and drew a deep breath that her lungs had been aching for. "I'm not lying. He has access to technology you can only dream about. Finding me will be the government's number one priority."
Miles was shaking his head frantically. The weight of his situation must have been starting to sink in.
Suddenly, both hands were back on her throat, thumbs against her windpipe.
This time, she struggled, and hard. The room was spinning and starting to go dark. Her lungs hurt and she felt lightheaded.
Where the HELL was Sherlock?
