I wake up strapped to a chair in a dark, cold room. I am not blindfolded anymore, and I take the opportunity to look around. My hands are tied behind my back; I can't move, and I can't do anything about my current situation. Suddenly, I hear a voice in the darkness. "John… You're finally awake…"
It's Sherlock.
"Sherlock! Are you okay?"
"I guess so… You?" His voice is husky; it sounds like he had been screaming. 'What had they done to him?' I think horrified.
"I've certainly been better."
I realize that Sherlock is sitting right behind me. Our backs are together, and we are tied to two different chairs. He is breathing heavily. He starts speaking again.
"Are you sure you're alright?" It breaks my heart to know that he cares the most about me in this situation, more than himself.
"I'm just glad to know you're okay." My voice cracks on the word okay. Tears roll down my face. I try to turn around to face him, but I can't. We sit there in silence. I then feel Sherlock's fingers search for mine. I grab his hand tightly, letting him know that I am okay- that we both are going to be okay. Sherlock leans his head backwards, trying to look at me.
"John…"
We both then start struggling to move our heads so we can see each other. It hurts my neck, but I don't care at this point. I see his bright blue eyes unchanged by the pain he has endured and I get the burst of energy I need to break free of this prison. I struggle against the ropes tied tight around me but I fail to move them. I sigh in frustration.
"Sherlock… I can't get free."
"John… I am so, so sorry… For all of this…"
"Don't talk like that." I reassure him. "We'll be okay, Sherlock. We'll get out of this."
"What if we don't, John?"
"You're Sherlock Holmes! If anyone can get out of this, it's you!"
"I…" Sherlock pauses. "I don't think I can…"
"Do you have any idea who did this?" I ask.
"It's the same person who intended to shoot you at Scotland Yard. The same person who drugged me to see my worst fear. The one person still working for Moriarty-"
"That's right, Freak."
We both turn our heads toward the recognizable voice of Sally Donovan coming from the darkest corner of the room.
"Sally?!" I yell at her.
"That's right."
"But you-"
She laughs at me, cutting me off. Sherlock hasn't said a word. He is surprisingly silent.
"Sally… Don't we get an explanation?" She walks forward toward me. "Can you tell us WHY you did this?!" She smiles. "Why. Did. You. Hurt. Sherlock?!" I say furiously.
"I didn't do it. Sebastian did."
"Who?" I ask angrily.
"Sebastian Moran. Jim's right-hand man."
"But why are you involved in all this?!"
"Because Jim offered me a job…" She begins to slowly walk around us. I feel like punching something. I take deep breaths in and out, trying to control my temper. "He gave me money… anything I wanted, really."
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yell at her.
"I think you know, John." By this time, she is standing in front of me again. She smiles. She bends down, and her face is dangerously close to mine. She whispers one word. "Revenge."
Sherlock's hand lets go of mine, and I wonder why. Sherlock then passes me something. It feels like a knife. I don't question how Sherlock has a knife, but I am grateful for it nonetheless. I start to cut the ropes restricting Sherlock first. Sally is still talking nonsense at me, but I tuned her out a while ago. The room is so dark, she doesn't suspect a thing. Minutes later, the ropes fall off Sherlock and he shakily stands to his feet.
"What?" Sally says. "How did you-"
Sherlock reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cell phone. He dials Lestrade in seconds.
"Basement of Lauriston Gardens in Brixton." Sherlock clicks the hangup button and lets the phone fall out of his hand. Sally stands there, shocked.
"How did you know where we are?"
"Really, Sally." Sherlock responds. "The place where John and I solved our first murder together. It was not a difficult leap."
Sherlock grabs the knife from my hands and cuts the ropes binding me. I look up at him. "Thanks. When did you get a knife?"
"Brought one. In case the fall didn't kill me."
I gasp. "Sher-"
"I'm joking!" He smiles. "I pick pocketed Sebastian Moran while he was torturing me. Didn't notice a thing."
I look at his face. He is bruised and his lip is bleeding. I probably look similar. We are a mess. But a very happy mess. We both start cracking up, while Sally stands there unsure of what to do. Sherlock and I are giddy with the prospect of survival. We get to live another day. This isn't the end. Sally knows that Sherlock and I could easily overpower her, so she is useless. Sherlock picks up a piece of the rope. He looks over at Sally, and then back to me.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Oh God yes."
