Sherlock slowly opened his eyes. He was in a very bright room, so much so that he had to let his eyes adjust. His vision was a bit blurred and his body felt heavy. He blinked looking around. All he saw was a stool with a laptop on it in the corner of the room.

"My, my...you slept like a baby," He heard Moriarty's voice somewhere behind him. He turned his head and watched as the man walk around to stand in front of him.

"Where...am I?" Sherlock strangled out through his dry throat.

"Well I can't tell you that, now can I? That would take all the fun away from my game. See that computer over there is recording everything we do in here, and I'll explain to you what I told your friends; this is nothing more than hide and seek. If they can find you, you can walk off, I won't stop you. But..." Moriarty gave a disapproving face.

"But?" Sherlock said raising his eyebrows.

"Well you see, there's just one small catch. For every hour they are not here, I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life."

Sherlock blinked, trying to get his thoughts in order.

"That's not exactly fair play..." He said trying to reach up, his arms were aching terribly. When he realized they were bent behind him around a heavy steel chair tied together, he seemed to wake up a bit more quickly realized how dangerous this situation was getting. He tried to move his legs but his ankles were tied tightly to the legs of the chair as well.

"Oh, I think it's plenty fair! You came with me willingly, knowing it could cost you your life...and here you have a way out!" He said excitedly. Then looked back at the laptop.

"The first hour starts now. Time is 11:04am. Game on." Then he walked off out of a door somewhere behind Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at the laptop. He saw Irene's face looking back at him on the screen. He looked away. He hoped they would at least stop watching while Moriarty beat him. For once in his life...he didn't know what to do. He would have to completely trust John, literally with his life.

He kept glancing at the screen to see who was watching him throughout the first hour. John's and Irene's faces would alternate, sometimes they would both disappear, sometimes they would both be looking. He liked it best when neither of them looked. Frankly he was embarrassed to be shown like this. He was completely awake now, his mind back in working order, but his mouth uncomfortably dry. He could tell by the changing position of the laptop that they were actively searching for him. But it did little to settle his mind when he heard the door open behind him.

"Well, Mr. Sherlock, no sign of them yet." Moriarty said. Sherlock swallowed hard as Moriarty walk in front of him with his hands behind his back. His heart was racing but he kept a straight face. He mustn't worry his friends.

Moriarty laughed.

"What?" Sherlock said.

"These things are always kind of awkward to start, aren't they?" He said smiling almost a boyish smile.

"I wouldn't know," He said flatly. Thank God Moriarty was blocking his view of the screen.

The sadistic man brought his hands out from behind his back and held a thick piece of metal in them, twisting it about.

"Well...shall we begin?" He raised his eyebrows and brought the metal way up in the air.

Sherlocked closed his eyes, but it did nothing to slow the impact of the blow to the head that left him dazed. He let his head hang, finding it hard to find any reason to move it. He watched through blurred vision as blood dripped down from his hair, leaving little streams down his cheek. But he didn't have time to think too much about it as Moriarty swung the metal into Sherlocks gut, making him lean as far over as his bonds would allow him, not able to breath for a few full seconds. When he finally did gasp for air, leaning slightly back up, Moriarty swung once more at his side. Sherlock knew as soon as the metal struck a few ribs had fractured and perhaps punctured a lung.

"There now...that wasn't bad, was it?"

And with that, he simply left the room. Sherlock glanced up at the screen and saw Irene with tears falling down her cheeks. He felt something well up inside him that he could only describe as sadness. He found he couldn't look at her for fear of the sadness spilling out of his eyes. He watched the gentle drip of blood come from his face and land on his black pants. It kept him occupied for a while, but he found his head and side were absolutely throbbing in pain. He needed serious medical attention and soon.

John couldn't bear to watch while his friend was beaten, Irene had been stronger then him and elected to keep an eye on him while Moriarty did what he wanted to him. Just to make sure he didn't kill him.

"How are we supposed to know where to begin looking!?" John said pacing angrily.

Irene wiped her face.

"We have to think like Sherlock. That's the whole point, he wants us to hunt him down like Sherlock would. He thinks it's hilarious watching us struggle. Trust me. I know what he likes."

John gave her an odd look.

"You've been with that maniac?"

"Well I didn't know he was criminally insane when I was with him, obviously..." She turned back to look at the screen and watched her beloved Sherlock bleed quite badly from his head. He seemed to still be conscious but very dazed from the blow. That was a very rough start for something he's going to be doing every hour...

"Come on," she said to John.

"Where are we going?"

"We are going to think like Sherlock," she said and they put their coats on and walked back out into the cold air, toting the laptop in in a messenger bag.

They flagged a cab to take them to the actual cab station itself, and once they walked inside, Irene immediately walked up to the front desk.

"Can I help you miss?"

"I certainly hope so," she said and leaned onto the desk to be close to the man. He was short with a balding head and glasses and seemed to be quite keen on her. John simply stood back by the door and watched.

"You see, my friend is missing and I'm trying to figure out where he's run off to. Can you look up in your records if anyone was picked up from Baker Street yesterday morning and tell me where they have been dropped off at?" She gave him a seductive grin.

"Well ma'am...we aren't really allowed to give that information out..."

"Oh, I understand trust me it's just...my friend over there," she pointed to John standing awkwardly looking around, "see it's his boyfriend and he's too embarrassed to admit it but we think he may be running around on him. Poor thing is heartbroken..." She said sadly looking at him.

"Oh my...that is sad..." The short man said shaking his head.

"I don't normally do this...but since it's his boyfriend and all let me check."

He began typing on the computer.

"Oh, thank you so much sir...he will be forever grateful..."

He typed another minuet then hit the print button and ran to the printer.

"Here you go miss...don't let anyone else see that, just help that poor man find his mate..."

"I will sir, you're a good man," she smiled at him and quickly made her way to John where they both walked back outside.

"Ok it says here he was picked up at 221b Baker Street at 5:50am and that same taxi dropped him off at 6:23am at an intersection near second street and James avenue. So, I say we head there next," she looked up at him grinning.

"You are quite brilliant you know," John smiled back.

"I know," she said jokingly and they flagged down another cab.