* A/N: Hey everyone :) Thanks for your patience and support! I know I said that the next chapter would deal with the kidnapping completely, but this is the second part to the previous chapter. The chapter which will be uploaded tomorrow (by 4pm GMT) will deal with Joan's kidnapping and its aftermath. Thanks again, and please let me know if there are any issues! :) HQ21
Joan's eyes opened slightly as she felt herself rise and fall on a solid surface. As she partially regained consciousness, she glanced tiredly around her, and realised within moments that she was in the back of a van. She closed her eyes once more, memorising the scene, and considering it in her mind. The van was fairly large, panelled, and had a wooden shelving unit near the front, on which were some laptops and other electrical and technological items. She had been being followed, she realised. This van, she was certain, was the one which was parked in the car park. She had been aware of two people behind her, as well as the woman in front, and considered that there could be no more occupants in this van. She saw the silhouettes of the men in the driver's and passenger seat, but did not know where the woman was. She was not in the back of the van with her, of that she was absolutely certain. Joan groaned slightly, shifting on the cold metal floor. This was far from an ideal position, and she turned slightly on her side to ensure that she was not putting any weight on her stomach. At that moment, she felt movement inside her abdomen.
The baby was kicking, with such strength and conviction that she gasped. She knew that her baby was strong, a fighter, but she had never felt him or her kick with such force before, and it took her breath away. She was not sure if the baby was afraid, or trying to reassure her. She tried to raise her hands to place them comfortingly on her abdomen, but found herself unable to do so. As she glanced down, she saw that her hands had been bound together using a plastic tie, which she felt cut into her skin as she attempted to free her wrists. Joan sighed, raising both of her hands and adjusting them slightly, so that the palm of her right hand was placed over the spot where the baby had just kicked. The moment that her hand reached her stomach, she could feel the kicking resume, and she closed her eyes, resting her head uncomfortably on the ground. She knew that to shout, to cry, or to antagonise her captors in any way would be both counter-productive and dangerous. Besides, she would need her strength in order to escape. A few moments after considering this thought, she began to feel drowsy once more. Her eyes flickered open, before shutting again immediately. She sighed gently, her mind a mixture of confusion and fear. She did not know what the woman had injected her with, but she believed it to be a mild anaesthetic, possibly the type used in hospitals. As Joan contemplated where a jeweller would get such an item, she lost consciousness once more, falling asleep with her tied hands resting on her abdomen, as her baby continued to kick.
She did not know how long she was in the van for, or in which direction she had travelled, but Joan found herself waking up as the vehicle came to a stop. Her eyes opened immediately, and she looked up towards the sound of the seatbelts unbuckling, and the doors to the van being opened. Joan felt her heart racing as she could hear the sound of footsteps on gravel, walking around the van and towards the back door. Joan closed her eyes tightly, breathing in slowly, before opening them once more. She had not had time to think clearly, or to try to understand why she was taken, or for what reason, but one thing she was aware of was that she was in an unfathomably dangerous situation. When she was kidnapped just over a year ago, it was terrifying, surreal, and she went through more than anyone should ever have to experience. She was drugged, threatened, terrified, and witnessed the murder of a dying criminal. All of this, she thought now, was bearable, compared to the fear and dread she was feeling due to the fact that this time was different from the last, because it involved another person. It was not simply her life at risk, but her baby's. She knew how dangerous stress was during pregnancy, especially during the later stages. She was also aware that, despite having four to six weeks left of her pregnancy she could, theoretically, go into labour at any time. And if it happened now, she would be powerless, and her baby would be in the greatest danger. Not just medically, but physically. The woman, who she assumed was the author of the letter, clearly displayed a disdain for children, and a lack of care over the well-being of Joan's baby. She did not want to consider what would happen if she had the baby here, now. As she considered this, and tried to control her breathing, she could hear the sound of a key in the lock behind her. Someone was opening the back doors. As if sensing her apprehension, she felt the baby kicking once more, with such strength that she gasped, moving her hand at the force. She inhaled a shaky, uncertain breath, before resting her hand on her abdomen, and closing her eyes.
The back doors were opened wide, and Joan could hear the sound of a different set of footprints. The sound was gentler, more delicate and, according to Joan's astute hearing and personal experience, a person wearing heels. It was the woman.
"Miss Watson, I know you're awake. The drug I gave you was rather mild." Came the same voice she heard earlier in the jewellery store. And to think she was concerned about the sweet, innocent new girl. Joan felt her heart beat faster as her thoughts became more lucid, and her memory of the last few hours returned with a greater degree of clarity. "Answer me." Commanded the voice.
"Do you really work in a jewellery store?" Joan asked in a groggy, sleepy voice, as the woman moved closer to her, and perched herself on the back of the van.
"No. No, a college friend does." She replied simply, swinging her legs childishly as her two henchmen held the doors open. "She needed someone to cover for her today, and I agreed. The store had a gorgeous necklace I was planning on... liberating, and so I thought, perfect. And then, would you believe it, I saw you." Her voice dropped slightly, and Joan opened her eyes, aware of the sinister nature which her tone had adopted. She turned slightly, moving from her right side to her back, and then pushing herself from the floor of the van into a sitting position, so she was facing the woman. The movement was much more difficult and problematic than Joan had anticipated, and she sighed at the effort, her heavy limbs aching. She was still feeling some of the affects of the 'mild' drug. She shifted herself slightly, moving her legs from beneath her, as she adjusted her focus to the dim light of the outside. They were on a gravelled area, surrounded by trees, grass and woodland, and not much more. Joan could not even see a road. As she looked around discretely, and rose her hands to move some hair from her face, the young woman was watching Joan with interest. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you. I mean, I had been intending on paying you a visit in a week or so. But then, I thought, this was much better. You were alone, the place was relatively deserted, and my boys were working just a few blocks away. The timing was perfect, the chances of you resisting or being saved minimal-" she paused, smiling slightly. "Well, slightly more than minimal, perhaps. That idiot associate of yours, he tried to help you. Unsuccessfully, I'm afraid. Tommy here had to... deal with him."
Joan frowned, thinking back to the scene. As she was losing consciousness, she had been aware of a strange sound, of someone calling her name. When she regained consciousness, she assumed that she had dreamed this. But then she remembered the voice, and the sound of someone approaching them. The men near her had panicked at the sound, almost dropping her. She thought for a moment, her mind and her memories still cloudy and uncertain. After a few moments, she heard the voice clearly in her head, and was struck by realisation. "Alfredo" she whispered, her eyes widening.
"Is that his name? Yes, well. I'm afraid 'Alfredo' is going to have quite the headache." The woman stated, pursing her lips together and continuing to swing her legs. Joan watched her with interest, before swallowing hard and attempting to speak. She wanted to sound more awake, more confident, and more together than she felt. Although she knew that this would be virtually impossible.
"What do you want?" Joan asked in a low yet gentle tone. The kindness in her voice surprised her, and it shocked the woman sitting just feet away from her.
"You don't know, do you?" She asked, smiling deviously. "You haven't figured it out, have you?" She grinned, turning from Joan to her men, before swinging herself around so that her legs were resting across the doorway of the van, and she was leaning against a door. "Don't you know who I am?" she asked, staring at Joan with her bright, brown eyes.
Brown eyes, thought Joan, as she continued to study the young woman. She was in her early twenties, tall, slim, and with delicate features which complemented her light blonde hair. She reminded her of a Jane Austen protagonist, although she could not remember which one. But then she realised that she reminded her of something quite different, someone much more real. And it was her eyes that gave her away. Her hair was different, and she had lost weight since the picture was taken, but it was her, without a doubt. Joan had not been paying much attention to her before, but now that she had time to consider her, she recognised her from the photograph. And she mentally rebuked herself for not realising who she was, and who had sent the note and made the call, sooner.
"You're Emily Lake's daughter." She said in a low tone, barely concealing her surprise. "There was a... a photograph of you and her together, in her office. You look-"
"Different? Yes. It's amazing the toll these things take on you." She sighed, turning from Joan and dangling one leg outside of the van, kicking the ground. "A few months ago, I was happy. I was in college, I was excelling at my studies, I had a part-time job, even a boyfriend." She turned to Joan, smiling slightly. "And then my mother was arrested." She spoke in a much lower, more sinister tone. "We talked everyday, you know. About everything. I knew about my brother, of course. She told me when I was very young. I think it's why she was such a great mother to me. She felt guilty. She felt that he deserved to be adored too, and so she projected all this love onto me." She turned back towards Joan, bringing her leg back up and crossing it over the other, slouching slightly against the side of the van. Her dark eyes glistened as she spoke, and Joan felt her heart racing. She tried to breathe slowly, carefully, in order to calm herself. She knew that it was imperative that she remained calm and did not panic. The baby needed her to be calm, and so she would be.
"They didn't let her talk to me. In prison, I mean." She stated very simply, in a low and even tone. "Apparently it was too dangerous. She could say something which would compromise the safety of the family she took. And it was then, really, that everything went a bit wrong. I started flunking my classes, got fired for turning up late once too often, and got dumped by my boyfriend after I gained a few pounds. All gone now, though" she said, staring at Joan with wide and vacant eyes. It was clear that the girl was overwhelmed by anger and hatred, possible even cruelty, and her current state would make it virtually impossible to reason with her. But despite this, Joan knew that she needed to try.
"What's your name?" She asked kindly, opening her eyes wider and watching the girl with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"Hayley." She replied, nodding slowly. "Why? Looking for baby names?" She asked, in a tone so cruel and so icy that it made Joan shiver.
"Hayley, I'm Joan." She said kindly, as she began to feel more awake and more energetic than she had previously. "I'm sorry about what happened to your mother. I know that you blame me for it, and I understand. I played a... an integral role in her identification and arrest. Holding me responsible for taking her from you is understandable. But that doesn't change the fact that your mother did a terrible thing. She was punished for what she did, not what I did." Joan spoke carefully, in a calm yet comforting tone. She watched Hayley as she spoke, noting with concern that the young woman's face remained impassive throughout. So she tried a different tactic. "Wanting to hurt me, to punish me, is understandable. But it won't-"
"I don't want to hurt you, Miss Watson" Hayley began simply. "That would be counter-productive." She stared vacantly ahead for a few moments, before turning back and facing Joan directly. "I want to trade you" she glanced down to Joan's stomach, and her eyes widened slightly. "Both of you."
"Trade me?" Joan asked, meeting Hayley's frighteningly cold gaze. "I don't understand."
"It's very simple, really." Hayley stated, chewing on the side of her lip and brushing some hair behind her ear, before continuing to speak. "I want my mum, your police friends and boyfriend want you and your brat. If they give me my mother, I'll give them you." She smiled slightly, before frowning once more and tilting her head back. "A life for a life. A mother for a mother." she muttered absent-mindedly, the cool air from outside blowing her hair into her face. She moved it back slightly, placing more behind her ears, before turning to face Joan. "Perfect, right?"
"Hayley, sweetheart, I understand what you're trying to do. I get it. I really do." Joan said sympathetically, her eyes regarding Hayley with warmth and kindness, which seemed to unsettle the young captor slightly. "But it won't work. That isn't how this works, Hayley. They will not release your mother to save my life."
"But they'll condemn you, to an unknown yet almost certainly painful short future, instead of allowing a single person to walk out of jail a little early?" She asked, her blazing eyes gleaming.
"The DA will not overturn your mother's conviction, or allow her to leave, so I don't-"
"Ah, yes, no, I understand that. But you see, this is where my plan becomes particularly interesting and, if I say so myself, especially brilliant." Her whole demeanour changed, and she appeared to be much more confident and self-assured, almost arrogant. "I am not going to the DA. I am going to someone much more... able." She smiled at Joan, before swinging her legs behind her, and placing both of her hands on the bottom of the van. Hayley crawled across the van towards Joan, who did not flinch or show any outward signs of concern, much to Hayley's dismay. Hayley reached Joan's side, and sat next to her for a few seconds, regarding her with interest. After a few seconds, she reached out a hand, holding it above her abdomen, before drawing it downwards towards Joan's pocket. Joan inhaled deeply, shivering slightly at the touch of her captor. Hayley noticed this, and looked up at her with a smile, as she slid her hand into her pocket and withdrew her phone. "I believe this is what they call 'killing two birds with one stone'" she smiled, raising Joan's phone and unlocking it. She was doing something which Joan could not see, and then her eyes shone with satisfaction, as she pressed a button on the screen and held the phone to her ear. "You are being punished for your offences, and I will ensure that my mother is freed because of your own weaknesses. And the weaknesses you undoubtedly inspire in others. Including those you love." Joan stared at her for a moment, attempting not to betray the confusion she felt. She shifted slightly in her position, adjusting her hands slightly and resting them at the bottom of her abdomen. As the phone dialled, Hayley stared at Joan's stomach, which made the latter feel incredibly uncomfortable. The fact that she stared at her stomach during the entire duration of her phone conversation disturbed her even more, as did the fact that she was talking to the person that she was.
"Ah, Mr Holmes." She stated sweetly, her eyes not leaving Joan's stomach. "Yes, yes she is quite alright, I assure you. No, no, completely unharmed. For now." She paused for a moment, and Joan watched her eyes as she listened to Sherlock speak. The volume on her phone was not loud enough for Joan to hear what Sherlock was saying, but whatever it was was clearly unnerving Hayley. "It's simply, Mr Holmes. If you want your girlfriend and your child, you will obey my instructions. I want you to plan, orchestrate and carry out the... the recovery of a certain prisoner, whose life I will exchange for this woman and her brat. A life for a life, a mother for a mother. A fair and amicable deal, I think you'll agree. You get what you want, and I get what you want." There was a brief pause, and Hayley smirked, before sighing deeply and responding to Sherlock. "My mother is Emily Lake. And if she is not out of prison within the next twenty-four hours, your girlfriend is dead. I will call you again in four hours time. Do not inform the police, do not attempt to trick me, and do not do anything which would in any way antagonise me. I assure you, Miss Watson and the baby will suffer for it." She hung up, and slid Joan's phone across the floor of the van until it hit the panel opposite. It was not broken or damaged, but the gesture was clear enough.
"Your boyfriend had better act fast, Miss Watson." She stated simply, turning as she got out of the van. She then brushed off her clothes, adjusted her fitted black blazer, and turned back to face Joan. She then turned her attention to the man standing to her right. "Take her inside. And make sure she is tied up tightly. Not that she is able to put up much of a fight, of course." She smiled cruelly, and Joan watched her as she walked slowly to the right of the van, to a place which was obscured by the open doors. As she did so, the man Hayley had just been talking to reached into the van and pulled Joan closer to him, holding her tightly by the shoulders, before pulling her slowly from the van. His actions were considerate, almost gentle. This surprised her. She recognised his grip immediately, as well as the feeling of a ring he wore on the middle finger of his right hand. He was the same man who caught her, and prevented her from falling. He did not have to. If she had fallen to the ground, Hayley would not have been concerned. So why was he? Why would a man involved in a kidnapping plot with a psychopathic student be so considerate over the well-being of the captive? As Joan pondered this question, she was led to the same place that Hayley had began to walk towards. It was an abandoned rangers' station in the middle of nowhere.
Sherlock hung up the phone, and breathed in deeply as he tapped his fingers on the face of the item. The daughter, of course. He could not believe that he had been so stupid. How could he have overlooked such a thing? Joan had mentioned a daughter, he was certain of it. Something to do with a photograph. As he considered this, he became aware of the sound of someone running towards him. He turned around instantly, only to be greeted by Captain Gregson, who was holding his police radio in the air, and wearing the unmistakable look of triumph. "We got it, Sherlock. We've got her location."