So as to our questions concerning where we are. I expected Sherlock to figure this out so we can be back on our flat in 221B S. Baker Street in London. I looked at his every movements carefully. Sherlock was taking a while to actually look at the handcuffs by brushing it with his free left hand. He moved so silently like a lion hunting for its prey. It never will stop amazing me how peculiar my friend is like.
He now stiffens his wrist and says, "John, you aren't going to like this. I have a feeling we will have to break our own wrists to get out."
"Of course I don't like this as much as you do." I said angrily and let out a sigh by saying, "Let's get on with it. I still do need my hand, but if it is the only solution, then fine."
I could just see Sherlock with a bright smile as we both faced each other. I tightened my right hand on my cuffed left hand as I believed Sherlock did as well.
Sherlock said in a matter of fact voice, "On the count of seven, let's get our wrists out." Then he stopped by saying, "Or we could just find the key."
I let out a big gasp of air and shouted, "Really! You could have said that sooner! I thought we had to break our bloody hands to get out these chains!"
"John, just stating the facts." Sherlock said while being calm. This made me so angry that I wanted to shout even more, but I let it go and said, "Okay, okay. So the key must be somewhere then."
Sherlock looks around the room as I do too. He feels around with his foot in front of us then feels in the back. We then hear a clang. I grin as I hear that sweet sound of metal clanging on metal. The key was in the vent behind us!
"John, I need you to get the key. It's closer to you than it is for me."
"But, you hit it with your foot though. You have to be closer to it than me." I gasped.
"No, I had to reach with a lot of stress to my legs. You're closer to it than I am."
"Okay, fine, fine! I'll get it." I said with an upset voice. I reached over with my foot to hear a clang. I didn't hear it from behind me, but when I reached my foot to the right side of the vent I heard something. I stepped on a bump which I presumed was the key. Then I moved it with so much effort with my foot to move it towards us.
"Careful," Sherlock murmured. "The key is our only way to get out of here."
As with that, I moved it toward me and finally it was between me and Sherlock. Sherlock and I both looked in the darkness at a small, silver key. The key felt like it could not be reached while both of our one hands chained above our heads.
"So." I said. "Who's going to reach it?"
"A cane would be nice to have right about now. Or a gun so I can shoot something at the metal wall." Sherlock said without listening to me.
"A cane? That's what your thinking about?" I exclaimed. "Oh if only I still thought I had PTSD so that we wouldn't be in the mess!"
"Well you never did." Sherlock said sheepishly.
"Oh very well. Sherlock, you have the longer arms. You can do it."
Sherlock nodded and reached halfway down. He reached his left arm across from his body to get to the key. He abruptly stopped. Sherlock was breathing heavy: "It's not as easy as I would have thought."
"Let me try it." I said just to help him out. I placed my nearest foot at the key to move it towards me. Then when it was in between my legs, I bent as far as I could to grab it.
Sherlock looked in the dark at what I was doing. He placed his head on the wall while closing his eyes to think of something. Aside from this, I actually picked up the small key. It wasn't easy just as Sherlock said it would be.
"Sherlock, I finally got it!" I said happily.
I used the key on our handcuffs that were bolted to the wall. The key worked and we both had our hands back. Sherlock opened his eyes and smiled with delight.
"Excellent work, my dear Watson. Let's go for the tape player to find out our mystery kidnapper!"