"Ugh..." Lara rolled her head and groaned. Her back ached and her neck was stiff, there was a pounding in her head. She was lying down on what felt like cold concrete. Slowly she opened her eyes and realized, with horror, she was in an empty basement, and her hands were chained to the wall. Trying to be brave, she snapped, "You've got to be kidding me. Very original, Jim!" When the only response was that of dripping water, she began to let her fear set back in. She yanked her hands against the chains, but it only resulted in cutting her wrists, and she winced at the unexpected pain. Suddenly a deep laugh broke through the silence. It was dark and throaty, and it cut deeper into Lara than the shackles did. "No, no it can't be..." She whispered, unbelieving, and shook her head as if to rid herself of the thought.

Another laugh. "Lara, Lara, Lara. Laaaraaa."

"Dad." She leaned forward, peering into the darkness at what she hoped was not her father. He stepped out of the darkness, and she sucked in a breath: it was him.

"Lara, you've been a naughty, naughty girl." Her father had his hands on his hips as he walked up to her. His face wore a cruel grin, and his plans were etched on his face. Standing in front of Lara, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Swiftly he flicked the knife across her right cheek, and she kicked him in the side. He glared at her. "You're going to regret that."

Another flick of the knife, across her other cheek. Before she could kick him again, he slashed the tool across her leg, making a deep wound. Lara screamed in pain. Her father laughed again. "That's the sound I always loved," he said with a smile, raising his knife again.

Lara's father left her after an hour of torture, but he had done so unwillingly. He had poured a bucket of water over her and was about to drop a live wire when his phone buzzed, the boss was calling, something he took as a sign to stop. "I'll be back, and with others," he had said.

Lara sat against the wall, watching her blood mingle with the puddle of water around her. Her leg was bleeding heavily, and she couldn't even wrap something around it to stop the loss of her vital fluid. She felt the crimson liquid running down her cheek, felt her tears race downwards. She closed her eyes, knowing much more suffering was yet to come.

Sherlock stood by the window of his flat, his mind racing. He had been sitting or standing in the living room for three days. That's how long it had been since Lara was taken. He should have sent Lara home right after the first incident. John, as though reading his mind, said, "It's not your fault, Sherlock. She wanted to be here."

"No, it was her job. But still." He didn't look at John, but continued to stare outside.

"It doesn't matter, she didn't even have a good home to go to, Sherlock. You've seen her father."

Sherlock sighed, but it sounded more like letting out steam. He was furious, and John could tell. They had no idea where Lara could be. Moriarty, again, had left no clues. The great detective had nothing, and it was driving him mad. He started pacing the room, racking his mind for anything that could help. He stopped. "John, leave."

"What?"

"Leave, I'm going to my mind palace." He sat on the couch, and put his hands together under his chin. John knew there was really no point in staying, but as he turned towards the door, Sherlock's phone rang. They looked at each other, then towards the phone.

"It's Moriarty," Sherlock whispered. He picked it up and clicked the answer button. "Hello."

"Hello, Sherlock."

"What have you done with Lara? Where is she?"

"Funny you asked! She wanted to say hello." Sherlock pictured Moriarty smiling, and he heard a scream in the background.

"Lara? Lara! Are you alright?" Sherlock ran a hand through his hair, and John looked at him worriedly. Moriarty laughed on the other end of the line.

"Say hello, Lara. Your babysitter wants to see how you're doing." A ripping sound followed, along with an agonizing scream.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, don't listen to whatever he says, and don't come look for me. It won't last much longer," Lara said between sobs.

"Lara, Lara I will find you and get you out of there!"

"No!" Lara screamed, and Sherlock winced as he thought of what they might be doing to her.

"So, you great consulting detective, where are we? What have you got?" Moriarty asked, ignoring the screams behind him. Sherlock was silent. "Where are we?" He demanded.

"I... I don't know. Damnit! Alright, I admit, I don't know." The criminal mastermind laughed at this. "Besides, what kind of game is this? This isn't a game, you are just toying with me."

"Oh, Sherlock, you got me." He snickered. "The game hasn't even started yet. But I am having fun playing with Lara. Her screams are like... Like music..."

"Let her go, and face me!" Sherlock's face was red with rage and exasperation. "She has nothing to do with me."

"Clearly, she has everything to do with you." Suddenly, the screams stopped. "Goodbye, Sherlock." A beeping sound ensued, alerting Sherlock of the fact the call had ended. He dropped the phone to the ground.

John walked over to him and pulled him into a hug he would not return. They stood there for a moment before John pulled away and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Sherlock looked down at John, and his eyes were stormy. He was even angrier than he was before.

"They're torturing Lara," he said simply. John gaped at Sherlock.

"Why would they-"

"To get to me." Sherlock looked again at John, his eyes now sad.

"But you barely even know-"

"However, I now have a pretty good idea as to where she is."

"But, how?"

"Their voices echoed, which suggested a basement. There was a constant sound of dripping water, which says disused building. Again, I might add. Also, you could hear a slight hum of traffic, which means it was in an area with a medium sized population. What place within a 30 mile radius of the cinema meets all of these qualifications? The Commonwealth Institute." Sherlock held his phone out, and John looked at him blankly. "Kensington?"

John gave him a look that said he didn't believe a word Sherlock said. "And how in hell did you get that from what you heard?"

"Alright, I traced the call. But I know for sure that this is the building because of what I heard."

"Where did you get the technology to trace calls?"

"You could say I 'stole' it from Mycroft." John lips pressed into a hard line and he nodded, and Sherlock continued. "Remember, John? I'm the British Government's little brother."

With that, Sherlock ran out the door, and by the time John caught up to him, he was hailing a taxi, a look of determination on his face.

Wait... Did I just torture your new favourite character? Oops, sorry! :)

Sherlock to the rescue! But will he be able to save her?