How are you today darling? I'm rather bored. –JM

Say hello to Sherlock for me. –JM

Don't ignore me dear. –JM

Her phone had being going off almost every half hour, and it was starting to irritate Eve more than it should. After about four more texts, she came to a crossroads; she could either turn her phone off, or let her curiosity get the better of her. She sighed and, being Sherlock Holmes' younger sister, ended up opting for the latter.

Who are you? –EH

The response was almost immediate.

A fan. -JM

Eve stared down at her phone, about to type out a reply, when Sherlock's voice interrupted her "And who're you texting?" he said, in his usual tone of condescension and arrogance. Eve quickly slipped her phone into her pocket and turned to face him "Why does it matter?" she asked. Sherlock smirked and stepped up to her "Well, considering you don't know anyone in London and Mycroft should have recovered from his route canal by now, I'm curious" he shrugged, locking eyes with her. "Must you be curious about everything I do?" she asked exasperatedly, to which he raised an eyebrow "I'm only curious because you won't tell me" he said simply, crossing his arms. Eve mentally swore, and was about to make up some lie when John walked in the room, to Eve's relief. She didn't know why she felt the need to not tell Sherlock about the texts; maybe it was because she wanted him to stay out of her life. Maybe it was because she wanted a sense of adventure in hers; even if this was all the adventure she was ever going to get.

"Am I interrupting?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock was about to speak when Eve quickly cut him off "No, you aren't interrupting anything" she said with a cheeky smile. Sherlock glared at her slightly for a moment, but brushed it off quickly, and turned to John as well "Lestrade texted. They've got a lead" Sherlock said, to which John nodded. "Are you two off again then?" Eve asked, leaning on the back of the chair "Do you two actually spend any time in your own flat?" John smiled "Seemingly not" he said, looking to her before moving his attention back to Sherlock "Shall we?" Sherlock nodded and quickly turned to go down the stairs, before an afterthought occurred to him "Oh, Eve? Try not to completely rearrange the flat this time" he said, flashing a quick smile, before hurrying down the stairs. John raised an eyebrow "You rearranged things?" he asked Eve, scanning the flat quickly, but finding nothing out of place; well, not more so than usual anyways. Eve rolled her eyes "Just a few papers and some books. He's being dramatic again" "Ah, so that's why I've been able to actually find what I'm looking for lately!" he said with a smile, before hurrying to catch up with Sherlock.

Eve chuckled under her breath, before walking over to the other side of them room and picking up her guitar. It occurred to her she hadn't played for almost a week; to be fair though, she'd been quite busy. Eve sat on the couch lazily, idly strumming a few chords and tuning the guitar accordingly, before slowly progressing the chords and notes in to a melody. She stretched out a bit more comfortably when she began to sing along quietly with the tune, which was a song she'd been working on composing for months now – the muse just hadn't struck her for long enough to finish it. Minutes turned to hours, and almost three hours later the song hadn't progressed any further. She gave an exasperated sigh and was given the opportunity to take a break from her struggle when her phone vibrated in her pocket (the constant sound of it going off had gotten irritating).

Surprise darling. –JM

Eve blinked confusedly at the message "Surprise?" she muttered to herself quietly, before the sound of the door downstairs opening caught her attention. She shrugged it off, deciding that it must've just been Sherlock and John getting home: that theory, however, was proved wrong when she felt a strong hand cover her mouth and drag her off the couch, across the floor. Going off of her natural instincts, Eve tried to fight back, which was relatively successful until a second man held her down. It was at this point that Eve finally got a good look at the two intruders: both were wearing black suits and black gloves, with guns strapped to their hips. The first man still had a hand covering her mouth, which made breathing a little more difficult than it should have been. The man holding her down nodded to his companion, and they heaved Eve up of the floor, pinning her arms behind her back and tying them in place. They dragged her down the stairs, Eve still putting up a bit of a fight, and shoved her in to the back seat of the waiting black car, which sped off moments later.

It wasn't until about nine at night that Sherlock and John finally arrived back at the empty flat. "I suppose Eve's gone out then?" John asked, looking around the room. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and followed the path John's eyes had taken but, of course, seeing everything the doctor had missed: scuff marks on the floor (likely from a leather shoe based on the lustre and color), a small scratch on the arm of the couch (caused by nails being dragged across the material), and Eve's guitar on the floor (knocked to the ground carelessly). Sherlock's hand immediately went to his phone, pulling it out and sending a quick text to his sister, knowing that she would always have her phone with her.

Where are you? –SH

The minute he pressed send, both men heard a quiet vibration, and Sherlock quickly bent down to the floor, finding Eve's phone beneath the couch. Sherlock locked eyes with John, who shook his head "You don't think…" he trailed off, knowing and fearing exactly what the detective was thinking. Sherlock tore over to John's laptop, easily bypassing the password protection, and going to his own website, posting a new entry: Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. The Pool. Midnight. Be prepared to return what was taken. John had moved behind Sherlock to read over his shoulder, still baffled at how he got through the password protection "You think he took her? The bomber?" John asked him. Sherlock nodded "Yes" he returned simply.

"So what, we just wait here for three hours while that madman's got your sister?"

"For now, that's the most logical thing to do"

John sighed and nodded, knowing that Sherlock was both right and impossible to argue with. He sat down in the arm chair, watching as Sherlock picked up his violin and began to play what John assumed was a self-composed piece, considering Sherlock preferred to write and play his own music when he truly needed to think. Time seemed to tick by slowly, and John found himself (and occasionally caught Sherlock) staring over at the clock for minutes on end, just watching the seconds tick by. Although John himself was anxious, he found himself wondering what it must be like for Sherlock; the man really didn't seem to possess emotions, and yet, with his own family kidnapped by a bomber, he surely had to feel something.

Across London, Eve awoke on cold concrete floor. She didn't realize until then that she must've either fainted or been knocked unconscious. She sat up slightly awkwardly, as her hands and feet were bound, and she looked around the room. It was completely pitch black on all sides of her, with one simple light bulb hanging a few feet above her head, illuminating a small space around her. Eve groaned slightly as she sat fully upright, her head spinning, and feeling warm blood run down her face from a cut just below her hairline. "Have a nice rest?" A soft voice asked from the darkness, though Eve could not tell from where. "W-who are you? What's going on?" she asked, her voice a bit weaker than she would have liked it to be. "You don't remember? I've been texting you for a while now" the voice said, coming closer, but seemingly from another place in the dark. "Who. Are. You?" Eve asked in a tone of mixed anger and frustration. Eve watched as a dark silhouette stepped out of the blackness and in to the ring of light.

"You can call me Jim"