A day later
Something fell through the letterbox. Sherlock sighed and stubbed out his cigarette, breathing heavily. He rumpled his hair and stood up moving slowly towards the door. He saw an envelope lying on the welcome mat. He picked it up and a tiny silver thing tumbled out. He held it in his hand for a moment before realising that this used to belong to him. His grandmothers ring. The ring that he gave Irene 13 years ago. He flung open the door.
"Irene!" He bellowed, moving out into the hall.
"Not exactly," Said a gruff voice. Sherlock turned to see a thickset man staring at him. "Hello handsome boy."
Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but was met with the butt of a gun, knocking him into the blackness.
...
They took him in, bound and gagged. Irene watched, as she struggled against her own binds. They removed the sack from his head to reveal him. The gruff man held Sherlock's face up to Irene's.
"Got you a present!" He said, flinging him to the ground. He blew a kiss at Irene then walked away.
Irene struggled towards him. Then with bound hands she took the gag off his mouth. "I'm sorry," She whispered. "I'm so sorry." She kissed him feverishly. "I'm so sorry."
He let out a groan in pain.
"What? What?" She asked. "Oh god. You alright?" She touched his bleeding face.
"No, you just..." Sherlock let out a groan. "You kicked me in the nads."
Irene looked down and moved her knee. "Sorry." She whispered.
"It's okay," Sherlock scrunched up his eyes. "Why are we at Southbank?"
"Because." Irene said. "Because it is easier to dispose of the bodies here." She said. She turned to look at their captors who were whispering silently in the corner. "More importantly, if we die here, we won't be found for three months."
"They're gonna kill us?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I tried to run. And I looked to you for help."
"Who is it?" Sherlock asked.
Irene frowned. "I never met a name." She said. "And well... He gets the criminal thugs to do his dirty work."
Sherlock moved slightly.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"I'm trying..." He shifted again. "... To... cut the... rope."
Irene frowned. "With what?"
"A rather sharp stone that has been under my foot since I arrived. Honestly, they really don't think things through."
The gruff man grabbed Irene's hair and pulled her back, holding a gilded knife in his hand and against her neck. "I don't like your boyfriend." He smiled toothlessly. "Now I don't want you to lose your pretty head."
"Don't you touch her!" Sherlock bellowed.
"Or what?" He bellowed back.
"I swear I will not rest till you meet your end."
"Oh... Are you going to kill me?" He grinned.
"That would be too nice."
"Sherlock..." Irene whispered. "Please don't."
"That's right pretty boy. Ye don't want me to get my hands on her flesh." He grinned.
Sherlock winced at the thought.
"Tony!" Shouted one of the other thugs. "Leave 'em for the boss." He was cleaner than the rest of them, with a grey suit and black shoes. The one called Tony smiled and let Irene go, playing with the knife. He walked away and turned his back on them
"Why can he afford a haircut but the others can't?" Irene whispered.
Sherlock shrugged. He shifted again. "There," He muttered. He reached down and pulled his leg binds away. "Very good knots."
"We can admire the craftsmanship later." Irene said. "Get me out." Sherlock said nothing "You're not leaving me are you?"
"No." Sherlock replied.
"Then what?"
"Shut up." He loosened her binds on her legs ready to be kicked off.
"What?"
"Shut up. And go along with it," Sherlock said. "Lie down."
"On this floor."
"Irene!"
"Alright," Irene pretended to faint.
Sherlock looked up at the crooks. "Help!" He shouted. "Somebody help her!"
Tony moved forward a glint in his eye.
"She must have passed out with fright." Sherlock said.
Tony bent down and looked down at Irene's pallid face. Sherlock leaned forward as if pretending to watch her. Then he hit Tony in the face and Irene kicked off her bonds and at the same time hit the crook in the balls. Several of the gang whipped out their guns.
"Stop!" Sherlock shouted. "You can't shoot without killing us. And doesn't your boss want us alive?"
"Don't mean we can't harm you." Said the cleaner cut one.
"Irene, run!" Sherlock bellowed. She took off her heels clicking on the pavement. Sherlock followed, hearing them close behind. He dodged under the bridge and into the sewers. The sound of firing followed rocketing off the stone walls. He felt a sharp pain in his leg and he buckled completely. Gritting his teeth he ran against the pain.