Chapter 10: Another Dead End?

John Watson was the first to regain consciousness. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a very dimmed room. He was lying in a bed with soft pillows and a thin blanket was covering his body. For a moment, John was asking himself what was making him feel so uncomfortable. Suddenly he realized that he was naked in a bed which didn't belong to him and panic rose. What happened? And where was Sherlock? The doctor sat up in bed and looked around. Someone was snoring peacefully right next to him and when he turned round to see who was lying next to him, found it was his best friend.

Sherlock, like him, was naked under the thin sheets but John forced himself to ignore it. It wasn't the first time they ended up in bed together. Not because of love, but for other reasons. John remembered the day Sherlock got very ill with pneumonia at home. He had been so sick that John feared his best friend was going to die. He had been lying four constant nights next to the weak body, keeping vigil over him, making sure his fear didn't happen.

Once they both were drunk after Lestrade's birthday and ended up in the same bed together. It wasn't a pleasant moment, because Sherlock had vomited into the bed and John was forced to clean and change the sheets while still unsteady on his own feet. While he was walking around, alcohol playing its toll on him, his little toe met the end of the bed and all he remembered was a very excruciating amount of pain.

The good thing was that this time neither him nor Sherlock were drunk, but the fact they were sharing a bed totally naked made him feel very uncomfortable. John decided to get up and check the room. Carefully he sneaked out of the bed, put his sheet around his waist and started to walk.

The room wasn't very big, but decorated very expensively. John discovered expensive Italian marble and also elements made of gold. The bathroom presented itself with a relaxing shower and when the blogger decided to use the toilet, he was greeted with a female voice, "Buongiorno Dottore Watson." John had never experienced luxury before, so he felt quite embarrassed when he was confronted with it. While still being confused about what happened last night and waking up totally naked, he had forgotten to close the bathroom door. He was sitting on the toilet, looking at all the golden fittings, when suddenly Sherlock walked into the bathroom, yawning and without a sheet.

"Jesus Christ Sherlock! Give me some privacy, will you?" John yelled.

Sherlock, totally surprised by the sight in front of him, wasn't able to move. "I…I'm sorry. I thought I was alone in this room."

"Well, now you know better. Would you please turn round, so I can finish here?"

The tall man did as he was told and stepped back to the bed. He was a detective, a very good one by the way, but this whole situation wasn't making any sense. They had been watching a very impressive magic show and suddenly they found themselves in a very expensive room, not knowing what had happened.

John returned from the bathroom, still irritated about the latest events.

"So? Where are we?" he asked Sherlock, who was wandering around.

"I guess we are in some kind of hotel room but the fact that there are no windows makes me feel more like a prisoner instead of a guest."

"Someone took our clothes," John said desperately.

"And that's the next thing I don't understand," Sherlock admitted.

There was a knock at the door and a gentle, female voice started to speak, "My master wants me to serve you breakfast."

John and Sherlock looked at each other.

"Master?" John was confused.

Sherlock pushed John in the bathroom, closed the door, wrapped the sheet around his waist and opened the door. In front of him stood the woman, who had served sparkling wine at the show. Sherlock was instantly drawn to her eyes again.

"Hello," he whispered in a warm tone.

"Don't look at me this way. I'm only here to serve breakfast." She put the tray on the table and left without saying another word.

When Sherlock closed the door, John stepped out of the bathroom.

"There has to be a good reason for keeping me out like that," the doctor protested.

"It was for your own safety. Something is not right here and we have to be very careful," Sherlock excused himself.

The blogger sighed and walked to the little golden table where the breakfast was still waiting.

"Wow," he said impressed while inhaling the fresh smell of Espresso, croissants and jam.

"Don't touch it. Maybe it's poisoned," the detective warned.

"He poisoned us once, why would he do it a second time?" John asked, his hunger increasing.

"It would be the third time. First the coffee, then the fog. Remember, we don't know how we ended up here naked."

"So, we are not having breakfast, did I get that right?" John was getting angry. He was starving and yet he wasn't allowed to eat.

Sherlock felt sorry for the whole situation. "Listen, I am sorry for all of this. You were right. We should have enjoyed our last days of vacation."

"It's not your fault. I guess we aren't supposed to relax," John said while sitting on the bed.

Sherlock was walking around again, observing the room for a second time.

"What are you looking for?" the blogger asked curiously.

"Don't know yet. Cameras? Microphones? Lasers?"

"Shame. I thought you were trying to find our clothes," the doctor replied sarcastically.

"I already checked the whole room. No clothes," the detective replied while searching the walls for a hidden exit.

"So, we are forced to stare at each other the whole time?" John wasn't amused and suddenly rose from the bed again. "You know what? Why don't we just open the door and leave? I mean, we are his guests, aren't we?"

The detective gave him a very amused look. "Well? If you want to show yourself to the public, I won't stop you."

John blushed for a second, then stepped to the door. "You know what? I don't care if anyone sees me. There is nothing special about my body, so I take the risk." And with these words the doctor walked to the door and tried to open it. It was locked. With an irritated look he faced Sherlock, who was leaning on the wall, a bemused smile on his face.

"Exactly what I expected," he said, still smiling.

"I don't understand how you are able to still smile in a situation like that. We are trapped, Sherlock! And instead of making fun of me you should try to get us out," the doctor yelled.

Now Sherlock's face became grim. "John, how long have we known each other?"

"Well, must be a few years I guess."

"It's been six years now. And you still believe I wouldn't do anything to get us out of a miserable situation," the detective whispered.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blame you. It's just… I don't know. This whole magic thing is creepy."

"I know. And that's the reason why I told you to stay away from that tray."

John sighed, "I'm sorry. I am just hungry that's all. Last time I was held captive I nearly got killed. Remember?"

"I will never forget that moment. I thought you were dead," the detective whispered.

"Do you think he wants to kill us?"

"No. That's exactly what he doesn't want to do."

Now John looked confused. "Sorry?"

"You heard me. This guy is not interested in killing us." Sherlock folded his hands under his chin.

"So, what does he want from us?" John was wondering.

"He wants us to see."

"See what?"

"I'm still trying to find the answer to that question," Sherlock replied why taking a deep breath.

After two hours trying to avoid getting bored, someone was knocking at their door. Sherlock and John stood up from the bed, sheets around their waists.

"May I come in?" It was a male voice and Sherlock already knew who was asking.

"I hope you are providing us with new clothes," the detective answered unimpressed.

The door opened and Bruno Misterioso entered the room.

"I'm sorry for this precaution but it was necessary for you both that you stay where you are."

"Precaution?" John was getting alarmed.

Bruno just smiled and presented their clothes. "Washed and fresh," he sang and John couldn't help but roll his eyes. This guy was way too crazy.

"You washed our clothes?" Sherlock thought he was in the wrong movie.

"Yes. After my show it's necessary that all people got their clothes washed." Bruno wasn't lying.

"And why is that?" Sherlock wasn't satisfied yet.

"Well, the fog you inhaled after the show is very intensive. If this substance is still on your clothes, it can be absorbed through your skin and when it does, you would get tired while driving home. I guess you can follow me now…"

"Of course, I do. So, you're making sure that everyone is getting home safe," the detective wanted to know.

"Yeah. Some of those people you saw that night are regular guests."

Now John moved a step forward, "And why are you keeping us prisoner?"

"Again, just safety. This is a magic place and it's important that everyone stays anonymous."

"So, are we allowed to leave now?" the doctor wanted to know.

"Not yet, my friend."

"Wait! You're keeping us here?" John was getting desperate.

"Don't worry. Not for long. All rooms have numbers. I will open door by door, so no one meets another guest. That's only protocol. The identity of those people has to stay anonymous."

"So, how much longer before we are allowed to drive home?" John asked impatiently.

"Just another hour and then it's your turn to leave," Bruno assured and stepped out of the room.

"By the way, the breakfast won't kill you," he shouted behind the locked door.

"Wonderful. Another hour in hell," John complained. "Now what are we supposed to do?"

"Well," Sherlock smiled. "Isn't it obvious? We sit down and have breakfast."

Bruno kept his promise and after one hour opened the door to the friend's room. Before John and Sherlock were allowed to leave, they had to be blindfolded to make sure, nothing was seen. While being totally helpless, Sherlock tried to concentrate on his hearing. Their footsteps were producing an echo sound, so it was clear that they were walking in a building made of stone. There was also a little breeze which was astoundingly cold if someone focused on the temperatures outside. It smelled musty, so the detective assumed they were in some kind of basement.

From what Sherlock could tell, they walked around two kilometres before sunlight broke on their faces again. And when they were finally relieved of their blindfolds, they found themselves in front of Bruno's villa. The strange man was smiling at them like nothing had happened. "I hope you had a good time here. Feel free to visit me again if you like."

"Thanks for the offer. I'm sure we will return," Sherlock said with a fake smile and gave John the signal that it was time to go.

When John and Sherlock were in the car again, both men were more than just confused.

"So, what do you think?" John asked curiously.

"I'm not sure yet. Something's not right in there, John and we need to be very careful because I don't trust him."

"What do you think is wrong there?"

"To be honest? I have no idea yet. But when we are back home, I will go into my mind palace and recall the whole night."

They arrived at Torre Suda at 1 PM. When they finally stepped out of the Mini Cooper, the first thing Sherlock did was check the whole car for a GPS tracker. Meanwhile, John walked into the living room and stopped abruptly. There was a fine scent which filled the house. The blogger was sure he smelled roses. But around the house were no flowers, so why should it smell of roses? While still being a doctor, John thought it was because of the blindfold and the drugs he had inhaled. Maybe his brain was still a little bit foggy. He shrugged his shoulders and decided he needed a coffee right now. When Sherlock finally entered the kitchen, he gave John a worried look.

"Take off your clothes!"

"What?"

"You heard me. Just give me those clothes."

"If you want to see me naked you could just ask."

"For God's sake John! Just hand me your clothes!"

The blogger stepped wordlessly into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. When he was naked, he walked out with his clothes under his arm and threw them at the detective. "You satisfied now?" the doctor asked while going for his sleeping room.

Sherlock didn't move but knew instantly that his best friend was deeply hurt when the door closed with a loud bang. "I'm sorry John. It's not what you think it is," he whispered while stepping outside. There, right next to the outdoor shower, he sat down and started to examine all the clothes. He didn't trust Bruno at all, so why not check their clothes and car for any bugging device? While searching every fibre, John had decided to join him again. He had changed into new clothes and was now looking surprised at his friend, who was sitting naked on the ground, his fingers exploring the material.

"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm looking for bugs. Don't tell me you trust him," the detective replied.

"No. Not at all."

"See? Me neither. All I wanted was to check our clothes, nothing more."

"Guess I overreacted," John said while blushing.

"Kind of," the detective whispered calmly.

"Did you find something?"

"Not yet."

"That's good, isn't it?"

Now Sherlock rose from the ground and looked into John's eyes. "He's hiding something. And as long as I don't know what it is, I have to make sure you're safe. I can't risk getting you hurt, understand me? All I ever cared about was you and that will never change. I don't care if I die while saving you, as long I know that you can be there for Rosie."

The blogger stood there, not saying a word. Sherlock's words sounded so real, like he knew something bad was coming. John knew exactly how much his best friend cared about him. Sherlock had saved him multiple times and still the detective had the feeling it wasn't enough.

"What is it, you are hiding from me?" John needed to know. Something wasn't right and as a best friend he deserved the truth.

"I am not hiding anything. It's the whole place that bothers me."

Both men walked back into the living room, sitting at the table. The pandora box was still there, but there was no more music playing.

"It's as creepy as he is," John said while staring at the wooden box.

"Let's talk about what we already know," the detective began.

"Well, he's living far away from the people in a little villa. He's a magician who likes poisoning people and he seems to have a lot of fans."

"Not bad John."

"Now impress me," the blogger said, waiting for the big deduction.

"As far as I can tell from our first visit, he's been doing this for a very long time now. He has a lot of fans, but not from here, as I can figure out so far. Whoever his clients are, they do have money and that's the reason those rooms are fitted with all kinds of luxuries. He's using women as assistants, but more likely they are used as slaves. None of them speaks clear Italian, so I assume they are from other countries like Hungary, Romania or Russia. He says washing the clothes is important to get rid of the toxin but it's a lie. This fog is not affecting us afterwards."

"What?" John was speechless.

"You heard me. It was never about the toxin but deleting the evidence."

"Evidence?"

"Yes, evidence. He wants to make sure that no one can track him down."

"So, what's he doing?"

Sherlock sighed. "That's the very big problem. I really have no idea."

"And what are we doing now? Sit here and wait?"

"No. Of course not." The detective rose from the chair and grabbed the keys.

"Wait, where are we going?" John was running after him.

"Police. I have some questions."

At 3PM both Sherlock and John stepped into the police station again. Nevio was sitting behind his desk, when the detective rushed in in a hurry.

"Mr. Holmes, so you are back again? What can I do to help you this time?"

"Tell me everything you know about Bruno Misterioso."

"The magician? Well, he's well known here. I would go further and say he's kind of a star."

"What's his real name?" Sherlock wanted to know.

"We don't know. He's known here as Bruno."

"So, you don't know his real name, his birthday or anything that could tell me more about this person?"

"No. Why? Is he suspicious?"

"I'm just asking. Have you ever seen one of his shows?"

"I've heard of it but was never invited so far."

"Well, guess the police doesn't have anything useful to tell me," Sherlock said and shook Nevio's hand. John just nodded at the officer and followed his friend with a raised eyebrow.

Outside, Sherlock took a deep breath, trying to hide his rising anger.

"I know Sherlock. I know. This is quite frustrating," the blogger whispered while also trying to calm down himself.

"He's hiding something and we don't even have a clue of what his real name is," Sherlock replied angrily.

John, also disappointed, sighed. "So, what are we going to do now?"

"I'll tell you what I will do," the detective said while grabbing his phone, waiting for the other person to take the call.

"I've heard you are enjoying your holidays so far," a very sarcastic voice greeted him.

"So, you're watching me even in my free time?" Sherlock hadn't expected anything else.

"I have to make sure you stay safe. If something would happen to my brother, how would I be able to fake some tears at your funeral?"

"It's good to know that at least someone knows how to behave at my funeral," the detective countered.

"So, how can I help you, brother mine? You aren't calling without a reason."

"I need your help. I'm looking for a person with an unknown identity."

"Well, do you have anything for me to start?" Mycroft was bored.

"Bruno Misterioso. I can send you a picture from a poster but don't know if that will help you."

"The magician?"

Now Sherlock was all ears. "You know him?"

"Let's say I've heard of him before."

"Can you help me or not?"

"I will check on my data bases. Will call you back."

The line went dead and Sherlock looked confused at John. "How does he know about Bruno?"

When they had returned to Torre Suda, Sherlock headed for his sleeping room, checking memories from his mind palace. John didn't mind and let his friend know that he was going to the sea for a while.

It was a beautiful evening and the blogger sat down on the stones, staring at the sea. Seagulls were floating around and the waves were crashing on the rocks. Salt was forming on his lips while he looked at the blue water. Like Sherlock, John tried to rethink what happened after the show. The last thing he heard was someone begging. But what for? He remembered the voice belonged to a woman. And all of a sudden, he remembered something else. He had been smelling roses, like he had when they first stepped into their house again. Realization hit him and all of a sudden, he jumped up from the stones, whispered, "Jesus Christ Sherlock!" and ran back to their house as fast as possible…