6: And One Time…

When Sherlock awoke, his head was fuzzy and his tongue felt thick and furry. He blinked steadily and tried to inhale deeply, shaking off the effects of his slumber. The pale morning sun was shining through the window. Sherlock turned and read the clock beside the bed. 6:38. He rubbed his eyes and stretched languorously, feeling his muscles pop and pull. In the back of his mind, Sherlock was mildly irritated that he'd fallen asleep. There was a reason he needed to be awake all night, but he couldn't seem to put his finger on it. Maybe John would know—

John!

Sherlock sat bolt upright and threw a hand out to the space beside him in the bed, feeling for John's warm figure.

It was not to be found.

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When John awoke, his head was fuzzy and his tongue felt thick and furry. He blinked his eyes a couple of times and tried to adjust the blurry shapes in his vision. John was vaguely aware that he was freezing and something was clamped around his middle, securing his arms to his sides. Ugh, he thought. Sherlock's stolen the covers again, bloody menace. And, for someone who doesn't like touching he's sure got the grip of a giant squid…wait, that's not Sherlock's arm—

Sherlock!

John's vision came into focus with the flood of adrenaline in his bloodstream. He looked down and found himself strapped to an inclined table with a series of thick leather straps. John struggled against the straps, but they had been cinched so tightly that the struggle only created uncomfortable friction. Looking around, he saw that he was in a stone chamber lit with archaic lanterns and torches in the wall sconces. If he turned his head to the right, he saw a long table pressed against the wall, its surfaces covered with objects that glinted in the dull yellow light. If he turned his head to the left he saw… a cage. A cell was set back into the wall on his left, the ugly iron bars thick and a dull grey in colour. John thought he could see indistinct lumps within the cell that were vaguely human shaped. He knew they had to be the missing people that they'd been searching for.

"Hey," John called, his voice whispery and weak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey! Anybody awake over there?"

It took several more minutes of calling before John heard scraping and scuffling from the direction of the cell. In the flickering light of the torches, John watched as two faces appeared behind the iron bars, one male and one female. John recognised them as two of the people that had been taken.

"Bad luck for you then, mate," the man said with a melancholy voice. His pale face was covered in grime and scruff and blood, as were the hands that gripped the bars in front of him. His eyes were bright with fever and sweat dotted his brow.

"It's okay," John found himself saying. "I know who you are and I'm here to help you."

The woman giggled with a bite of hysteria. "You don't look to be in a position to be doing much helping, if you don't mind my sayin'."

"My name's John Watson," John said. "I know your name is Allison, your partner is Catherine. You have a daughter named Iris and you live in Brighton." The woman choked on a sob and tears shone in her eyes. John turned his attention to the man. "I know your name is Leland and your husband is Nathan. You've got two kids and you came down to Chichester from London for your anniversary." Leland bowed his head and pressed it against the bars.

"I came here with Sherlock Holmes," John said. Leland's head snapped up in shock and even Allison's eyes widened. "We came to find you and we're going to get you out. Are Kate and Malcolm in there with you?"

Leland and Allison exchanged glances. "Malcolm is sleeping," Allison said, "but Kate… she passed out a few hours ago and we can't wake her up."

John's heart dropped. "Does she still have a pulse?"

Leland nodded. "It's irregular, but it's there. She's breathing too, but it's slow."

John let his head thump back against the table. Kate had been taken first, so she'd been down here for a few weeks. She was probably severely dehydrated and malnourished. She might have gotten an infection or some other kind of illness sitting in this cold, slightly damp place for weeks on end. John closed his eyes and silently willed Sherlock to find them and find them soon.

"Okay," John said. "Just keep checking on her, please." Allison nodded and a silence fell over the chamber. John caught sight of all the glinting objects to his right and swallowed thickly.

"What have they been doing to you?" he asked.

There was another silence before Leland answered. "She tortures us, Dr. Watson. We've been beaten and sliced… Kate was branded and Malcolm had a tooth removed. I've broken some ribs and some fingers and Allison…" Leland cut off and looked at her, his eyes full of pain and questions. The dead gaze that Allison fixed on John told him exactly what had been done to her and the shiver running down his spine had nothing to do with the temperature.

Allison spoke then. "We haven't eaten properly in days and she only brings us water twice a day. Not that we know days anymore, or nights…or time in general." Allison's head drooped and Leland shuffled over to put an arm around her.

"How are we going to get out of here, Dr. Watson?" Leland asked. For the first time since his imprisonment, Leland felt a glimmer of hope. As Londoners, he and Nathan followed the doctor's blog about the exploits of the great detective and all of his brilliant cases. If there was ever a team to get them out of this place, it would be Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

John sighed as he contemplated Leland's question. "I don't know exactly," he admitted. "But Sherlock is here and he'll find us." He wanted to add especially since I'm here with you now, but John didn't want to downplay what they'd undergone in the past few weeks.

A new voice intruded on his thoughts. "I wouldn't be too sure of that, Dr. Watson." John focused his attention to the right side of the room, where the voice was coming from. Allison and Leland whimpered and retreated to the dark corners of their cell. John watched as a shadow moved forward.

A tall woman with her dark hair in a long braid walked up to the table. She was wearing dark clothing and a red leather jacket, which she removed and threw off to the side. John thought she looked vaguely familiar…he studied her facial features and her physique to see if he could place her.

"Having trouble remembering where you've seen me?" she asked with a thin smile on her face. She barked a laugh and then removed a pair of thick framed glasses from her pocket. She put them on and hunched her shoulders and whispered "housekeeping" in a thin, tremulous voice. Ah…of course… she was the mousy member of the housekeeping staff that had broken into tears when John had attempted to interview her yesterday.

She guffawed loudly as the recognition set on John's face, taking off the glasses and putting them back in her jacket. She strode back to the table and fixed John with a grin of superiority.

"It's amazing what you can do with just a pair of glasses and the right shift in attitude," she mused. "I knew you dismissed me as soon as I started crying for you." She laughed and it sent chills up John's spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

The woman picked up a long wooden staff from the table and walked up to John and traced the object over his face and neck. John tried to pull away from the touch but when he did, she used the end of the staff to force his face back. She jammed the end of the stick into his cheek and came close enough to lean over and whisper in his ear.

"Let's have some fun," she whispered. John was only aware of a whooshing sound before pain erupted from his abdomen as she swung the thick staff down along his ribs. He yelled and tried again to struggle against the leather restraints. She struck him a few more times along his torso and arms, leaving welts and deep red marks that would bruise fantastically. The woman smirked as she lined up the staff to take a crack at the side of his face, when a baritone voice broke from the shadows and made John's heart leap.

"I would not advise that," Sherlock Holmes said. The woman's eyes widened and she spun around.

"How did you find this place?" she hissed angrily.

He smirked at her and merely said, "Elementary, my dear. It was the lavender that gave your secret away."

"Impossible," she spat, assuming a defensive pose in front of the table, the thick staff held aloft in her hands like a broadsword.

"Not impossible, I assure you," Sherlock cooed. "Merely improbable. But I do have to commend you on your methods. They are most… unique and rather ingenious."

John rolled his eyes. "Not the time, Sherlock!"

"I didn't say I approved of them, John," Sherlock said, frowning at the doctor.

"But only you could make a comment like that at a time like this!" John hissed.

"John, everything is under control—'''

"Oh yeah," John muttered sarcastically. "Everything's just peachy from here, thanks."

"You're being ridiculous, John."

"Ridiculous? I'm tethered to a bloody table and she was beating me!"

"Well, she stopped now. Calm down."

"Calm do—oh Sherlock, you are bloody impossible, you know that?"

"Oi!" the woman yelled. She was looking back and forth between the two men. "You two fight like an old married couple."

"We're not a couple," John muttered out of reflex.

The woman snorted. "Riiiiiiight."

Sherlock sniffed. "Arabella Matheson, I suggest you surrender yourself now, seeing as how a police force will be here in approximately three minutes to execute your arrest."

The woman snorted and shifted her staff in her hands. "I don't think so," she intoned. She struck the staff to a stone in the ground, and both John and Sherlock were distracted as a loud rumble echoed through the space. John's attention was drawn upward as chunks of rock and dirt fell down upon him and his table began to slowly tilt backwards. When he was inverted and lying on his back, he immediately saw the source of the sound.

"Sherlock," he breathed. "The ceiling…"

The ceiling above John's head was slowly descending. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't really the ceiling at all, but instead a large chunk of sandstone that was inching closer and closer to John's table.

Arabella took off and ran to the hallway situated behind the table and to John's horror, Sherlock sprinted after her.

"Sherlock!" John yelled. "Sherlock, come back here, the ceiling… this thing is going to crush me! Sherlock!"

Time seemed to slow as John watched the slab creep ever closer to him, the quiet, squeaky hum of hydraulics echoing around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Allison and Leland and Malcolm watching in abject terror.

When the slab was about a metre away from his body and John had offered up his last silent prayers to whoever was listening, he felt a rush of air by his side and looked over to see Sherlock working frantically at the restraints with trembling hands.

"Sherlock, where were you?" John said.

"I was out for a walk, John," Sherlock muttered sarcastically. "I was chasing the woman, where do you think I was?! Just shut up and hold on." The stone rumbled closer.

"If you wouldn't have chased after her, I wouldn't be in this predicament!" John cried.

Sherlock glared at him. "Do you really want to argue about this right now?"

The restraints around John's legs and hips were loose, but the binding around his chest and arms was still in place.

"Sherlock, hurry," John breathed.

Sherlock exhaled sharply and worked feverishly. The stone moved closer still, the hum of the hydraulics never stalling.

Just as the slab began to brush against the tips of John's toes, the restraints loosened and Sherlock pulled John off of the table, gathering him close to his own body and rolling away from the table, upon which the stone now sat.

John was vaguely aware that policemen had filed into the room and were going about with their guns and torches held aloft. He was also aware of the warm form of Sherlock Holmes on top of him, shouting orders to the policemen. The man's planed face swam into focus and John saw worry in the pale blue eyes.

"Get off me," John mumbled, feeling the twinge of his bruises. "People will talk."

Sherlock chuckled in reply and heaved himself off. John lay there for several more minutes, watching as Sherlock went to talk to Detective Inspector Hayworth. John saw the four abductees being escorted from their cell and out the stone hallway, Kate being borne out on a stretcher. It was over… they'd won. John sat up and looked around the chamber. It looked like something straight out of a medieval horror movie.

Sherlock's voice broke into his mind. "We'd been drugged. Ms. Matheson was a member of the housekeeping staff. They put satchels of lavender in the pillowcases and she took the opportunity to lace a few of them with a sleep-inducing narcotic that knocked out both partners. The partners didn't notice they'd been drugged because it felt just like falling asleep. I noticed, however, because I do not sleep as often as the average human. I noticed that the lavender was making me nod off but it took me under before I could get away."

John saw irritation, disappointment, and guilt cross Sherlock's angled face. He stood on wobbly legs and joined the detective inspector and the consulting detective, grasping for Sherlock's arm so he could steady himself.

"So how'd she get them down here?" the inspector was asking.

Sherlock smiled as he offered John a shoulder to lean on, which John accepted woozily, feeling Sherlock's arm wrap around his waist protectively. "That was the rather ingenious part. Have you ever heard the tale of Sweeney Todd?"

"The demon barber of Fleet Street?" John supplied. The inspector nodded in agreement.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "According to legend, Todd slit the throats of men coming to his barbershop and then dumped their bodies down through a trapdoor in the floor of his shop. When I woke to find you missing, John, I quickly set to work examining our room. The window had not been budged at all, so I knew you couldn't have been taken through there. Likewise, the door was still bolted and there were no marks on the carpet to suggest that you had been dragged away. Now, you couldn't have just vanished, so I re-examined every inch of the room. When I was checking out the frame under our bed, I stumbled upon a hidden switch. When depressed, a trapdoor behind the bedframe opened up. It would have been absurdly simple for her to slide a person into the trapdoor and down the slide. After alerting DI Hayworth here, I came down the slide myself and set to rescue you, John, and find the other abductees." He finished with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Brilliant," Hayworth muttered under his breath as he scribbled notes in his book. Sherlock grinned down at John, who elbowed the taller man in the ribs.

"What about the woman?" John asked.

"I tackled her in the hallway," Sherlock said dismissively. "She clocked me with that staff," he said, rubbing his head gingerly. "But I subdued her and she's in custody." Detective Inspector Hayworth nodded in agreement and a short silence fell.

John punched Sherlock's arm. "What took you so long?" he yelled. The detective inspector chuckled.

Sherlock sniffed. "Really, John, can't you just say thank you?"

John grabbed Sherlock's coat lapels and brought him down to kiss him soundly on the lips. Sherlock squirmed a little but as John's lips moved gently but ardently over his, he gave up and kissed him back.

When they broke apart at the DI's embarrassed cough, Sherlock's face was tinged with pink and his breathing was heavy.

"Thank you," John whispered. He let go of Sherlock and began to limp off in order to find the four abductees and check on them, as well as find some medical attention for himself.

"So you two are together then?" John heard the DI say.

"Still not gay!" John tossed back over his shoulder. He could hear Sherlock's baritone chuckles echoing in the hallway and he allowed a small smile to slowly cross his face.

Well... :) There you have it. I certainly hope you found it to be an enjoyable story well worth your time. If you took the time to favourite or follow it (or at least check for it...), thank you so much. Your patience and kindness are the balm to all that ails me. If you left reviews for me, I really cannot find words that can adequately express my gratitude towards you. *bows* You are simply wonderful. :)

If you like what I do, check out my other works and keep your eyes peeled for new stuff that should be coming down the pipeline in just a few days. If you do happen to like what I do... well... thanks. :) I send you all warm thoughts, jam, and eyeballs to experiment on.

Be safe in your travels! Until next time...