Danger Nights

Chapter Seven

"You've got to be joking," John said. "If you want someone to do you a favour, never mind save your life, you don't kidnap them and treat them like prisoners."

Mayberry took in the room with a broad gesture. "Does this look like a prison cell to you, Dr. Watson?"

"Depends. Let me walk out of here and I'll give you an answer." Receiving no response, he sighed. "No. Didn't think so. Out with it then. What do you want Alexei to do, specifically?"

"Whatever it is, it's clearly not something I'd do voluntarily," the teenager commented. "That's why you took John too, isn't it? To ensure my compliance."

"Right again, young man. It pains me to say this, but refusal to cooperate will result in grave consequences for Dr. Watson." Then Mayberry smiled, as if to soften the threat. "I'm sure it won't come to that, though. In two weeks, this will all be over and we can get on with our lives."

John didn't believe him. But for now he and Alexei were prisoners, and he felt too wretched for more verbal combat. He ached all over, and the prospect of a hot bath was almost as good as freedom.

"I'll leave you two to freshen up and settle in. I have to see to the 'departure' of my temporary guests." Mayberry checked his watch. John's heart sank as he realized that their abductors- men who'd blindly obeyed orders- were entering the last hour of their lives. "Tomorrow we'll talk about what I expect from you, Alexei."

Then he left.

The two bulky minders approached the bed. "Follow us," one of them ordered.

Alexei's response surprised John. "Very well," the teenager replied, sounding uncharacteristically meek. He crawled to the foot of the bed, slid his feet to the cold stone floor, and stood. "Let's go, John. We're both filthy and I'm getting hungry. We'll find out what this is all about soon enough."

John had been living with one Holmes and in a relationship with another long enough to know phony compliance when he saw it. Alexei's voice and bearing were docile, but his eyes gleamed faintly with cunning as they were escorted into the hall. The boy's lightning-fast glances took in every closed door and open entryway, memorizing everything for later examination and analysis.

John didn't follow suit: his headache had developed into a raging migraine, and all he wanted was a warm soak, followed by darkness and quiet. He shuffled along, content to let Alexei pinpoint a future avenue of escape while he tried to ignore the pain.

The guards led them into a spacious chamber that radiated moisture and heat. Like the bedroom and hallway, it had stone walls, a high ceiling, and vintage furnishings.

We're in a castle or ancestral home that's older than Lestrade's jokes, John thought dully. But where?

Two large copper tubs stood side by side before a glowing fire. They were filled with steaming water and had thick white towels draped over the side. Too desperate for relief to feel embarrassed, John pulled off his ruined clothes, threw them aside, and climbed shakily into one of the tubs.

"Any chance I could have some paracetamol?" he asked as he shifted so that he wasn't facing the fire's glare. The roiling in his stomach had developed into full-blown nausea, making him bite back a groan. When the guards didn't respond immediately, he added, "If not, I hope you don't mind cleaning up vomit. Headache's getting worse."

One of the men made a disgusted face and told his partner, "Be back shortly."

"Yeah, fine." The other man had a soft Eastern European accent that contrasted with his cohort's rough Scottish burr.

John closed his eyes and listened to Alexei undress and climb into the other tub. He concentrated on breathing through his nose and letting the water relax him. His thoughts turned to Mycroft, who'd suffered an equally excruciating headache after the ECT.