[CONTAINS SMUT!] ❗️18+❗️
~~~
Being the youngest Holmes was always quite the journey, especially when you didn't want to show off your talents, maybe even lack of such. Compared to your brothers you were always the 'dumb' one. The teachers saw it, yo...
Placing on your headphones, you let the music flow right through as the elevator took your down to the archives of the library. Your shoes tapped along the ground, the luxury material sounding like music in itself.
"Queen... Victoria... Victoria..." you murmur, the beat of your song dropping causing you to spin around and bop your head before moon walking as best as you could down the aisle.
Twisting open the right door open, there was a sudden crash and bang. No one should be down here but you or Anna, the other librarian certified to check out archives.
"Hello?" There was no answer yet one section of lights shut off making you jump back. Locking every aisle up as fast as possible, the light shut down faster and faster. "Not today, Satan!" You yell, trying to outrun the darkness to the exit.
There a crowd of steps following you close behind which didn't help.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The last light shut off, the door was so close yet so far.
~~~
Holding your breath, a blinding light made you open your shut eyes, ones you kept closed in hopes of foiling the captors plans. "Great job, Y/n," you scold yourself.
"So you are Y/n Holmes?" A Russian accent made you sigh in relief; Not Moriarty.
"Yeah, sorry to disappoint that my name isn't as interesting or weird as my brother's,"
"You do not disappoint, mi princessa," large and buff, this Russian man stepped forward and out the way for a smaller one to reveal himself.
"Cliche," you murmur as he stops and scoffs.
"Expecting more?"
"Expecting scarier," rope scratched against your wrist, the burn making you wince. "Mind loosening this up for a girl?"
"No," a gun was raised to your head. "Tell your brother that he must stay away from our business,"
"Dude, I don't even know who you are, yet alone what case Sherlock is getting high off at this moment," he straightens his posture. "I'm not in the mood, and I have..." you look out the window of the abandoned warehouse. "I have three more hours of my shift-"
"We have had you here for a day, your work has no worth anymore,"
"You've got to be kidding me, I missed my show!" you whine.
"Why is she not scared about the gun?" the short man looked to his larger companion.
"Because that gun isn't loaded and killing me would get the entire British Government on your arse,"
"She makes good point, boss," the scruff man shrugs.
"I'm also hungry, so killing me would kinda be a solution? I don't know, all I'm craving is bread pudding," humming absent mindlessly, the gun handle was smacked across your face causing blood to draw from your lips.
"Shut up, stupid woman," spitting blood laced saliva on his shoes, this caused the buff man to punch your square in the face, his boss hissing for him to back up.
Pain surged right through your body as you shook away the blur of sight. One breath in and you slipped from the ropes, lifting up, the chair smashed right against the small man, knocking him out.
Two chair legs were taken from the crumbled pile and slammed against the large man's head. The rope twirled in your hand, whipping around the man's neck, pulling him down so you mounted his back and pulled. Scratching against his stubble neck, his hands felt weak and went limp against the rope.
Rolling off him and catching each strained breath, you found your boots and coat thrown on a dusty crate. Of course... you fiddled in the large man's pocket and took your phone along with your headphones from a small sack by a briefcase.
"Must be important," you hoist it up after securing your boots and coat on. Music flowed back into your ears as you wobbled with each step, pain taking over every thought.
Lifting your phone up, the map showed you were 3 1/2 hours from 221B via foot.
Brentford.
Your limp became more evident as you started to round out the complex to see the main road, a bus full of festival goers slowing down for you.
"Central London?"
"Just going by, Love," a woman giggles, opening the creaking door up for you. "You look a little roughed up, are you okay?"
"Oh! This? It's special effects, I'm prepping for my friend's small movie and she happily dropped me here to get into character,"
They all laughed and continued to sing as you happily snuggle up against a golden retriever that belonged to the driver of the bus.
~~~
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What? You thought being a Holmes meant you couldn't escape being held captive? Fools
