Michael Holmes: Secret Son of Sherlock Holmes

The Story of Anabelle Powell 4

Anabelle had just left the hospital and finished her dinner in a Japanese restaurant as she walked out on the street alone. She wasn't afraid even though it was already 11 pm at night and the alleyways were probably filled with strangers and drunks, even though the cold air surrounded her blowing her hair. The lights were dim as it hadn't been repaired for quite some time and there were hardly any cars on the road.

She pulled out her cellphone and scrolled through Facebook. She was waiting for the bus to arrive. She sighed impatiently as the clock on the Big Ben started ticking. A black limo unexpectedly drove to her and stopped there. Just then, she received an unexpected message.

UNREAD TEXT MESSAGE:
Get in the car. -Unknown

Mr Kidnapper over her screwed up. Big time, Anabelle thought as she clenched her fists and was ready to fight.

She has been doing this for all her life anyway.

Don't even bother. There are security cameras surrounding your current spot. If you are not as idiotic as I think you are then you would understand your current situation and do as I say. -Unknown

You're a clever one. But I'm not stupid enough to manipulated by you. -AP

But the thing is, Miss Powell, I've suspected that you would be stubborn and idiotic enough to fight back. All of you pathetic humans are. Sorry but you've given me no other choice. -Unknown

Just then, Anabelle felt a sharp pain poking her neck. She turned to her left to find that someone shot her with a tranquilliser dart. She quickly turns around but no one else was there except the black limo in front of her. She wanted to grab the driver by his neck and chock him to death but her leg suddenly froze and she dropped on her knees. Shit, she muttered softly and let out a few curses before she drops to the ground.

When she opened her eyes again she found herself in an empty car park. She was tied with ropes around a chair, but she realised she wasn't the only one. Detective Inspector Lestrade was tied too, still unconscious. "Hello, anybody?" Her voice echoed through the empty car park. "Detective. Detective, wake up." She shook Lestrade gently, and he slowly opened his eyes.

"What the hell..." Lestrade softly muttered, taking in his surrounding.

"Exactly. Now just give me a second..." She said as she stared fidgeting with the ropes tying her hands against her back. "There. Much better." She said just as she pulled her hands out of the ropes.

"...How!?" Lestrade looked in awe as she stood up from the chair.

Anabelle sighed and then shouted across the empty car park. "Hello, Mr Kidnapper! Come out, come out, wherever you are!" She yelled in a merry tone. She took out a sharp knife from her pocket and swung it like it was a toy. "What on Earth!? Where did you get that from!?"

"Oh. I always keep one just in case." She smirked at the detective. "Do you have a gun or any of the sort?" Lestrade checked but there was none. He must have forgotten to bring it when he went for dinner. Thinking about it whilst he was tied up in a chair, he couldn't help but feel like a total idiot.

"I must say, I'm impressed. You don't seem afraid, Miss Powell." The same man who claimed to be Sherlock's brother in the hospital earlier appeared. He still had his umbrella with him, swinging it before holding it steadily.

"That's because I'm never afraid, Mr Holmes." She smirked as she toyed around with her knife.

"My brother has achieved quite an accomplishment today, new record really, 2 whole people." Mycroft smiled. "And not imaginary or dead. Impressive."

"W-what!?" Lestrade quivered.

"Who said that we were his friends? I've only just met him for less than a day and detective over here just met him on the job for the first day."

"How do you know about that!?" Lestrade asked, struggling with the ropes. "Also, can you please untie me?"

"Was it such a big leap?" Anabelle sighed at the supposed detective and ignored the next question of his. "Anyways, point is, we are not- well, at least I am not his 'friend' of any sorts."

"And yet you saved his life." Mycroft said. "But fine, since you two are clearly not friends of Sherlock then you wouldn't want to listen to my offer, will you now?" Mycroft muttered as he took out a stack of cash from his pocket.

"I'm listening." Anabelle grinned.

"Well, I happen to hold a minor position in the government and make a little sum of cash. Now, you just have to report any information you know about Sherlock to me every week and I might just slip some money into your bank account."

Anabelle smiled. "How do I know you will hold up your end of the deal?"

"Oh trust me. I always live up to the offers I make. But if I do, you're given full permission to kill me. And if you don't hold up your end of the deal, I too will make sure that death welcomes you on its doorstep."

"Deal." Her grin grew wider.