No Shit, Sherlock

Not According To Plan

Today's the day we finally tell Mr. Johnson that we know he's lying. Enola and I have picked up more cases, so we need the time to focus on them. Hopefully, they'll be more entertaining.

"You don't think it's weird that he wanted to meet at an empty restaurant?"

Enola shrugs, "There's three other people here."

I watch the other people and frown, they all look scary.

"Sorry I'm late," says Mr. Johnson.

We nod to him and he sits down.

"Let's get this over with.... we know you're lying about your missing son."

I was expecting him to argue or make a scene but he smiles. A terrifying smile, one that leaves your heart racing, and your skin covered in goosebumps.

Suddenly, the people in the restaurant begin to surround us. Mr. Johnson begins to laugh as Enola and I share confused looks.

"This was too easy," he says.

Enola stands up, I immediately do the same. She looks around cautiously, "What's going on?"

"Isn't it obvious?" a new voice asks.

I look behind Mr. Johnson to see that it's the same creepy man that's been following me. The second our eyes meet my stomach drops.

"This is a kidnapping," he says.

"And an assault, since we only need one of you," says Mr. Johnson.

"But the question is, who do we take?" the unknown man says.

Enola and I try to run but the burly men behind us shove us down into our chairs.

"I'm Marcus by the way," says the man, giving me the same creepy smile.

I glare, "No one fucking asked."

"I say we take his sister."

Marcus shakes his head, his eyes still focused on me. "No, we need him to suffer. We'll take his girlfriend."

"Who the hell are y'all talking about?"

Johnson's eyes narrow in anger, "Sherlock Holmes."

"Really? Because, I don't see Sherlock's girlfriend anywhere."

Enola leans in closer to me, "I think they're talking about you."

I look back at the men, receiving a nod in return.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

A gust of wind blows my hair before something comes in contact with my head, and then everything goes black.

~~°°••°°~~

"Rise and shine princess."

I open my eyes slowly, there's a man standing directly in front of me. He scares me but I don't show it.

"Nice of you to finally join us," Marcus says.

"Why am I here?"

He stands up straight and begins to circle me. "Because we need Sherlock Holmes."

"He was literally in that Johnson guy's house just the other day."

"Yes, but we weren't prepared yet."

His hand runs across my back, causing me to jolt away from him. He laughs to himself and I glare.

"Prepared for what?" I ask.

He stops in front of me and leans closer to my face, "To kill him of course."

My heart stops. I knew we shouldn't have taken that case.

"Yeah right, now where's Enola?"

I try to hide my shaken state, but I don't imagine I'm doing it well.

"She's fine, may have a bit of a headache. I suspect her and Sherlock are on their way now."

I roll my eyes, "Sherlock isn't coming. He doesn't like me, he wouldn't even care if you killed me right now."

He holds a gun to my head. "Wanna find out?"

"Maybe not right now."

He pulls a chair in front of me and sits in it, his eyes trailing down my body. I shift uncomfortably and pull at the ropes binding my wrists together.

"You're really pretty, I might wanna keep you to myself."

I mockingly gag in disgust, "I'd rather take the bullet."

"I'm getting tired of your attitude," he says.

"Well we're gonna be here for a while so get used to it."

~~°°••°°~~

I don't know how long it's been, but judging by my aching body, and the kidnapper's agitation I'd say it's been a while.

Marcus paces back and forth, "He should've been here by now."

"I told you he wasn't coming!"

He paces faster, mumbling under his breath. I laugh quietly but it gets louder until Marcus slams his hands down on the armrests of my chair.

"Why are you laughing?!"

My manic laughter gets even louder, tears are rolling down my face, but I can't stop laughing.

He slaps me, the sound echoes through the room. I slowly turn my face back towards him and smile, ignoring the blood that's pooling in my mouth.

"You crazy bitch," he mutters.

"You still want me?" I ask sarcastically.

He yells and starts pacing again. He's going insane faster than I am, and I'm the one that's tied to a chair.

"I need to go find him," he mumbles.

He walks up to me and ties a piece of cloth around my face, covering my mouth. I try to spit it out but can't. He gives me one last look before marching out of the room.

At least it's quiet now.

My eyes wander around the room, there's a few lit lanterns, but it's still dim in here. The room must be larger than I thought.

As I look around I realize that there's faded lettering on the wall in front of me, I squint my eyes a bit and am finally able to read it.

I'm in the old carriage repair warehouse, not too far from the train station, but at least twenty minutes from my place.

I once again try to break loose but fail, he definitely tied these ropes tight. Hopefully, someone will find me soon, but I'm very doubtful of that.

"I don't understand. Where is he?!"

Marcus marches back into the room, carrying a half empty bottle of whiskey. His movements are very quick and sloppy, and his eyes are panicky. The man is drunk, and he doesn't seem like a friendly drunk.

He rips the cloth off of my head, making my whole face burn intensely. I let out a hiss of pain and he leans closer to me, his lips are inches away from mine. I lean back as far as I can and he smiles.

"I think I'll just keep you for myself."

"I think the fuck not you blubbering asshole!"

He leans over me and cuts the ropes from my wrists, once he's done I bolt to the door. However, I don't make it very far before he grabs my hair and yanks me back.

"Where are you taking me?!"

He says nothing and suddenly shoves me into another room. I spin around to see him but he slams the door in my face, and locks it in place.

Well, at least I'm not tied to a chair anymore.