The Coffee Shop

Chapter 7 - Wednesday 5th April, 22:34

Keep your mouth shut was his only coherent thought - a tight blindfold dug into his eyes. He wasn't sure if what he heard was real or not, for he was so disoriented and scared, and confused. He could not remember the last time he had eaten, could not remember the last time he was conscious. All he knew was that he was a fool.

He wondered what his parents would think, if they knew where he was now. Tears sunk into the fabric.

Suddenly he felt two hands grab his sides, and without warning he was lifted up and placed, forcefully, back down again. He wasn't wearing any shoes, and he felt cold water seep into his socks. He could faintly smell the metallic scent of blood.

James Grant could not move, and he was petrified.

Suddenly, the whole ground vibrated; he could feel it reverberate through him. An engine. Movement. The sound of the wind. Distant cars...

And water, so much water. It roared.

"You're safe." An unfamiliar voice murmured through the noise. "Do not panic. Everything is under control. You've nothing to fear."

James began to shake violently - from the cold or sheer terror, he could not tell - and tried to speak.

"Duct tape." The voice said. "Do not try to speak. You can't. Let me do the talking. You're just going to sit there, and listen closely, alright?"

Dazed, casting around for the source of the voice, James nodded.

"You will do exactly as I say. I'm going to remove your blindfold, and when I do you will not be disturbed."

And James felt the blindfold being tugged off his head.

He blinked. Before him stood a man, of reasonable height, who looked quite similar to him, and who was not entirely unfortunate-looking - he had dirty blonde hair and piercing green eyes. At least, James thought they were green; it was hard to tell.

Because, he could see now, it was dark, and he was on a boat, and if he looked behind him he thought he could recognise city lights, but he was not certain.

His instincts told him to rip off the duct tape, but as he tried to move his hand, he looked down, and nearly cried out in despair, for his wrists were tied together with rope. Looking up, his eyes widened in horror, he gazed at his kidnapper desperately.

Maybe if he was clever about it, the man would take pity on him, and he could find a way to escape, swim back to land if he had to. Right now, there was nothing but water and the stars above him in the clear night sky.

They mocked him.

"My name is Edward." The man said, sounding remarkably composed. "This is my boat, Elizabeth the Second. We are journeying out to sea, and then we will take the English Channel to France.

"You are very essential. The Holmes's are investigating your disappearance as we speak. We need to make a statement - like Moriarty."

James bowed his head, appearing defeated. This was deliberate - he was actually trying to take the duct tape off his mouth with his hands, but in a way that would not be obvious to Edward.

"I admire your courage," The man continued, unaware. "We can both agree. He had the right idea, he wanted to watch the world burn. And proving a man like Sherlock Holmes wrong, over and over again... well, you and I have that mutual respect in common."

James gripped the corner of the duct tape, and shivering with nerves, tried to take it off, with great difficulty.

"He's dead, of course, but his legacy lives on... through us."