Him, Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 8~ Tracking Kicks

-----John POV-------

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 I hope Sherlock and Willow will just hurry up. I'm tired and I want to get to bed. I decide I can just text Sherlock. I text him and he doesn't respond. I tap his number on the screen and put the phone to my ear. I listen to the fifth ring and I'm about to hang up, but he answers.

 "Sherlock? Where are you? I want to go-" I stop talking when I hear his ragged breathing. "Sherlock?" He breathes in sharply.

 "John," He breaths in between his words. "She's been taken." Sherlock is starting to catch his breath.

 "What?! Who, Sherlock Who?" 

"Willow, John! They took Willow!" 

"Who is they?"

"I Don't Know, John." He's furious. 

"Have you told the police?" I hope he did. Who would want to take Willow.

"No." 

"Of course you haven't, just go back to the flat I'll handle things here." I try calming Sherlock down, but I already know it won't help.

 "John, I'm going to track the kidnapper." Sherlock hangs up before I can respond.

-----Willow POV-----

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My eyes lift open to complete darkness. There is a dim light in the distance. I let my eyes adjust to the lighting. My body aches terribly and where I am is not the place I want to be. I am tied to a chair, my mouth taped. I look up towards the light. The only light I can see is a dangling light bulb swinging above my head. I look around frantically all that surrounds me is concrete wall. My eyelids feel heavy again and I drift into unconsciousness.

I wake up again but now there is a man standing in front of me. There is also bright white lights blinding me. I feel the tape being slowly ripped of my face. I keep still showing no intentional pain. 

"Why does he want you?" He emphasizes the last word as if he hates me. Which it is obvious he does hate me so. But I am oblivious to his question. "You're so pathetic. You're nothing like that Sherlock guy." The word Sherlock picks to my attention. I look up at the man. He is the massive one that dragged me away. 

"Can I help you?" I say with sarcasm and a smile. Blood falls from my mouth as I say the words. What has he done to me. He glares at me with complete hatred. 

"Why are you living at 221B?" He demands an answer. I smile knowing that he won't get anything out of me.

"You won't get anything out of me, even if it was to know my favourite food." I laugh. His hand swipes across my face painfully. 

"Tell Me."

"My favourite food?"

 His hand is in a fist ready to punch. I tense before the hit comes. It's fast and painful. There's a ring on his fist as well, cutting into my cheek. The hit causes me to fall over on my side. I am still tied to the chair and my nerves are going crazy. I can taste blood in my mouth and water stings in my eyes. He starts kicking my abdomen, hard. 

"Tell me." he says through gritted teeth.

"Ok, ok. It's cheesecake." I start to cough up blood.

The man starts kicking me over and over and over. I can't feel any part of my body. My eyes blur. I see Sherlock running through doorway and making his way toward me. Then the man rammed his foot into my face and everything goes black.

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