August Holmes, Sherlock's Daughter

Chapter Four: Kidnapped

I woke up with a blinding headache. It took me a minute to realize that I was bound and gagged into a chair. I tried to get free, but my bonds were too tight. I glanced over to John and noticed that he was bleeding out of his left temple, but he was awake. Thank god.

"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pockets." I looked up and saw the Opera singer from the Chinese circus glare at John. I made eye contact with the former soldier, he didn't look as scared as I was feeling. Maybe this was a normal thing for him.

I studied the Opera singer more closely. She was wearing sunglasses even though we were in a dark tunnel. Two men stood a little ways behind her. Human made fires lit the grounds throughout the tunnel.

The woman lifted her sunglasses and glared at John. "Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."

"I..I'm not Sherlock Holmes." John said, startled.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." She pushed John back and went through his wallet. "Debit card, in the name of S. Holmes. A check for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Sherlock Holmes. And finally, tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes."

I guessed that the check was given to John earlier today, while I was stuck in the flat with Mycroft. Sherlock had lent John his debit card this morning so we could have gone shopping for groceries.

"I realize what this looks like. I'm not him." John tried reasoning, getting desperate.

I looked around the tunnel. There was no way out, unless I freed myself from my bonds. I took a shaky breath, my head splitting in two. I must have been hit in the head as well. I closed my eyes and focused on if I had any external injuries. Nothing that broke the skin, I concluded.

The woman brings out a pistol and points it at John's head. My breath was caught in my throat. No. John can't get shot. I haven't known him for long, but I realize I did care about him. He has been the only one to make me feel at home, other than Ms. Hudson of course.

I heard John's labored breaths as the woman grinned.

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" She cocked the pistol and grinned at him, while John struggled against his bonds. She clicked the gun in place, and I was relieved to find out it had an empty load.

"It tells you that they're not really trying." She smirked.

The Chinese Woman slides a clip into the pistol and then cocks it at John's head a second time. My heart skips a beat.

"Not blank bullets now. If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive." She retorted, sighing and putting the gun in her pocket.

"Do you have it?" She faced John.

"Do I have what?"

"The Treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about." John replied, struggling against his bonds furthermore.

"I would prefer to make certain. Everything in the west has its price; and the price for her life." The two men from the back load an arrow into the crossbow and point it at me. I started hyperventilating. John turns to look at me apologetically.

The two men come over and pick up my chair, setting me down in the direct path of the arrow. Tears started coming down my eyes and I choke on my gag.

"Where's the hairpin?" The woman asked angrily, her patience was running low.

John struggled against his bonds again. "What?"