Find Me (BBC Sherlock Fan Fiction)

Chapter 6

Karachi

She gave him the predatory, challenging smile he'd been expecting and he speculated she might not even be able to control her responses to men, her automatic reaction to any comment always linked to some kind of sexual challenge. He pitied and despised that flaw in her nature.

'Don't do that. I don't have time for games. I need to be at the airport in less than three hours and I have a lot of work to do first.' He gestured. 'Struggle. Try to get out.'

Her defiance dropped away and she thrashed against the blankets for a while before he judged it was enough and released the wide leather straps pinning her across the upper arms and thighs and she sat up on the bed, shaking out her hands to restore the circulation. 'Next?'

He passed her a set of handcuffs without comment. She looked at them dispassionately for a moment. 'Three hours is long enough for what you want, you know.' The corner of her mouth quirked into a half smile. 'Three minutes might be long enough if you were wearing these.'

He knelt at her side, snapped the metal closed and actively tried to hurt her.

She shook him off after a while and examined her wrists. 'These handcuffs you bought are too expensive, there aren't enough sharp edges. Try twisting as you pull.'

He complied, following her instructions until her wrists were red and sore, and enough skin cells had been transferred to the handcuffs to facilitate a positive DNA match. 'Can you stand?' he asked. 'I've taken a pint of blood; you might experience some dizziness.'

'I'll be fine. Although next time don't forget the tea and biscuits.' She attempted to stand, lost her balance and ended up flat on the floor, her manacled hands braced against the cold metal.

'Excellent improvisation, just hold still a minute.' He stuck a pin in the warm bag of blood, squeezed it out onto the floor in an artistic spatter, then heaved her upright by one elbow. Ensuring her bare feet smeared the blood he propelled her across the room as roughly as possible, remaining entirely detached and taking no pleasure in manhandling her at all. None at all. He pushed her back against the wall and she raised her arms above her head without being asked.

'It might be more authentic if you, say, took one of those leather straps off the bed and tied me to that hook in the wall with it. Up there, look.'

He stepped back, considering, then nodded. 'Improvisation.'

She shrugged. 'Experience.'

The strap went through the manacles and was then looped over the hook leaving Irene on tiptoes, immobilised and vulnerable. She didn't know she was supposed to be vulnerable though, because her eyes flashed amusement and possibly even approval at him in a way that was quite unsettling. He focused on the first blow, anticipating where the blood might fall when she was hit, squeezing the bag he still held to ensure the splatter pattern would look realistic.

'Do you really think he's going to fall for this? A bit of blood and a fake beating. It's not that I don't appreciate being rescued, but this plan is never going to work.'

He threw some blood at the wall, covering her cheek in fine droplets. 'Explain why.'

'The terror cell for one thing. I was minding my own business in India.'

'Running a fraudulent adult chat line,' he murmured.

'Minding my own business, when I was snatched off the street,'