Back To The Start (Sherlock fanfiction #Wattys2016)

Chapter Twenty Two: James Moriarty

Just a quick note before the I start the chapter, I've decided that the actor who will be portraying Sebastian for the time being will be Matthew Lewis (aka Neville from Harry Potter). I don't know why but I can see him as Sebastian for some reason. Okay, onto the story

*******

Abigail had some how drifted off to sleep. She was awoken by the sound of someone entering wherever she was. Footsteps approached her. She remained calm even though she was panicking inside.

She felt a warm presence in front of her as a body leaned over and untied the blindfold. As it was pulled off, Abigail got a look at the person in front of her. Still a bit disoriented from the chloroform, all Abigail could deduce was that he was in his mid-20s.

The strange man looked back at Abigail and held up what looked like a plate of food and a glass of water. He laid it to the side while he began to untie her hands.

"Assuming by how smart he says you are, I'll trust you not to run," he told her.

Yorkshire, Abigail noted. A Yorkshire man and an Irish man working together. Peculiar. How would they have even met?

The strange man placed the plate and glass on Abigail's lap and knelt in front of her. Abigail looked down at the food before glaring at him.

"What have you done to it?" she asked. She was surprised at how hoarse her voice was. Probably from lack of use.

"Oh for God's sake, I'm giving you food, just eat it," the Yorkie snapped. "James may be a psychopath, but I'm not."

"James," Abigail noted. "That's your partner."

"Now you shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

Abigail sat back and looked down at the food on her plate. A sandwich that looked pretty appetizing and a glass of water.

"Didn't know I was in jail," she commented.

"Would you just eat it!" the Yorkie snapped again.

Abigail resisted the urge to ask, "Are you sure you're not a psychopath?"

She picked up the sandwich and took a bite out of it. It tasted fine and it satisfied her empty stomach. The Yorkie watched as Abigail ate the sandwich and drank her water. He took the dishes from her and placed them to the side.

"Feel better?" he asked. Abigail nodded. "Good."

"Why?" Abigail found herself asking. "Why is that good? You kidnapped me, I'm assuming you and this James guy want to kill me. Why would you want me to eat and feel healthy and all that crap?"

The Yorkie sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Listen," he said, rather calmly. "We don't want to kill you. We're not trying to hurt you at all. At least, that's not the plan right now. We're just trying to get your boyfriend's attention."

"What do you want with Sherlock?" Abigail hissed. She suddenly felt stronger than before. Knowing that Sherlock might be in danger gave her strength.

"I don't know. James won't tell me," the Yorkie replied. "But I swear if you call him James when he's around I will not hesitate to cut you."

The threat didn't scare Abigail that much, but she knew that he would carry it out if she did use "James"' name in front of him.

The Yorkie moved to tie Abigail's hands again. She began to feel claustrophobic. She didn't want to be tied up again. She didn't want that blindfold put back on. She wanted to at least be able to see. Abigail would've protested if the words weren't stuck in her throat.

The Yorkie grabbed the blindfold and went to place it over her eyes.

"Wait," Abigail managed. "Can I at least know YOUR name?"

The Yorkie hesitated, pondering the question.

"Sebastian," he replied before putting the blindfold back on her eyes.

•

Sherlock sat in his apartment. He was still so tired, but he refused to sleep. Not until Abigail was safe.

He continued to study the note over and over, trying to find some sort of clue. A stain, an ink finger print, anything. Anything that could lead him to Abigail's kidnappers.

Sherlock couldn't help but imagine what he'd do to them once he found them. He would've liked to kill them on the spot, but he knew how much trouble he could get in for that. Beating the snot out of them would be good enough for now.

Sherlock heard the door to his flat creak open but made no effort to look. He knew it was probably Mrs. Hudson.

"Sherlock?" came Lestrade's voice. "What's this about? Mrs. Hudson called me. Abigail's been kidnapped?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "You didn't need to come, I have this under control."

"The police can help you, Sherlock, you know that."

"I can do this on my own, Lestrade. I know how to find him. He's left me this note. He made a mistake, I know he did. I'll find it, then I'll find Abigail."

Lestrade felt sorry for Sherlock. In the past week, he had seemed so happy. Now, he seemed miserable again. The same way he'd been the past year, before he and Abigail had gotten together. Lestrade knew that, no matter how much Sherlock argued, he would help him find who did this.

•

Abigail decided to play possum. She pretended she was asleep so that she could hear what was going on and figure out where she was and how she would escape.

So far, nothing. Sebastian had left after putting the blindfold back on her and he hadn't returned since. Abigail estimated that it had been almost an hour since she ate, but it could be shorter. Everything seemed to be going by so slow. She didn't even know if it was day or night.

Footsteps. Abigail went limp, pretending to be asleep.

"Sleeping," she heard Sebastian say. "I fed her before. Annoying, that one is."

"Annoying or not, she's our bait," a second voice, an Irish one, James, spoke. "Without her, we have no Sherlock. We have to keep her alive and keep her with us. It'll keep him going."

"Why are you so interested in this Sherlock?"

"Everyone likes a little mystery, Sebastian. Especially Sherlock Holmes. He seemed to be falling bored lately, so I've decided to give him something to investigate. The case of the missing girlfriend."

So, Abigail thought. This psycho has kidnapped me, tied me to a chair and blindfolded me so that he could give Sherlock something to solve? In any case, this guy was a psycho.

"What are we gonna do with her?" asked Sebastian. "We're not gonna kill her, are we?"

There was a pause. Abigail could almost feel James approach her. She tried not to tense up, resisting the urge to shrink away from the intimidating body that was no doubtably standing over her at that moment. She kept her head limp to the side and her breathing heavy, giving the illusion that she was sleep.

"I'm not sure yet," she finally heard James say.

His voice sent chills down her body. She felt goosebumps on her arms, but tried playing it off. James chuckled.

"She's cold," he commented. He added in a voice in which you'd probably talk to a baby with, "Poor Abigail."

There was another chuckle then footsteps. Abigail felt something around her body. Something like a coat. Footsteps trailed behind James. Then, a door closed. Abigail lifted her head, wincing as her muscles cracked.

"Sherlock," she whispered. "Where are you?"