It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

13 - Bad Time To Have A Moral Code?

"I've been meaning to ask by the way - " John began to ask his question as he and Sherlock walked through the front door.

But the question wasn't processed by Sherlock. Instead, he noted that Mrs Hudson's door was closed. She never closed it. Especially when people she knew were here. Something was wrong. He could sense it, feel it in his gut even.

"Yeah, almost..." He replied, not really sure what he was answering, as he walked over to Mrs Hudson's apartment door.

John watched the detective do this, slightly freaked out and hoping that his friend was just joking around by acting like a spooked animal, "She's probably resting Sherlock, there's no need to unnecessarily disturb Mrs Hudson." With that John headed upstairs to Sherlock's flat.

But Sherlock stayed by the door, gently placing his hand on the handle, easily opening the door. More alarm bells were going off. If Mrs Hudson did decide to rest, she would have locked the door, just in case of any intruders.

"Mrs Hudson?" He called as he walked in.

Immediately, he saw her slumped in her chair, not in the kind of way you would normally have expected to find some who, say, simply fell asleep. Her arms were hanging over sides of the chair and her legs were poised straight. He wasted no time in checking her pulse and whether she was still breathing or not - both of which were fine. She would be -

THUD.

Sherlock's head immediately looked up at the ceiling, his mind already on his friend, "JOHN!?"

Racing upstairs and through the already open apartment door, he looked left, and caught sight of John's feet peeking out from the entrance to the kitchen. Rushing over to his friend, he saw a cut on the side of his head.

"John? John, can you hear me?" The detective shook his friend gently, earning a quiet groan.

A look of concern flashed upon his face and before he could process the creaking of the floor behind him, he turned his head to meet a heavy boot to the face.

* * * * *

Elizabeth awoke to a quiet humming coming from the woman who had previously ambushed her in 221B. It was soft, haunting and most of all intimidating. Was it a children's nursery rhyme tune? Her head was too foggy to work it out. Hissing as the throbbing at the back of her head began to consciously settle in, Elizabeth tried to move but soon found that she was bound to a chair.

The humming turned into a deep, dark chuckle, amused at her pain. As Elizabeth came to her senses, she found that she was in a house of some sort - not abandoned, but new? The smell of fresh paint filled her nose and it made her eyes water slightly. White was the colour of the walls and plastic sheets covered the holes where the windows would soon be placed. There couldn't be anyone near by - this had to be a new housing development.

"If I decide to make you scream, no one will hear you. If that's what you're wondering anyway." The woman walked in front of her, where Elizabeth could now see and watch her now, "I never asked, before, if you remembered me or not?"

Fatigue overpowered the need to speak so all she answered with was a vacant expression.

"Didn't think you would. You were still quite young when he brought you along for a ride. He took you to my home. You robbed me. Jim took everything that I love and cared for. Now, I'm going to take away the one thing he cares about too. Then he'll know how I felt all those years ago."

Rope had been used to bind her arms behind the back of the chair. Perhaps if she strained hard enough, she could snap the rope? Or sprain or break her wrists but that was beside the point. The rope didn't feel very thick - it could work but she would need the woman to leave before she could try anything.