"Did somebody call for a medic?"
She was John's best friend, a bubbly energetic and slightly sarcastic combat medic who had a taste for adventure and Sherlock Holmes was absolutely in awe...
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Marnie Hart cringed in pain as she opened her eyes to the most perplexing situation she had ever been a part on. Her head seared with blistering pain, scorching behind her eyes and she cringed against the strain as her eyes batted, glittering in discomfort as they pulled open. Her throat was parched, lips cracked and dry and her entire body feeling completely and utterly drained, she felt hollow in her bones, energy excavated.
Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back, a hard chair beneath her body and the scratchy fibres of the rope twisting to wear away the soft skin of her wrist as she weakly struggled, focused on self preservation despite the debilitating lack of strength that left her movements slow and inconcise. Her eyes, when open and adjusted to the world around her, fell upon a peculiar environment.
She was in an apartment of some sorts; an incredibly high-end apartment, it was beautiful and she was sure she'd appreciate it if not for her current predicament, the interior was a mirage of greys and blacks, modern. The Combat Medic's uncomfortable chair was placed in the centre of the room, facing a slick black television and she stared at it for a moment before her eyes finally cast downwards and she cringed at the sight of herself.
The evident change of clothing was proof enough that somebody had man-handled her while she was asleep, undressed and redressed her and she felt nauseous just at the thought. Though the vibrant pink that she was faced with also wasn't much help in soothing her unease. Bright pink lingerie, matching the phone from the case and there was no doubt in Marnie's mind that the two things were connected. She tried her best not to be uncomfortable but she was half naked, in scantily covering silky lace pink underwear in a room that looked painfully like a showroom, tied up and with no captor in sight- this wasn't at all how she expected her day to go.
"Hello?" her voice croaked, her eyes glaring at the blue tarpaulin stretched out beneath her chair, under her bright pink heeled feet- Marnie didn't want to know the meaning of it. Marnie had never been much of a girly girl and the bright pink, as well as paining her eyes to see, made her stand out like a luminous neon sign. She had far too many questions for her aching brain to comprehend- Where did she even start? Was it time to panic yet?... Why hadn't she panicked yet? Surely screaming would be completely futile but should she try it anyway? But more importantly- what the hell was happening here?
"Hello" an uneven male voice returned and she froze as it swept through the room from behind her, out of her view thanks to the tight bindings holding her down. It was creepy, a voice that in one word- had managed to spike uncertainty through her veins, his voice seemed to rise and fall unevenly across the word, higher in the places where it should be lower like broken static or a faulily calibrated siri. Marnie's gentle wriggling against the bindings shuddered once at the sound and now actually facing the captor- she had no idea what to say or do. What to ask first? "I'm sure you have lots of questions Marnie, how about you get some off your chest?"
"Who are you?"
"Jim Moriarty" he returned, uncaring if she knew and that seemed to startle her more than it should- he had kidnapped her, shouldn't he be keeping his identity a secret in case she told somebody?... That just implied that she would never have the opportunity to tell anybody which was even worse- she was helpless in this situation, all she had was her voice. The name 'Moriarty' seemed so painfully familiar to her, where had she heard that name? Why couldn't her brain comprehend where she knew it from? It was as if the hit had temporarily cut off half her thought processes... At least, she hoped it was temporary.
