Repens

All sense of time had vanished a couple of hours ago. Her reasoning told her that she had been here for about twelve hours. It felt like extremely early hours of the morning- the hours of her creative peak that were usually spent writing, painting, or some other creative out. It was during these hours she did her best work, both imaginative and purposeful. For whatever reason, her brain chose these few hours to thrive. But for tonight, this one significant night, she wished she could turn the extra boost off like a switch. These hours were wonderful for thinking and creativity but they had also proven quite dangerous in the past. To put it simply, those who had lived with her in the past knew not to attempt conversation with her after 2AM.

"My aren't you looking… hot."

Jim's voice had been high and childish from the whinny first syllable he had uttered in her presence. Since that minute, Stephanie had become intolerable to his games. His trying to deduce her was irritating, full of half truths, and his going into the physical details of her relationship was too far. Now, as she shivered against the metal chair, the usually well-mannered young woman had been pushed far beyond her tolerance level. He walked through the same door he had entered through during their first meeting. Since then, she found herself somewhere between bored of his cliché actions and curious of how mad he actually was- people like this fancied putting on big shows that greatly exaggerated their already eccentric personalities.

"What are the chances of getting me into real clothes?"

"Oh," he acted surprised as he casually closed the distance between them. "Those aren't real? I'm imagining them? Well, in that case…" Jim was acting as if he was going to completely undress her again right there that instant- as if the first time wasn't humiliating enough.

With pride and spirit still mostly intact, the girl replied, "Actually, they aren't real. They are what your little whores probably use when you make them feel worth more than the dirt you wipe off your shinny black multi-hundred dollar shoes. And you know those girls are, in fact, less meaningful to you than that rubbish left on your towels. You feed off of their fear and their hopes of being seen worthy of someone as mighty as yourself."

The mad man bent over until he was only inches away from her face then sighed, "Such a clever girl." He suddenly jabbed her with something, the room becoming a swaying blur of light. "Too bad it's going to be your fault when he dies." The dark fuzzy figure began to walk away but returned to add, "And this time, my pretty dear, he WILL die."

It was as if he was keeping her in this shocked damaging state to keep her from figuring out what was going on behind the scenes. He knew she was more than capable enough to see beyond the four concrete walls she was kept in. Her mind working at half speed was his only prayer of beating her and Sherlock. The room faded into darkness as she was left feeling dizzy and almost unconscious. Her choices were helpless sleep or maddening confusion; of the two, sleep would be most useful.

Then next view she could process was laying in his bed, the room dark with a summer breeze sliding through the cracked window. The satin sheets felt wonderful against her naked skin. She sat up and glanced around the room searching for something, or was it someone? Alone with the dim street lights and shadows, Stephanie put her head back onto the pillow, feeling more relaxed and comfortable than she had in days.

Without warning, a pair of warm lips were at her shoulder. At first, she winced, remembering the last unpleasant pair of lips to roam around her neck. Then came a calming deep soft voice, the one she had been longing to hear.

"Just me."

She turned onto her other side to find him propped up on his elbow. Sherlock's dainty secret grin, the one reserved just for her, was playing on his heart shaped lips. From what she could see, he wasn't wearing a shirt but seemed perfectly comfortable. To make sure he was real she placed a hand gently against his cheek. The presently sentimental man moved his head until his lips could reach and caress her palm.

"I miss you," she nearly cried when his hand took hers.

But she couldn't remember why she was sad to begin with. Why did she miss him? He was right next to her. How could she be even slightly melancholy with him at her side in their favorite most intimate little corner of the world? Sherlock brought their hands to his chest, near his heart. His chest hair tickled the back of her hand, making him more real to her. Then she felt the steady beating of his heart.

"I'm looking for you, Steph. Everywhere. And I won't stop until I've found you."

She didn't like the urgency in his voice and the sorrowful guilt in his eyes. He was being far too delicate with her, as if she could break at any sudden or rough touches. His feather touches were usually pleasing to her but she couldn't help wanting him pressed against her. When he didn't continue, she felt the need to fill the silent space between them.

"I'm right here," she whispered.

Without another word he pulled her to his chest, exactly as they usually fell asleep. As unreadable thoughts floated through her mind, she couldn’t help taking in every detail around her. There was something about the way her head fit perfectly between his upper arm and just under his sharp chin. Their legs tangled together in perfect knots since the limbs were complimentary lengths. His other arm wrapped around her waist and bent in such a way that his hand rested between her lower shoulder blades. When her free arm wrapped around him in similar manner, only more desperate and afraid, his hips grinded into hers. The feeling sent shivers of longing through her already aching body.

"I'm coming for you, my darling," he vowed with a trembling voice.

His hands slid across her body to her face just before pressing his lips onto hers, hard and determined. A small snarl escaped him as he took a deep breath then came back for more, leaving her completely breathless.

Stephanie was so breathless, so turned on, that she became conscious again. The moment after she remembered the jab and her dysfunctional physical and mental states, she heard Moriarty tell someone that it was time. But all was still black and she could hardly feel her body. There were muffled noises then complete silence. This was the first time she was afraid of the future plans made for her. Somehow, the criminals had made her blind and deaf, leaving her completely defenseless and mostly senseless. It was by far the worst feeling, on every possible level, she had ever experienced in her life.
---
The Baker Street duo were making wonderful progress by ten o'clock. Sherlock had narrowed it down to three buildings. It was 10:07 when his eyes widened, his lips made the familiar "o" shape that John associated with the genius' realization.

"Lloyds TSB," he stated with pride.

"Where?"

"A large bank near the Stratford tube station. The facilities are large and Sebastian would have connections there."

He was going to voice a clever deduction before John grabbed his mobile and grinned, "Let's not waste time. You're clever. No need to prove it this time." He gave a cheeky expression filled with anticipation. "Now let's go get your girlfriend. Shall I phone Lestrade?"

"Good idea. And no, let's keep this as inconspicuous for as long as possible. No need to put more lives in danger than need be."

With that, they were off. To their delight, a cab was quickly hailed. They were across town in minutes after Sherlock slipped a few extra bills to the driver in advance for speeding. The cabby was even bold enough to sneak them behind the building. Sherlock was feeling optimistic until he spotted three other custom cabs parked a few car lengths in front of them. John asked the cab driver to give them a minute but stayed inside, waiting for Sherlock to make a few deductions. Holmes was standing just beside the cab looking all around when the building's back door opened. There were a few thugs followed by a sight that took his breath away.

Stephanie was being escorted out of the bank by none other than Moriarty himself- Sebastian shouting orders to the several large thugs. She was still wearing the revealing lingerie, an extremely short black leather skirt, and high red pumps trimmed in black lace- a touch Moriarty added just to give Sherlock that extra spark of anger. What was worse than her apparel was the black silk blindfold and the ear plugs. He also noticed how she was struggling to walk the short distance (even in heels she always had more poise than this), absurdly pale, slightly shaking, and--

Drugged. Humiliated, drugged, blind, and deaf.

Even though several brain waves were sending his body messages to make a move, he felt perplexed and couldn't bring himself out of his odd frozen state. Very rarely did he ever find himself truly shocked. Yet he was shocked, stunned even, for several seconds as the woman he would gladly die for was pushed into the car by his greatest most evil enemy. Once everyone else had disappeared behind dark tinted windows, Moriarty grabbed something from the cab Steph had been shoved into. With a large cunning grin, he pulled out a printed sign that read TOO SLOW. Holmes' lips snarled just a bit. Jim stared right at Sherlock with the burning eyes the detective remembered from three years ago. The villain's face suddenly grew passive. Sherlock had maintained steady breathing and thought patterns until Moriarty gave a large shrug- as if to say "oh well".

The livid man in the long black coat took a single step. He couldn't hear the dark chuckle of his opponent but knew it had happened. Jim slipped into the cab then the lead car began to roll.
"Quick! Follow them!" Sherlock shouted to the cabby as he jumped inside.

The driver did as he was told and followed the middle car as best as he could through London's first bit of lunch traffic. They weaved left to right, darted red busses, almost ran each light, and continued the fast paced pursuit until Moriarty's car made a wild left turn. Their cab continued forward, growing in speed.

"You missed the turn! I said to follow them! Can't you take simple orders?!" Sherlock hissed from the backseat, nearly standing in the moving vehicle.

The cabby's accent grew thick and more rugged when he replied, "Yeah. I take orders just fine.

Matter of fact, the boss told me to take you lot for a little ride off route."

"You're joking," John gasped, putting everything together.

Staying in his seat went against all of Sherlock's instincts but causing a wreck would do them no good and would surly draw the attention of officers. This thug was planning to drive them all around London, wasting time and distracting them from the hunt. Sherlock saw traffic just a block ahead.

"Jump at red," he whispered to the angry John. He received a nod of understanding.

When the car began to brake for the red light, the two opened their doors and jumped out of the slow moving cab. Both had to run a few paces so they wouldn't fall or get badly injured during the stunt. Passing cars honked and some cursed the two mad men in the middle of the busy street.

They made their way to the sidewalk, both panting and unsure of what to say. When they finally caught most of their breath, John glanced over at his upset and increasingly determined best friend.

"What… just happened?" he asked, not completely sure what to make of what they had seen behind the bank.

After a thoughtful pause, and several deep breaths, Holmes gritted his teeth in rage.

"The cab driver was working for Moriarty the entire time. He knew we would need a ride- a clever way to keep tabs on us. He texted between here and the bank- a warning to prepare the prisoner to be moved."

"Sherlock."

"They drugged her, John," he shouted with a bleeding heart.

"Sherlock."

"She's entirely vulnerable and fully at the mercy of Jim. Now we have to start all over and…"

"SHERLOCK!" The genius fell silent, an impatient stare glaring into the good doctor. "Mycroft just texted me."

John handed the phone over to the clever one.

SO THE GAME IS BACK ON? DO LET ME KNOW IF I COULD BE OF SERVICE. -MH