Repens

“Oh, we’re going to be evicted,” John whined, breaking Sherlock’s concentration.
“We aren’t going to be evicted. If Mrs. Hudson knows her niece even a little she’ll know what happened. Or at least she’ll believe us when we tell her.
“In a perfect world perhaps.”
“Don’t be dramatic, John. This situation has enough dramatics as it is. You know what type of criminal he is. He has plenty of resources and eyes around the city. We have to play this one very careful but it isn’t as difficult as it seems. There has to be some fault or miscalculation in his plan. He hasn’t been around for very long and I imagine he hasn’t taken too many hostages in his short career.”
“What if you can’t keep your promise?” John suddenly demanded.
This sudden outburst grabbed Sherlock’s full attention. Had John been paying any attention at all? He crossed the room and picked up his violin. The last time he had played it was when she was here, arguing with him about something that seemed so childish now.
“I hardly ever make promises and I never make a promise I cannot keep.” He began to play a similar tune to the one he played the night Irene was found supposedly dead.
The two men kept to themselves for a while. Each stayed silent as Sherlock played and John tried to read. The sun was starting to go down and John was becoming extremely anxious. He wondered how Sherlock could be so calm. The brilliant man was obviously coming up with some kind of scheme that would begin in another few hours. But with each passing hour, John couldn’t help but think of Stephanie. Was she alright? Were they torturing her? Had they done any kind of permanent damage? Before he could work himself up, Sherlock suddenly stopped playing and just stared out the window, gazing into the orange and golden sky.
“Are you alright?” John asked, rarely seeing this almost human expression on his mechanical best friend.
“There is something about her, isn’t there? She’s intelligent but also clever and charmingly witty. The woman has a matureness in her presence but a free, sweet young spirit about her. And that endless smile.”
Sherlock’s voice trailed off and that was when John became worried.
Mrs. Hudson burst through the door pale and in a panic. This was the very first time she had ever come in without knocking at least once. She couldn’t find words for a moment. Looking from Sherlock to John, she was completely beside herself.
“Tell me she’s with you. Tell me you know where she is!”
“Calm down, Mrs. Hudson. Have a seat,” Sherlock said in a gentle manner that was extremely odd coming from him. He took the terrified land lady and placed her in his chair.
“Boys, please, tell me you know something. Anything!”
Sherlock looked at John in hopes that he had a sensitive answer for the dear sweet old woman. There was no easy way to tell her what had happened. And the messenger was going to be the one to take the beatings. When John shrugged and turned his gaze to the floor, Sherlock let out a heavy sigh.
“Mrs. Hudson, your niece followed us during one of our cases this morning and was taken as a hostage,” he quickly blurted.
“Sherlock!” John yelled at his insensitive friend- just when he thought the machine might actually have some sort of feelings.
“What?! Oh my gracious. You’re lying!” the woman shrieked.
“We’re terribly sorry. She was following us and so was the criminal. It was all just bad luck and timing.”
John’s words didn’t help as much as he wanted them to. Mrs. Hudson began to cry and wipe her teary eyes. It was unthinkable. The girl had been eating breakfast at her table just hours ago. Now, she didn’t even know if the sweet dear was alive. Something like this had been somewhat expected. Stephanie had always been one for danger and adventure.
Sherlock’s gaze of stone changed into something John had imagined hundreds of times but never expected to witness first-hand. It was almost as if the machine was showing something other than indifference, maybe even emotion. Sentiment perhaps? The calm Sherlock took a short deep breath before silently leaving the room. The doctor figured he had been caught staring at an improper time. With a sigh of his own, John ran his hands through his hair and carefully gathered his words. Mrs. Hudson sat sniffling in a stupor.
“He promised her that he would rescue her,” he stated feeling sick to his stomach.
“He what?” She glanced over to the doctor in complete shock. “He never makes promises.”
“That’s what bothers me,” John groaned, afraid of what surprises the next several hours held. “Do you remember the way he acted when Irene Adler supposedly passed away?” The shaky woman nodded. “It’s sort of like that.”
“I don’t understand,” she confessed.
He didn’t want to say the words out loud, thinking them was bad enough. This had always been a ticking time-bomb, Watson just always thought it would happen under much different circumstances. This one had been special from the very start but never had he dreamt things would happen this quickly.
“Mrs. Hudson, something happened today more shocking than the kidnapping of your niece.”

When she came to, she was sitting in a chair with her hands bound behind her. It was cold and dark, just like every kidnapping scene she had seen in films. But now she was the frightened hostage. Five different voices were heard from the next room. If she kept silent, maybe they wouldn’t notice her being awake. This moment of privacy was the perfect moment to look around the room for anything that could be helpful later on.
There was a table across the small room to her right with a few pistols and cartridges lying out, maybe twenty feet away. An old bar stool was at her left about ten feet away but it didn’t look heavy enough to knock a large man unconscious if she were to hit him with it- maybe it could do enough damage to a knee or leg giving her just enough time to escape. Sawdust and metal shavings were all over the floor, from making and customizing their equipment no doubt. A small pile of aluminum cans and bottles were spotted in the far corner, mostly alcoholic beverages. This was all from a quick glance but before she could look closer, an evil chuckle echoed and bounced from one concrete wall to another. Chills ran down her spine.
“Good morning, love,” grinned the kidnapper. “I was wondering if you were going to join us soon. Another hour or two and I was gonna smack that pretty little face to wake you up.”
Saying nothing, Stephanie reminded herself of the promise that had been made to her. Those words, especially coming from him, were going to be what she held onto for dear life. Replaying those last few seconds over and over was going to be what kept her strong. He was coming for her. She only had to hold on a little while longer. Losing hope or giving up were not options, no matter what they did or said. Survival mode had just started.
“You’re an odd little thing. Most women carry around some form of identification, but not you.” He waited for some sort of reply. All women hostages were easy to get information from so he figured this one would be the same. Her young mind would be effortless to pull from. The simple scare tactics would work nicely, or so he thought. Jumping forwards, only inches away from her face, he growled, “Who are you?!”
Stephanie continued her blank stare- men like this were like dogs, they could smell fear. Her objective was to stay emotionless and as calm as possible despite what was going on around her. She used every meditation trick she had ever read about, quickly and silently testing each one.
“I said what is your name?!?!”
She didn’t budge at his louder and angrier roar. He reminded her of the beast from the Disney movie. His hand smacked across her face, leaving a stinging sensation she forced herself to ignore. Her pulse rose as he circled around her with a monstrous glare. When he made his way back in front of her, he stuck his rough scaly nose against hers.
“I’m not asking you again. That smack was only a warning. If I have to ask again, I’m pulling out my blade.”
Trying to remain calm, the brave girl decided to have a little bit of fun. “My name is Cassidy Kolresh,” she answered without a hint of emotion, grinning on the inside.
“And what were you doing following those two this morning?”
“I don’t know them. I thought the shorter man was someone I knew from university. Then you showed up,” she lied, only letting a fraction of her nerves show.
“Do you stalk everyone you think you recognize?” He was suspicious, possibly more intelligent than she was giving him credit for.
“Old ex,” she shrugged.
“Alright, Cassidy, we’ll take good care of you until the annoyance and the pest come to retrieve you,” the ugly oaf muttered in an unpleasant way, hissing her false name. “And when I say we’ll take good care of you, I mean you’re tonight’s entertainment.”
She was suddenly more nervous than she could ever remembering being. Sherlock and John were on their way and were going to come through the door at any moment, or at least that’s what she was going to keep telling herself until she heard that low thick voice.

The sun was setting and time was running out. Sherlock paced in front of the window with a thoughtful scowl as John sat on the sofa in anxious silence. Mrs. Hudson had returned downstairs to gather herself after yelling at the boys for an entire thirty minutes. It was almost seven o’clock when the land lady came upstairs looking rather pale.
“Sherlock, someone dropped something off for you and he was a rather unpleasant looking fellow,” the stressed woman announced.
Gently taking the letter from her, Sherlock was doing his best to be as caring as possible. John stood in suspense and waited for instructions. But the supposedly heartless detective just stared at the letter, even reading it more than once. He suddenly smiled and briefly closed his eyes.
“Mrs. Hudson, your niece is extremely clever and you should be very proud of her,” he said while patting the confused worried woman.
“Sherlock, that might be the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed John, even more shocked than Mrs. Hudson.
“I say nice things… sometimes.”
“Well, what did the letter say?” John impatiently asked.
“The clever girl gave them a clever false name,” Sherlock grinned, almost adoringly. When the other two only gawked at him, he chuckled before reading:

Mr. Holmes,
We have Cassidy here and will not harm her unless you do not meet us as the factory before eight. She awaits your arrival quite bravely but we have ways of breaking those with strong spirits. Do not come and she we be at our disposal and of no more use to you.

“Cassidy? She gave them that name? She hates that name.” John was completely puzzled.
“Yes, John, she hates that name. But that is the name that will protect her. She’s alive because they had to question her to even get a name. If she is giving them any information at all, they will accept it as the truth. These are childish criminals, new to the world of crime. A true criminal would have been able to tell that she is clearly not a Cassidy at all. A true criminal would have brought us something more than a petty little letter with the girl’s alleged name. Fear not, Mrs. Hudson! She will be home by ten o’clock and probably starving. John, come with me.”