The door swung open and Sherlock stormed into the room, his eyes adjusting to the bright fluorescent light coming from the massive lamps hanging on the ceiling. It was a vast, mostly empty space, the tall windows covered with black paper preventing every ray of sunshine from entering. Sherlock looked round and saw a table in the middle of the warehouse, at least half a dozen men surrounding it. As he made his way over, he heard hurried footsteps behind him, John came running towards him. “Lestrade is still 25 minutes away, he’s on the other side of the river,” John said, slightly out of breath, “Should we wait for him?” “When has waiting for Lestrade ever been a good idea?” Sherlock snapped, “We’ve already lost three and a half minutes because you couldn’t find your bloody phone!”
It had been nearly an hour since he’d received the alarming text messages sent from Molly Hooper’s mobile number. Two pictures; one of the flowery dress she’d been wearing that day and one of the exterior of the warehouse they were now. The photos were followed by a simple text, just the word ‘hurry’. It had taken Sherlock no more than ten minutes to identify the location, but the journey had taken an agonising 30 minutes to the south-east of London.
As he approached the table on of the men turned around and Sherlock felt all the air escaping his lungs. The dark-haired man smiled broadly and clicked his fingers. The six other men scattered like rats, taking their positions across the room. “Sherlock, you’ve made it! You took your time, I thought perhaps you didn’t like our little games anymore,” Moriarty said with a mock-pout. “I’m so glad you decided to come, I would not have liked to see you miss this one.” he stepped aside, allowing Sherlock to take a better look at the table and what was on it.
“Molly,” he sighed as he took another step so that he could see her better. She appeared to be completely naked underneath the white sheet that was covering her body, her hands and feet bound to the table and her eyes screwed shut. Moriarty grinned as he saw the horror in Sherlock’s eyes, “We’re going to have a little bit of fun, she and I. But don’t worry, you can watch, in fact, I insist you do!” He walked back to Molly and slowly, teasingly, removed the sheet from her shivering body and flicked the top of her thigh with his fingers. Desperate not to see the pain on Molly’s face Sherlock looked away. “Look at her!” yelled Moriarty, “I said look at her!” Reluctantly Sherlock turned his head back. “There you go, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” Moriarty said, “Oh boys, you’re dismissed. I think a ratio of seven to one would be cruel. Even by my standards.” He smirked and the six guards gathered near the exit of the room. “Do take Doctor Watson with you, will you? Don’t shoot him, but make sure he won’t disturb us.” John had been standing next to the door, frozen to the spot in utter shock but as the man tried to drag him out of the room, his adrenaline kicked in. He tried to shake them off when one of the guards hit him on the back of the head with his gun, knocking him out. “John!” shouted Sherlock, but the door had already closed.