Sherlock knew the instant he regained consciousness that he wasn’t where he had fallen asleep initially. Before even opening up his eyes he could tell that what he was lying on wasn’t the soft, lumpy couch in the living room at Baker Street, or even the firm but comfortable bed in his room. He couldn’t hear the traffic, no matter how light, that London streets seemed to always hold. In fact, he couldn’t hear anything at the moment.
And he wasn’t wearing anything, for that matter. He normally slept in pyjamas at least, never in the nude in case John saw him, no matter how small the chance may be. The man was extremely unobservant when it came to some of Sherlock’s habits and he slept more frequently and regularly. Sherlock tried to make a habit of sleeping only when John did, if he had to sleep at all.
He scrunched up his nose in irritation and opened his eyes a crack, annoyed. Then he realised just where he had been sleeping. He sat up and looked around to get a better look.
It was a cell.
Not just any cell, mind you. It was not like any other that Sherlock had ever seen, counting those of the Yard or when he was at rehab. This cell appeared to be fairly clean, with pale blue and white walls, a toilet and sink in the corner. Sherlock figured it was roughly twelve feet by twelve feet, just enough room for one or two people. It was these things which had led him to the conclusion that this room was indeed a cell. What really stood out though, was the fact that there was no door. Just a giant, clear wall opposite to him.
In the few seconds it took to process this, he heard a muffled noise. Well, a lot of noises. On the other side of his cell, he saw that his was not the only one in the vicinity.
Across what Sherlock assumed was a hallway was another cell. Filled with monkeys.
It was at this point that he started to panic.
Where the hell am I?
And that’s when he noticed the aliens.