"Hello? Hello? Are you still there?" a girl's voice asked as lights turned on over Sherlock, who was sprawled face first on top of a table. Groaning, he pushed himself up to his arms, putting one hand to the side of his head.
"Yes. Yeah; no, I'm- I'm still here. I'm here," Sherlock replied, weakly. He looked around and noticed that he was in a small rectangular room with black walls and flooring. Someone had put his belstaff coat on him, something he didn't previously have on.
"You went away. You said you'd help me and you went away," the little girl stated, tearfully.
"Yes, I know. Well, I'm sorry about that. We- we- we must have got cut off. Um..." Sherlock remarked as he turned onto one elbow and shook his head, "How- how- how long was I away?"
"Hours. Hours and hours. Why don't grown-ups tell the truth?" she questioned.
"No, I- I- I- am telling the truth. You can trust me," insisted Sherlock.
"Where did you go?"
Sherlock looked up and saw a large metal grill in the ceiling, the night sky above. Although the sky was mostly cloudy, parts of it cleared and showed a full moon. Anita would have loved to see it, though if they stayed out to see the moon she would definitely have a cold the next day. Sherlock slid his legs around to the side of the table, still thinking about Anita. To say he was worried would be an understatement.
"I'm not completely sure," Sherlock replied as he sat on the edge of the table and looked around at the walls before slowly standing up.
"Um, now, I'll tell you what. You- you're got to be really, really brave for me," he said as he leaned down and picked up a nearby lantern from the floor.
"Can you go to the front of the plane? Can you do that?" he requested, walking across to one of the walls and holding up the lantern so he could see.
"The front?" the little girl asked.
"Yes."
The light from the lantern helped show the many pictures that had been stuck to the walls. All of the nearby one were large photographs of Sherlock from when he was a child. Anita would have enjoyed the sight of them, most definitely pointing out something that only she would have been able to notice.
"That's right; the front."
"You mean where the driver is?" she clarified.
"Yes, that's it," he answered, still looking at the pictures.
"Are you there yet?" Sherlock questioned, not expecting the response he got.
"Yeah, I'm here," John replied as he stood up abruptly and realized he had been sitting in water.
"John!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Yeah."
"Where are you?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know. I've just woken up. Where are you?" asked John, looking around at his surroundings.
"I'm in another cell. I just spoke to the girl on the plane again. We've been out for hours," Sherlock explained.
"What, she's still up there?" John questioned.
"Yes. The plane will keep flying until it runs out of fuel," Sherlock answered as John raised his head to look upwards.
"Is Anita or Mycroft with you?" Sherlock asked, spinning his wedding ring rapidly on his left hand. If Anita was separated again, Sherlock was going to raise hell.
"I have no idea. I can hardly see anything. Anita? Mycroft?" John called out. Sherlock stood anxiously waiting for a response. Any response at all.
"Five more minutes," he heard a female voice muttering and sighed softly in relief. John looked around, reaching a hand out and feeling Anita's shoulder.
