Downloading... [Sheriarty AU] {Completed - Edited}

Chapter Twelve: Injured Idiots.

Okay. Jim changes his mind. He's going to slap Irene, not Sherlock. No, scrap that. He'll slap them both.

The woman that was on the stairs. Irene!

Now she stood at the foot of the stairs, smirking at Jim like she'd just won the right to have a tea party with Prince Harry and all the other pretty single guys with a status.

So much for Irene being everyone's friend. Jim certainly didn't feel like she was his damn friend.

The creepy guy, who Jim hoped got lung cancer, stood then and openly drooled over Irene. Jim was a little worried the guy would get a little too happy in a situation where it would be wildly out of place.

"Where's Sherlock?" Jim questions Irene, glaring at her.

He knew he was right to take a dislike to her.

Irene opens her mouth but instead of replying, she sighs. After a brief pause, she quickly turns to the side, fist raised and knocks the man to the side. He falls to the floor, unconscious from just a single hit.

Relief. Nothing but relief fills Jim.

Irene hadn't betrayed them. Still didn't make Jim like her a whole lot. She was like that annoying cousin that you really, really hate but you do love them, you just never admit it because they're so god damn annoying.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side..." Jim trails off, chuckling a little.

Irene flashes him a smirk before she searches the unconscious man's pockets. It doesn't take her long to produce a key. So tosses it to Jim who just manages to catch it.

"C'mon, Jimmy, you've got a computer to hack."

"Don't call me that," Jim frowns before he works at releasing himself from the chain.

When he's free he joins Irene and hands the key back. She pockets it before heading for the stairs. Jim follows, not up to staying down here.

"Where's Sherlock?" Jim asks again.

They enter a hallway and Jim glances around quickly. Looks like an abandoned warehouse of some kind.

Surprisingly, Jim was pretty calm. He doubted anything could be as scary as waking up in pure darkness, alone and chained to the floor.

"We're going to get him now. He's currently chained to a wall."

Jim's eyes widen. "Wow. Whoever's in charge of this is one kinky fucker,"

Irene glances at him, unable to keep her laughter in as they walk briskly towards another door. Jim smiles at her before she comes to a stop outside a door. It's marked with a number 5 but other than that it's just a plain white door. Eerie.

"Right. I'm going to go in first. They all know me and think I'm on their side. I'll shout when you can come down, or if I need you down there"

Jim nods to her, becoming serious now.

"He.. He'll be alright, yeah? They won't have hurt him?"

"Honestly, Jim? I have no clue," Irene gives him a sad smile.

Jim nods. He would have preferred she lied to him and said that Sherlock would be fine. Not that he'd ever admit out loud to being worried about the irritating detective. It was human to hope people weren't injured. It didn't mean anything.

Irene pushes him away from the door so he's against the wall.

"Stay there unless I call for you. Don't move into the doorway."