It was getting late. The sky was dark and Molly was getting ready to leave St. Bart's. Sherlock was still there, working on something to keep himself occupied. He had been waiting for hours for Abigail to return.
Molly poked her head in the lab. "Hey. I'm going home. You probably should, too."
"I'm waiting," Sherlock replied.
"Maybe she went home. You should text her and see."
"I've already texted her three times. She hasn't reply. Either she has her phone on silent or she's still at her brother's and didn't hear it go off."
Molly raised an eyebrow.
"How'd you know-?" Sherlock gave her a look. "Oh. Right. Well, you should still go home. You seem tired. I'm sure Abigail will text you or call you whenever."
Sherlock let out a sigh. He knew Molly was right. He couldn't wait here for Abigail all night. She didn't even say she was coming back to St. Bart's. She could be back at 221b by now. There was also the possibility she went back to her apartment, but that was highly unlikely.
Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf and walked out with Molly. She jabbered on about her day, but Sherlock tuned her out, as usual. The two parted ways as Sherlock climbed into the first cab and took off to 221b.
He rested his head against the cool glass, watching London as it zipped by. It was uncharacteristic of him, but he was suddenly feeling tired. Like he could close his eyes and drift off right here in the cab. But he forced himself to stay awake.
The cab pulled up in front of 221b. Sherlock paid the cabbie and climbed out. Mrs. Hudson greeted him as he walked through the door.
"Welcome home," she said with a smile. "I just got back myself. Where's Abigail?"
"I thought she was here," Sherlock said. Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Huh. Must have gone back to her flat."
Sherlock climbed the steps to his apartment. As he came to the door and began unlocking it, he decided to call Abigail to see if she was home or not. He opened the door to hear a buzzing sound. Abigail's phone. At Sherlock's feet sat Abigail's phone, glowing, indicating that she was getting a call.
The screen was cracked, leading Sherlock to believe it had been dropped. He pictured Abigail walking into the apartment and being hit over the head.
He shook his head, erasing the image as if it was an etch-a-sketch. There was nothing to hit her with and there were no indications that she hit the floor at all.
"Chloroform," Sherlock mumbled to himself.
"What was that?" Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock hadn't heard her come up.
"I know where Abigail is," Sherlock replied. "She's been kidnapped."
•
Abigail woke up, but everything was still dark. She could feel the blindfold tied tightly around her eyes. Her hands were tied to the back of a chair. She began to panic. She couldn't remember what happened. The last thing she remembered was visiting John.
Abigail closed her eyes, not that she needed to since she was blindfolded, and decided to use the mind palace Sherlock had helped her to create.
~She watched herself enter the apartment. A man was standing at the door.
No, Abigail thought to herself. There were two people. Two men. One chloroformed her, the other praised him for it.
Abigail pictured the two men standing by the door. No. They weren't standing by the door together. She remembered footsteps, even if they were faint at the time. The other man was sitting somewhere. She pictured him in Sherlock's chair.
Abigail watched herself walk through the door. The man by the door advanced, placing a rag against Abigail's mouth. She thrashed and fought against him until she went limp in his arms. The second man got up and walked over to look down at the unconscious blonde.
"Good job, Sebastian," he had praised. All Abigail was able to deduce was that he was Irish.~
She was kidnapped. Being held God knows where for God knows what.
Abigail didn't scream. She knew that was a bad idea. She stayed silent, waiting for her kidnappers to return or make some sort of noise to let her know they were there.
Sherlock, she thought. Please help me.
•
Meanwhile, Sherlock was looking for any clues to who had taken Abigail. Mrs. Hudson stood off to the side, terrified at the thought of Abigail being kidnapped. In the past year, Abigail had become like a daughter to Mrs. Hudson.
"Anything?" she asked Sherlock.
"Not really," he replied. "Besides the fact that it was two kidnappers, one of which chloroformed Abigail while the other sat and watched. They picked the lock and waited for Abigail to return. Once she did they chloroformed her and carried her out so they wouldn't leave any drag marks. They don't know the phone was left here. Not yet anyways."
Mrs. Hudson didn't question how Sherlock knew all this. In truth, she knew that explanation was nothing to Sherlock as he can and has done better.
"There's something on the coffee table," she said. "Looks like a piece of paper."
Sherlock walked over to the coffee table and knelt down to look at the paper. It was a note, written in neat handwriting.
"I have your girlfriend, Sherlock Holmes. -M"
Sherlock felt his anger boil as he shot up and yanked his phone out of his pocket. Mrs. Hudson took this as her cue to leave. Sherlock furiously dialed Mycroft's number and waited for the older Holmes to answer.
"What do you want?" was the first thing he said when he answered.
"I want Abigail back," Sherlock hissed.
"What the devil are you talking about?"
"I got your note, Mycroft. 'I have your girlfriend.' Signed 'M'," Sherlock explained. "What's the matter? She refused to work for you and get information on me so you had to kidnap her? I knew you were low, but I didn't know you were that low."
Sherlock heard Mycroft chuckle, which just increased his anger.
"Sherlock, if I wanted information on you that badly, I'd follow you myself."
"According to Abigail a year ago, you do."
"That was a year ago, brother dear. People can change. But I'll let you know that I do not have your girlfriend. Congratulations on that by the way. Never thought YOU'D get a girlfriend."
Sherlock hung up. That was one lead that was gone. While Sherlock didn't trust his brother as far as he could throw him, he believed Mycroft when he said that he didn't kidnap Abigail.
The burning question still stood. Who was M and what did he want with Abigail?