A Study in Reason

Chapter 16

He dragged her up the stairs away from the basement to a room lit by so much artificial light that she was momentarily disoriented by the contrast it created to the unlit basement.

He pushed her to the floor, throwing something over her. A purple cocktail dress. She heard a grunting and shuffling around the room, but in her dazed state, the noise didn't really register.

"Put it on," he ordered. It was the first time she'd heard his voice and it rooted her to the floor. He wasn't a monster. His voice was soft, intelligent, sophisticated. It terrified her even more, causing her heart to stop it's frenzied beating.

Her eyes were adjusting to the light and she was now able to make out finer details of the room and the man holding her captive. She could see every tiny crease in his polished leather shoes, every stray thread on the cuffs of his pressed black pants. If she strained her eyes upward, she saw the silhouette of a curly head haloed by the light hanging from the ceiling. The face changed shape and she saw a flash of white teeth.

"Evie Wise, I presume then," he said. "Sherlock Holmes, don't worry. We're here to help."

30 minutes earlier...

"Okay," John said suspiciously. The taxi stopped at a set of traffic lights.

"Pull over," Sherlock ordered suddenly. The taxi obeyed.

"What did you see?" Clara asked immediately, leaning further towards him so she could see past him out the window. Sherlock ignored her, indicating they should be quiet with a casual wave of his hand.

A dark figure, hunched against the cool night air glanced either side of the road, opened a door and dissapeared through. There was a minute of silence.

Finally and without a word, Sherlock unfolded himself from the car and crossed the street.

When John and Clara joined him he got down to business.

"John, Clara. You two secure all the exits. Don't let him escape. I'll go in and find the basement door. When you're finished, text me everywhere you've found and then come in through the front door. If I'm right, you won't meet any resistance until you join me." Clara nodded. John answered by pulling a handgun from his waistband. Sherlock turned and left without another word, heading for the front door.

Five minutes later, Sherlock, John and Clara were all standing beside the door to the basement of the house. They were standing in a small, but lavishly furnished room full of love seats, comfy chairs and a changing screen with intricate designs on them.

"He's already gone down," Sherlock whispered. On cue, a muffled scream sounded from below. Clara could barely hear it from where she was, standing beside the door. Sherlock indicated silently that they should back away and find somewhere to hide. Clara chose behind the screen, which was closest to her. John joined her there.

The door opened and a loud struggle entered the room, making Clara's heart stop.

Do something, Sherlock!

Directly in front of her, but on the other side of the screen, something was dropped to the floor. There was another struggle, this one sounded different and caused John to leap up.

"Here," he said, and handed her the gun. He got up and left. Clara crept out from her hiding place in time to see John push a man against the wall. Clara placed the barrel of the gun on the man's forehead, over John's shoulder.

"Don't. Move."

Sherlock was talking.

"Evie Wise, I presume." Clara glanced over her shoulder at the scene; a thin, pale girl lying on the floor, paralysed with fear, Sherlock standing over her with an air of triumph that came with finishing a case.

"Nice try, lady," came a voice in her ear as something hard connected with the side of her head, forcing her back, onto the floor and causing her to drop the gun. John was also on the floor, but reflexes honed from years of living with Sherlock meant he was on his feet before she had time to fully comprehend what was happening. Sherlock and Jameson were already out the door.

"Call Lestrade," John told her as he left, tossing her his phone. "Speed dial two." She fumbled for the phone and did as she was told.

"John? What's happening?" he answered after the third ring.

"You need to get over here now," Clara said. "We found the girls and the guy who had them. I'm still in the house but the guy is on the run and armed, I think. Sherlock and John are already in persuit."

"Jesus. Whatever you do, stay there. I don't need another civilian mixed up in this."

"Just get over here!" Clara told him and hung up. She then turned her attention to the girl on the floor.

Evie was still on the floor, trembling and crying silently.

"Hey, it's okay," Clara said softly. "He can't get you anymore and the police are on their way." The girl sobbed, louder this time. Clara stood, decided she wasn't going to get through to the girl and tried the basement door. It was unlocked and she opened it easily. A scrambling was heard as the door opened and she almost laughed in relief. The rest were still alive, then.

"Hello?" She asked quietly. "Katherine? Alice? Michelle?"

Silence. "My name is Clara. I'm going to get you out of here. The police are on their way."

A strangled sob from the corner of the room.

"Can you all walk?"

"I... I think so," came one quiet voice.

"Good. The man who as holding you captive isn't here. He's being chased down by my friends and the police hopefully-"

"This is the police! Hello? Clara? CRIKEY!"
Clara smiled, a flash of white teeth in the dark. "That'll be Lestrade. Come on."

Clara went back up the stairs and called Sherlock's phone as uniformed men with flashlights swarmed down into the basement.

"Clara, are you alright?"

"John! Where are you? Where's Sherlock?"

"Uh..." There was the faint sound of a fist fight going on in the back ground. "Busy," John finished. Clara grinned.

"Have you got him?" she asked eagerly. A pause.

"Just about."

"Where are you?"

Ten blocks south of where you are," John replied. "Is Lestrade there yet?"

"Yeah, got here a couple of minutes ago."

"Good. Stay there." Clara laughed.

"Not a chance."

*

Clara stepped out of the taxi cab and ran down the alley where she could hear the muffled sounds of a fight still going on in the dark.

Both John and Sherlock were fighting Jameson now. The man had an impressive stamina and it was slowly wearing the other two down. With a final push, Jameson threw Sherlock off him, his stumble causing John to fall to the ground.

Clara didn't have time to think. She sped after the man, following him as he disappeared around a corner. John called after her but she ignored him. Even after the fight and the chase Jameson was fast and getting away. She was going to lose him.

A gunshot split the night air.

Jameson fell, blood steaming down his ankle where the bullet hit him, rendering it useless. Sherlock and John pushed past Clara and tackled the guy, ensuring he won't be getting up in a hurry. Clara threw the gun to the side, shaking. She had never fired a gun before and it left her ears ringing and her hands trembling. She pulled John's phone out of her pocket.

"Hey, Greg. You better get over here now. We've got him."