Leverage?

I quickly pulled my phone out of my back pocket, about to dial Sherlock. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Samuelson." Warned the cabbie. "Not unless you want Mr. Holmes to be reading the news tomorrow and hear about a young girl shot and left in a cab on the side of the road." I had to remain cool, keep a level head. I refused to get myself killed in some stupid way and let Sherlock down, nevermind lower his opinion of me. I had to be sharp, keep my wits about me. "You have something to shoot me with, I'm assuming?" I asked, trying desperately to keep my voice from shaking. He raised an eyebrow. Keeping a hand on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road, the cabbie pulled a gun from his jacket. "Yes." We road in silence to two unrecognizable, empty buildings standing side by side. As the cabbie got out and opened my door, keeping his gun pointed at me, I tried to conceal my fear. "Sooooo, you're kidnapping me, right?" I asked casually. He gestured toward building on the left with his gun and I started walking. "I am." "Why?""Because..." He trailed off. Oh dear. This wasn't a many layered answer, was it? "I'm a business man, Miss Samuelson. I have an employer, a job." We walked into the building. "But I also know how people think. I know how to apply the right leverage to right person to work to my advantage." I bit my lip. Mycroft. He wanted to get to Mycroft. I kept my thoughts to myself, reminding myself to remain cool and that Mycroft didn't give a damn about me. He didn't care about anyone. "Have you heard about the suicides that have been goin' round?" I looked at him over my shoulder as we walked down dim corridor after corridor. "Yes." He smiled, nodding his head. "Well. Welcome to my work, Miss. Where I shall do my job. While applying leverage." "Wait, what does that have to do wi-" My mind raced. "They're not suicides." I whispered, remembering what Sherlock had said as we turned into a dark and mostly empty room. "They're murders." The cabbie flipped the light switch and simply smiled at me. He then pointed to a corner of the room, his gun still fixed on me. "Have a seat, Miss Samuelson." I sat in the corner, and the cabbie pulled a roll of duct tape from his pocket and bound my hands. "Are you going to murder me?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant and casual."Miss, haven't you been listening?" He asked, sounding quite exasperated. "You're my leverage. I can use your disappearance to cloud the thinking of my next victim, to arouse suspicion. To weaken the strong. Emotions are a very powerful tool, Miss Sage. If you know how people think and feel, you can find their weak points. You can manipulate them." I scoffed in his face. "You obviously don't know me or the people I associate with, then. Emotions are a weakness as you say, and if you're going after who I think you are, you won't have much luck." He ripped off another piece of duct tape and placed it over my mouth. I rolled my eyes. Great. I thought. This is just. Great. "Don't offend me, Miss Samuelson. I know what I'm doing. This is my living, after all. A word to the wise: you don't make much drivin' cabs." He turned off the light and closed the door.——————————————Back at Baker Street, John Watson made his way up the stairs to 221b. Sherlock was lying down on the couch, eyes closed, fingers steepled under his chin. John stood in the doorway a moment before asking, "What are you doing?" "Nicotine patch." Said Sherlock, sighing. "Helps me think." "Are those...three patches?" "Mm hm. This is a three patch job." A moment of silence went by as Sherlock seemingly resumed his deep thinking. "I just met a friend of yours." Said John. "A friend?" Sherlock's sounded shocked. "Mm, an enemy." "Oh. Which one." Asked Sherlock. "Your...arch-enemy, according to him. Do people have arch-enemies?" "Did he offer you money to spy on me?" Inquired Sherlock, one eye open."Yeah, you, and more specifically Sage.""Did you take it?" "No." Replied John. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes."Pity. You should have taken it, we could have split the fee." "Who is he?" John asked. "The most dangerous man you've ever met and not my problem right now." Another silence. "Well?" Asked John. "You asked me to come, I'm assuming it's important." He sounded irritated. He probably was irritated. "Oh, yeah. Can I borrow your phone?" "My phone?" Asked John. "Mm, don't want to use mine. Always a chance the number will be recognized."  "Mrs. Hudson's got a phone..." "Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting, she didn't hear me." "I was on the other side of London!" John shouted. (John is now reading over my shoulder and insists he wasn't shouting, he just raised his voice. I'll leave the conclusion to you.) "Oh, there was no hurry." Sherlock assured. John sighed, obviously exasperated, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "So, is this about the case?" "Her case..." Sherlock muttered. "Her suitcase. The murderer took it, which was his first big mistake. On my desk, there's a number. I need you to send a text. Two texts, rather." "You've brought me here...to send a text." Said John. "No, weren't you listening? Two. Two texts. The first to Sage. Her number is already in there." John scrolled through Sherlock's phone down to the "S's". "Now type 'He's offered John money to spy on us. And where the hell are you?' Go ahead and send that, then-" "Hang on, hang on!" Exclaimed John. He finished typing the first text and sent it. "Ok, now the other one?" "The number is on my desk. These words exactly: What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Type and send it, quickly." He leaped up from his position on the couch and paced around the flat a moment before settling in his armchair. He didn't remain there long before he got up again and retrieved the suitcase from under the desk.

——————————————I don't know how long I was crouched in the dark corner. My hands were securely bound, (I'd tried the first half hour to get it off.) and even if they weren't, the door was locked. I didn't have anything to break the window with, all the room had in it was a table. I did manage to get the duct tape off my mouth however, by working at it with my tongue. If anyone happened upon me, I could scream for help at least. What annoyed me the most was my phone was in my back pocket; and I'd heard it go off several times, but there was no possible way for me to get at it. So I sat in the dark, a helpless damsel in distress. Yay. (Sarcasm. I was not excited in any way to be in that situation)What must have been hours dragged on, till I could have sworn I heard a car. Most likely the cabbie leaving, since I hadn't heard the car till now. Unless someone was arriving.... but no one came. Not for awhile, at least.

——————————————After a full evening of a "dinner out", going on a wild goose chase attempting to catch a taxi cab, and curing John of his psychosomatic limp, the boys arrived back at the flat. (They're both reading as I type and insist I clarify that it wasn't a dinner out, it was a stake out. Not a steak out. Haha.) Mrs. Hudson came into the hallway sounding distressed. "Oh, Sherlock." She said. "What have you done?" An alarmed look came over Sherlock's face as he hurried up the stairs with John close behind him. Apparently, judging by the fact that almost the entire police force was searching the flat I had just cleaned, Sherlock was in trouble for withholding evidence and potentially hiding drugs. Poor John was in disbelief and tried to reason with Lestrade, but that's a difficult feat at times. Chaotic bickering broke out (probably because I wasn't there to stop it.) and Mrs. Hudson added to the turmoil by coming up the stairs saying something about a taxi. Then someone finally pointed out I was missing. Yeah, I really felt the love. (Sherlock insists that the fact I was still gone crossed his mind. But what the hell did he do about it?") You can probably guess After what John described as "Five minutes of Sherlock insulting everyone in the room, raising his voice several times, and utter chaos", Lestrade said he'd go out with a group of people to find me himself (Bless him. At least someone cares.) Sherlock and John were able to track the dead lady's cellphone, which they determined the murder must posses, and everyone was shocked to see it was there at Baker Street. Everybody started to search, except for Sherlock, who remained standing in the middle of the room. Suddenly, his own phone went off. "COME WITH ME." It said. Ominous. Sherlock headed towards the door. "Where are you going?" Asked John. "Fresh air. Popping out. Won't be long." And he hurried down the stairs, John calling after him.

(I'm going to have difficulty retelling this part of our story, as Sherlock is very discreet and mysterious about it all. A real drama queen, he is.)Apparently, the cabbie took Sherlock to the building across from me. They sat down at a table, and the cabbie pulled out two tiny bottles, each one with an identical pill. One was closer to Sherlock than the other, and he had to choose between the two; the cabbie would take whichever one he didn't. Sherlock kept insisting it was a 50/50 chance, while still remaining cool and collected. The cabbie hinted at having me strung up dead somewhere because I took the bad pill. I don't know why he didn't try to kill me, then. (When relaying all this to us later, Sherlock insisted he wasn't phased by the news of my death, which really shows just how much I'm loved.) The last important price of information was the cabbie was being sponsored to kill off people, by someone with the name "Moriarty." Ooh, scary. (Sarcasm) Well come to find out, Sherlock didn't have to worry about choosing a pill, because John Watson arrived on the scene. But which building, which building? He had no way of knowing, so he hurried into the one on the left, with me in it. The door was unlocked, and he ran down the corridor, about to turn, when a loud voice caught his attention. "Oi! Doctor Watson! In here!" He looked about the corridor and ran to the door the voice was coming from. He unlocked it and went in, flipping on the light. There I was, my hands duct taped behind me. "Sage!" He knelt down beside me and tore at the duct tape. "I can't get it." He muttered. "Hang on." He pulled a pocket knife from his pocket and sliced through the tape. "Thank you!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet and rubbing my wrists. "Sage, he's got Sherlock." Said John. Oh crap. Sherlock, not Mycroft. It was much more dire than I had first imagined it.

——————————————We ran from corridor to corridor, room to room. "He must be in the other building." Said John. "Wait! John, come here!" I said, looking out a window. There was Sherlock in the building across from us. His back was turned to us and he was holding something in his hand. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit I didn't do anything the first few seconds; I just stared, transfixed on the scene. John called out, but we were too far away to be herd. Sherlock raised his hand to his mouth, a small white and pink pill in between his thumb and pointer finger. "No." I whispered. A sudden and loud "bang" startled me, and I dropped to the floor. John did the same. "You shot him??" I shrieked. "Sherlock? No, of course not. The cabbie, yes." John said. -——————————————After inconspicuously leaving the building and making our way out in the parking lot, police cars started to arrive. Lestrade jumped out of one and ran over to us. "You been here long?" He asked me. I looked John, knowing I should probably stay quiet. "Well, Sage has." He said. "I just got here by tracking the cellphone and ran into that building. I found her tied up in one of the rooms." "I think Sherlock's in the other building, we couldn't find him in the one I was in." I added. Lestrade quickly gathered a group of men via walkie-talkie and went into the building, returning soon after with Sherlock. John was ordered to remain outside the taped off area, while I was given a blanket "for shock" and told to take it easy. I went and sat next to Sherlock on the back of an open ambulance, and smiled to myself when I saw his matching blanket. "So?" I said after a moment's silence. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "The cabbie's dead. Someone shot him from the building you were in." He said quietly. I acted surprised. "Well, I heard a shot when John came in and found me, but we were already outside the building when we heard it." He looked me in the eyes. "It wasn't me, if that's what your getting at." I said. Before he could respond, Lestrade came over to us."Listen, Sage." He said, addressing me. "Did the murderer explain why he kidnapped you?" "Leverage." I stated. "He wanted to mess with Sherlock." Sherlock scoffed loudly, and I rolled my eyes in response. "Sherlock, did he give any inclination that he had Sage?" "He did, I can assure it didn't 'mess with me' as Sage suggests." "Wouldn't dream of insulting your reputation in such a manner." I retorted sarcastically. "Ok, ok." Lestrade cut us off. "Listen, there's no sign of the shooter, he cleared off. And we've got nothing to go on." I could feel Sherlock glaring at me, though I avoided eye-contact. "Well, I wouldn't say that. The bullet they dug out is from a handgun. That kind of shot from that distance and that weapon? You've got to be not just a marksman, but a fighter. Probably someone accustomed to violence. He didn't fire till I was in immediate danger though, so strong moral principles." My breath caught in my throat as his description began to sound more and more like John. The last thing we needed was John put on murder trial. "You're looking for someone with a military service history, nerves of steel..." I saw him glance at John. Crap. "You know what, Lestrade, ignore me. Ignore everything I just said." "What?" Lestrade sounded shocked. "Why have I got this blanket on me?" Sherlock said suddenly. "It's a shock blanket. It's for shock." I said. "I'm not in shock." He said in annoyance before adding "Actually you know what, I am. Everything I just said was the shock talking." He started walking away, and I followed him. "Wait, you two! I've still got questions!" Lestrade said. "He's in shock!" I said. "Look, he's got a blanket!" "Sage, you're not helping!" Said Lestrade."And I just caught you a serial killer!" Added Sherlock. I shrugged. "More or less." I muttered. Lestrade sighed. "Ok." He looked from me to Sherlock. "We'll pull you two in tomorrow, off you go." "Thanks!" I called over my shoulder.  "Don't mention it." Said Leatrade under his breath as Sherlock and I walked over to John. "Dreadful business, this." Remarked John as Sherlock tossed his blanket into a police car and I followed his example. "Good shot." Said Sherlock to John. John looked at me and I shook my head. "I didn't tell him." I mouthed."Well yeah, must of been, through that window." Said John cautiously. "Well you'd know." Sherlock said. "You need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't think you'd serve time for this, but we want to avoid the court case." John cleared his throat, looking around nervously. I turned to Sherlock. "Hey, um...sorry for getting kidnapped." He scoffed, but smirked out of the corner of his mouth. "Just try not to let it happen to often." That released some of the tension that was hanging thick in the air, and we started to laugh. "Stop! We can't giggle, it's a crime scene!" John said. We ducked under the caution tape. "Dinner?" Sherlock asked. "I'm starving." I said, forgetting it was close to 1:00am and I'd already had dinner with Mycroft. "Sherlock, that's the man there, the one that offered me money to spy on you and Sage." I looked to where he'd pointed to see Mycroft. I laughed out loud before earning glare from Sherlock and clapping my hand over my mouth. Mycroft strode over or us. But really, offering John money to spy on us? That was a low move."So, another case cracked, Sherlock?" He said sarcastically. Huh. Maybe that's where I get it from. "What are you doing here?" I asked casually. "As ever Sage, I'm concerned about you. And Sherlock." "Mycroft, don't drag me into your teenage drama issues." Sherlock retorted. "Funny." Said Mycroft. "From what I gathered, you involved yourself." "Sorry, who is this?" John asked. "Mycroft Holmes." I said. "The British Government, Sherlock's older brother, and my guardian.""Oh." John said simply. The two Holmes' started to bicker over ridiculous things, while John and I stood awkwardly. After a minute or so, I'd had enough. "Ok ladies, clam down, you're both beautiful." This earned me two nasty looks before Sherlock decided I was right. "Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home." With that, Sherlock turned and walked away, John and I following. "Sage!" Called out Mycroft. "I don't want to force you to come home." I stopped in my tracks. "But...be smart." I spun on my heel to face him. "The danger that Sherlock faces everyday is-" I held up my hand. "Thank you for your concern." I said simply. "But I think I'm quite alright, thanks. I bid you goodnight, Mr. Holmes." I curtsied mockingly, then turned and ran to catch up with the two men getting into a cab. "Oi! Wait up, boys!"