Awake

Only he knew that his right hand, which had taken countless lives, had stalled for a full two seconds the moment he brought the knife down on her. That was also why he had made the incision deeper.

But the tears that vanished into her hair had made him unable to move the tip of the knife for a moment. Fortunately, he was still the victor in the end. His will was unbreakable.

She was very pale, so pale that she practically reflected the light. The fingernail-sized sample of surface skin tissue in the glass vessel was almost transparent, while a red mark about a centimeter long had appeared on the arm she had exposed outside the surgical gown.

He had deliberately made the incision deep, but he hadn't dared take much. He had scraped off a little dead skin to frighten the girl. He knew exactly what he had done, but since he had managed to steel himself and use the knife this time, he would surely be able to do it again.

Wonderful. Her influence over me is weakening.

"Thank you for becoming my first guinea pig. As repayment, I'll make sure to stitch your wound up nice and pretty." That meant he would definitely stitch it up ugly. Sitangna had already come to understand his twisted sense of humor.

Moriarty was very close to her, his breath washing over her ear as he spoke, but Sitangna had no time to pay attention to that. In agonizing pain, she clenched her teeth and meditated with Candy's help, bringing out more of the painkiller's effect. The pain subsided.

[It's all right now, Nana. He was just trying to scare you on purpose. He made it look so frightening, but all he did was cut your arm. It's only a tiny bit deeper than when you cut your hand slicing a lemon last time. I could heal it directly with my energy.]

Sitangna had been frightened to tears. Remembering how she had made a fool of herself just now, she felt like killing someone.

"That was still scary, okay? I was lying on an operating table, unable to move or see, and he was waving a knife around over me. What if he got into a bad mood and slit my throat? I was scared!"

The wound really didn't hurt as much as she had imagined. She was a champion who could take a shot in the butt without flinching. It was mainly Moriarty's deranged expression and the all-too-cold operating room before her that had caused her to misjudge the situation.

Everyone who plays psychological games is a pervert! Still, she had survived, at least.

Her eyes were slowly clearing, but the stark white light of the shadowless surgical lamp left her dazed. The scent of old book pages mixed with expensive cologne lingered around Sitangna's nose. She knew it was Moriarty's scent. It was nauseating.

Moriarty seemed to be in a very good mood. His lean figure moved at the edge of the bright light as he hummed Debussy's "Clair de Lune." The lilting melody formed a glaring contrast with the cold instruments in his hands.

How dare you scare me. Once I get out of here, I'm going to chop you into pieces.

Sitangna had entered a state of emptiness. Her mood was indifferent, and so was she. But she knew perfectly well that she would survive, and Moriarty had to die.

"Cough, cough, cough! Cough, cough-" Watson woke up in a shallow well. Salty, fishy seawater rushed into his nose and mouth, and the biting cold woke him straight up.

Where did the seawater in the well come from?

Drip, drip. He followed the falling drops with his gaze and looked up at the patch of sky. A pitch-black water pump stood over the well's opening, blocking most of the light.

"Is anyone there? Hallo? Cough, cough, cough, cough, can you hear me!?" His vocal cords were swollen, congested, and coated with mucus, and his nose was blocked too. He figured the cold had given him a cold. The muffled echoes from the well walls cut short his final hoarse cry.

Dark green moss covered the walls of the well. Watson stripped it all away with his bare hands and tried to climb out, but he failed several times.

The bottom of the well was damp year-round. Unlike a dry wall, it offered little friction, and it was too slippery to support his hands and feet. He stopped trying. He had to conserve his strength and wait for rescue.

He didn't know how Sherlock and Sitangna were doing. Before he was taken, he had also heard Nana cry out in alarm. He had thought they would be held together, but now it seemed they hadn't even been taken by the same group.

But he was certain this was another life-or-death game aimed at Sherlock.

January temperatures in Britain usually hovered in the single digits. He was glad they hadn't specifically chosen the coldest time to capture him, but the water here was still close to freezing.

Fortunately, the water wasn't deep, so it hadn't triggered a cold shock response. But judging by the pump above his head, it would surely start pouring water in once Sherlock joined the game. That was how they always did it in movies.

Good lord, that so-called consulting criminal keeps going after the people around Sherlock. Does he really have nothing better to do?

At most, he had two hours. If no rescue reached him before then, he would freeze to death here.

In an environment around zero degrees, a person's core temperature could drop several degrees per hour. Remaining hypothermic for too long might cause him to lose consciousness again and miss his rescue.

"Please, Sherlock, and the honorable Mycroft... come through for me..." Watson wrung out his soaked sleeves and curled up, wrapping his arms around himself. He needed to keep as warm as possible now.

"Have you found them?"

Mycroft's rescue agents had arrived almost on the kidnappers' heels. They had immediately sent a helicopter in pursuit, but the kidnappers had shaken it off by flying recklessly.

Judging by the scene, one had disappeared through a secret passage, while the other had been abducted and transported by helicopter. The rescue agents were short-handed. They had split into two groups and searched for a long time without catching anyone, but fortunately, they had found some important leads.

"The helicopter we pursued is registered to a prison. It's the warden's personal aircraft. We used the identification number captured in the footage to trace its exact location."

"Sherrinford?" "Yes, Mr Holmes."

Thinking of the dry exchange he had had with the warden there a few days ago, Mycroft understood. She no longer cared to disguise herself and was openly baring her fangs at them. She knew. She knew that Sherlock had forgotten her completely.

She must be furious.

"What about the other one?" Mycroft had just received a message from the head nurse. Sherlock had finally woken up.

"We followed the secret passage, but it has a great many exits. Based on the traces left at the exits, we've identified several possible locations. Please take a look."

The rescue team handed over all the information they had obtained as soon as they had it. Mycroft dismissed his subordinates, picked up the paper bag, and headed for the hospital room.

"What's the situation? How long was I unconscious? Have your people found the two of them?" Sherlock climbed out of bed barefoot and started talking before he was steady on his feet. Ignoring the panicked nurse beside him, he pulled off all the monitoring equipment and needles attached to him.

"From that expression, I take it they haven't." Sherlock snatched the paper bag from Mycroft's hand and rummaged through it.

"You were unconscious for nearly three hours." Mycroft had stayed with him for those three hours too. "The agents didn't catch them, but they found some major leads. They're in the bag."

"That's far too long. Damn neurotoxin!" Sherlock grew anxious at the thought that Watson and Sitangna's whereabouts were unknown, but he also understood that every extra minute put them in greater danger.

Calm down. Calm down.