Stolen (EVERYONE)

[Sherlock Holmes]

This was not right. The great detective (arguably the world's greatest detective) sat up and looked around, rubbing his head. The effect of a drug was wearing off and Sherlock frowned. The drug was released in a gaseous state into his apartment. Someone had been able to place it in there, someone smart. As far as Sherlock knew, the only man who was capable of such a feat (apart from his dear brother, Mycroft - not that he'd let Mycroft know that) was Moriarty. The master criminal who managed to defy the law no matter how hard Sherlock tried to bring the man to justice. So was this the work of his nemesis or had someone new taken action?

Placing a hand on the wall, Sherlock felt the cold concrete against his skin and already he was away, deducing what he could about the dark room he was in. It did not seem that he was alone. The detective could hear the sounds of shallow breathing around him in the darkness. Moving with added care, Sherlock searched the walls, looking for any clues. No light filtered into the room and he was unable to see who else was in the room or anything else. Everything was going to have to be based on the other senses that he had. And to be fair, those senses were quite extraordinary. If he did say so himself.

Clinging to the walls, Sherlock's feet barely disturbed the silence as he continued to explore the confinements. The room, or maybe even building, seemed to be sound proof. He could not hear anything outside of the room. No cars, no trains (Signs of the city) and no bird calls or even planes (Something that could be heard in the countryside). Whoever had done this had put a lot of work into it. Further reasons why Sherlock suspected Moriarty. Which meant that this was likely to be a challenge. Something that he would have to solve. A smile lit upon the detective's face. Finally something to do.

An object on the wall suddenly appeared and nimble, pale fingers felt it. A light switch. For a few seconds the detective considered turning the lights on. Was it worth risking detection just for the gift of being able to see his surroundings? He could not continue to stumble about the room his search of clues. So light it was. With one switch movement the detective flicked the switch and the grey room was bathed in the unnatural white light of several bulbs. The room was large and empty apart from a metal door at first glance. Of course there was also an array of people around of which Sherlock recognised. This was not good.

[James 'Jim' Moriarty]

Groaning tiredly, Moriarty blinked his eyes open. He immediately regretted it as the bright light nearly blinded him, and he had to shield his eyes. There was a throbbing pain at the back of his head which made him wince. Gingerly, he touched it with his other hand. A small lump had formed, but as he brought his hand away, he was glad to see there was no blood. That was something. So someone had snuck up behind him, whacked him unconscious, and left him in this place.

Of course, the Consulting Criminal knew what was going on. But it'd be no fun to let anyone know that. So as his eyes finally adjusted to the light, Moriarty stood up and looked round. Concrete walls, metal door, bunch of unconscious people. Normally he'd be looking into these sort of rooms through a camera while thinking of what to do to the people trapped inside them. This was something new.

And then Moriarty saw someone who he really wished he hadn't, up and moving about. For once he really didn't want to see this person. "Oh no," he sighed loudly, throwing his head back in exasperation. He looked back over at Sherlock. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. "You know if you wanted me helpless in a concrete room, you would only have had to ask. If it was even you who dragged me here."

[Molly Hooper]

A groan escaped Molly Hooper's lips as she became aware of a throbbing pain in her head. She let her eyes flicker open and she sat up, her hand automatically flying up to hold her head as it was throbbing. It was rather dark, but as Molly managed to (with the help of a concrete wall) get to her feet, a light came on. Molly squeezed her eyes shut, let them adjust, then opened them again. And who were the first two people she saw? Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty. Well that wasn't something Molly expected. Her face hardened as she saw the latter. The last time she'd seen him, they'd been...well, dating, and she'd broken up with him, after finding out who he really was. Her eyes moved to Sherlock, giving him a sort of quizzical look before she looked around her, seeing more unconscious bodies around her.

She'd been at home...at least that's what Molly could remember. She'd just finished watching PS: I Love You and she'd gone to have a snack. After that she had blacked out. The bump on Molly's head, she reflected as she removed her hand from it (causing her to wince slightly since it was still throbbing), had probably been caused by someone hitting her on the back of the head. But why her? Molly recognized some of the unconscious people in here. Quite a few actually. What was the connection here? Molly's first thought was that they all knew Sherlock, but that might not have been the case here. Still, that was Molly's theory, though she wasn't going to voice it, at least, not yet.

"Would either of you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?!" Molly said at last, her gaze determined as she looked between Moriarty and Sherlock. Her day had not improved at all. She was stuck in a room with concrete walls (she leaned back on said walls with folded arms at this point) and a metal door, filled with people that were mostly unconscious. That wasn't the best way to make anybody happy. Molly's mind began to race with billions of questions. What was going on? Why was she here with all these people? Were they needed for something? Would they get out? Molly supposed all this would be answered with time. She suddenly realized what she was wearing. She should probably have felt embarrassed. Weirdly, she didn't. Kaz really did have an influence on her.

OUTFIT

[Sherlock Holmes]

One thing that should be clear to everyone was that one did not lock two cats in the same room and it should be more obvious that one should not lock Moriarty and Sherlock in the same room. The detective's clear gaze moved over the groaning man who had been disturbed by the bright light that Sherlock had just turned on. Cat-like was the gaze of the detective as he watched the Consulting Criminal touch the back of his head then wince. It looked realistic and his eyes scanned the man's features for any sign of acting; there was none. It appeared that someone had knocked both the criminal and the detective out and placed them within this room. But for what purpose?

Another groan caught the man's attention and his gaze moved to Molly who was moving towards him, obviously not pleased with the appearance of Moriarty. Sherlock wore a face of indifference as he looked between the two. She did not appear to be unharmed, Sherlock noted that there appeared to be a bump at the back of her head, like Moriarty. Interesting... a gas had been used on him yet not the others. The situation, though interesting, was not good. Anyone able to catch the Sherlock and Moriarty off guard was good and Sherlock's immediate thoughts went to Mycroft although he did not understand why his brother would have Molly included. So was this some trick of Moriarty? A frown threatened to appear on the detective's face as he considered this.

Moriarty spoke and the detective turned to him.
"Not my idea..."

[/b] He replied simply, his words slow as he continued to examine the man. It was clear that Moriarty had been knocked out but why would he be knocked out and within his own trap? As Molly spoke, Sherlock's gaze flickered to her once more. He hated to admit it, but he had little idea as to why they were here.
"We've all been knocked out, though various different methods. The person who has done this would seem to have some hostile intentions considering that both you and Moriarty appear to have been knocked out with heavy objects. Other than that, there is little I can deduce."[/b] Sherlock replied, his voice low so as to try and keep Moriarty from hearing. He still suspected the criminal of having some hand in this plot.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Zoe Hayden]

Zoe's eyes fluttered open, and she looked around with a look of dread, a moan escaping her lips. What had happened? The pain in her head told her it wasn't something heavy that knocked her out. It was probably chlorofoam or something, because the last thing she remembered was a hand holding a hankerchief to her mouth.

The room she was in was dark. It was probably made of concrete, as the cold, hard floor seemed almost cruel to her hands, which were in bad shape due to all the fighting back. It seemed like she wasn't the only one in the room, as she could hear other people breathing. Hopefully she was the only one of her little.....group to be caught.

The lights turned on abruptly, and she blinked her eyes from the pain. Well, it wasn't much compared to her head.
She looked around frantically. A couple others were with her. Most were older, adults of various ages, along with two men she recognized dimly. But where? How?

Maybe it was her brain, but she didn't notice the whimpers. coming out of her mouth.