I'm conscious of a headache. My vision is blurred. Was I asleep? I'm worried that I need to ask myself the question. No I cannot be, whatever I am lying upon is too hard.
I become conscious that I cannot move my arms. They are bound. Fear starts to rise within me. How did I get here? How long I have I been here?
I become aware of footsteps, someone is running. I hear the sound of doors being forced open and my name being shouted but I cannot answer. Why can’t I answer?
The door flies open and the outline of a familiar figure kneels beside me.
“Watson, please excuse the brevity but the constabulary desires your arrest.”
Written by Alistair DuncanBuy my books here