Breaking Out, Breaking Down, oh Sweet Child o' mine

Rebecca knew Shannen was hundreds of miles from home in Brighton, and that she was a couple of dozen miles from where she lived, but both were terrified to the same degree. They heard Eliza being taken, had only been a few yards behind her, though Eliza hadn't known that. They were crouched inside a remarkably leafy bush, with branches poking at them from every direction. Ordinarily, Rebecca would have been yelping by now, but she suspected that a bullet wound's pain would greatly exceed that induced by the branches.
 And so they waited, waited as Eliza was dragged like a sack of Santa Letters on boxing day into a crevice in the land, which curiously resembled Dewer's Hollow from Baskervilles.
 "Shannen," Rebecca whispered.
 "Yeah," she replied, in an even lower volume not expected from her abundance of capitalized tweets.
 "What do we do?"
 "I have no idea."

 "So are we breakin' out? Or are we breakin' down? We can't blame this world for-ev-er! This world for-ev-er!" I guess I'm lucky to be able to play an entire Ipod shuffle inside my own head, as Benedict had a surprisingly small collection of songs on his phone, "'Cos in the thick of dark and day...WE KNOW..."
 "What's that?" he was sprawled on his back by the door that led to what I guess could be described as our ensuite. Sure, it was basically just a smaller cave fitted with a toilet, a sink, and a shower, so it wasn't exactly classy, but it did exist, so it was our ensuite.
 You know the bit at the end of Baskervilles when Sherlock ruffles his hair, Ben rose his hands to his face and ruffled his skin. He stretched his arms, his right fist clattering into the door. He shuffled a few inches left away from the door.
 "Breaking Out, Breaking Down by Bullet For My Valentine."
 "I'm not even going to pretend I've heard of them."
 "Fair enough."
 "I really wish I could hear them, hear anyone. It'd feel better."
 "Du nae dudu dae ne. Du nae dudu dae ne. Du nae dudu dae ne. Du nae dudu dae ne. Du nae dudu dae ne," he replied.

 It took me a moment, but eventually I responded with, "She's got a smile that speaks to me, reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was precious bright blue sky-y-y. Now and then when I see your face, it takes me away to that special place and if I stare too long, I'll probably break down and cry-y. Oh-oh-oh-oh sweet child o' mi-i-ine."

 At first, I thought the noise was a drummer, maybe Dave Grohl or someone, thrashing away to Guns 'n' Roses, but it was too rugged, too out of place. There was no rhythm or discernible beat to what I presumed to instead be footsteps. Yes, they were footsteps, many different pairs of legs all scrabbling around outside our cave. Was it them? Were we about to be rescued? Ben and I rose to our feet and sprinted to the door, standing close together in a tennis-like ready position, ready to fight. Or run. running would probably be preferable.

 The door crashed into the wall and the light flooded into the cave, rendering us without sight for multiple seconds. Then our eyes blinked away the confusion and

 

 "LET ME GO!" Eliza screamed.

 "Give. It. Up," the man with the vice-like grip on her bicep muscles murmured, obviously not eager, but willing, to hurt her.

 She reached a hollowed out shelf in the landscape with a wooden door. The man's strength truly was extreme, as he squeezed tighter on her left arm with his right arm, unlocking the door with his left. He readjusted his grip so he was holding both arms again, and jammed his foot into the door, which swung open and crashed into the wall. He hurled Eliza into the small, musty room revealed and tossed in a torch afterward.

 The torch had landed somewhere to her right and, as Eliza scrabbled for it, she half expected a Cumberbatchian hand to reach down and flick its switch for her. But no, here was the torch, she had it. She swivelled it around until she had the button under her finger and clicked the beam of light into existence.

 "What the...?"

 

 before us were three lean men in uniforms.