Sherlock's P.O.V.

Flashback to a Rainy day Before the empty Hearse

It was a quiet day in London. Rain splattered against the pavement, drops clinging to the flat window for dear life. I stood by the window, encompassing the cold feel of the window all around me. The steam from my tea created little fog patches all around the glass. I laughed and drew a smile in the one closest to my hand. This seemed to be a recurring thing. The hot tea swirled about the bottom of the cup as I lifted it to my lips. It was warm against the soft skin it touched. I could hear the crinkle of the paper as John turned the pages. My rob dangled off my body, flowing behind me as I drop my cup in the sink and then sit right in front of John in my armchair. "Anything good in the paper today, John?"

He shook his head and turned the page.

This is how are days were. I flipped open John's laptop and started scrolling through all the potential cases there were. Women and Men all asking me to see if their husbands and wives were cheating. Children asking for us to search for lost pets and Dead grandparents. It seemed like life couldn't get more spectacular. John was happy, at least, he seemed to be. It was as if, when together, there was no team like Holmes & Watson. We worked so well together… I … I think I loved John. How, I hadn't quite figured out yet… Maybe someday my deductive skills will add the happiness in my life… rather then just take away from it. "John, I…" The words escaped my lips… my mind.

"Yes, Sherlock?" His eyes, those beautiful light blue beauties, searched mine. Waiting eagerly.

"You, you pick the case this time."

Present day; Greg's Office, John's missing.

My jacket was tugging my hair slightly so I pushed the collar down. I could feel my hands shake. Where could John be? I handed my phone to Greg. "Find that number, John's running out of time!" Greg looked flustered. He didn't seem to want to deal with me. He found out 30 minutes earlier that I was alive, and now I need his help. He was going to need to get over it quickly. He seemed happy that I was still alive, but now irritated that he only knows because I need his help. "Look Sherlock, I can't do much. All you have is a Blocked number. See if you can get them to call back… Something, but i've got nothing to work with. I'm sorry."

I slammed my hand down on the desk and stormed out. If he wasn't going to help I was going to need to do this on my own. First, I need to get 's help… I need to find John before I loose him… Again.

John's P.O.V.

There are few places in this world that feel like home. Sherlock's flat is the first place in a long time I could sleep knowing everything would be alright. That I would be taken care of. Even with this blindfold over my eyes, I knew where I was. The familiar fabric of my armchair rubbed against my arms. I was still groggy from whatever they put into my neck, and my head hurt. It felt like someone replaced my brain with a drum and was beating it like an insistent indian. My fingers were aching from how tightly I was bound at the wrists. It smelled like 's tea and dust. This is also what Sherlock smelled like a vast majority of the time. It seemed to me that, despite their "best efforts.", Sherlock would find me quite quickly. What was all this for? What did they need with me ?

Hours seemed to pass… I began to lose hope that he was coming… I felt my heart sink in my chest. Why hadn't he come yet? I closed my eyes… Hoping sleep would pass the time… I faded… away from all this… into a land that maybe wasn't going to hurt me.

Sherlock's POV

was snuggled deep into a chair that sat in her kitchen. She had a steaming cup of tea in front of her. Her face, wrinkled with years of laughter and smiles, sadness and tears. I opened the front door and waved to her. "I'll be down shortly. I have to gather some things. I have a question to ask you when I return." I took the stairs two at a time when I noticed something off. The door was still slightly open, fibers gathering in a crack in the wood that weren't there this morning. There was a new fragrance of cologne in the air… Something completely unfamiliar. I heard deep voices chuckling behind the door… Saying something… I listened closely.

"Do you think this Sherlock fellow will ever think to come home?" The first spoke. He laughed and sipped on something.

"No," The second began. "They never think to check home." At that moment I burst through the door and everyone in the room jumped. They seemed to be scared, well frightened at least. "Bloody 'ell."

"Where is John?" I yelled into the silence. They both stood, approaching me slowly. I braced myself for a beating… when I heard 's heavy steps coming up the stairs. I walked towards the door and opened it wider. She had in her hands a heavy frying pan. I stuck my hands out and she handed it to me. I put it behind my back and then returned to the men in my sitting room. One had disappeared and the other was itching to fight. I walked up towards him and let him swing first .He misses and I knock him out cold with the frying pan.

I walked down the hallway to see the second hidden in John's bedroom where John lay quietly asleep. The man lunged at me, catching me off guard. He hit my face and jumped back. I picked him up, angry, and smacked him with the frying pan. we fumbled a bit and then we both landed ourselves back in the sitting room. He was kicking my ribs and punching my head when I finally got to my feet. I tackled his midsection, causing him to fly back to the window and break all the glass. We dangled out the window a moment Until I let go and the intruder fell two stories.

I dusted myself off and began to walk back to John. In that moment I felt the barrel of a gun press into my back. I flinched as its owner spoke.

"Well, Look at you Sherls… Don't you look wonderful this evening."

Moriarty has returned…