Hello... its been a few years since I've published fanfic, so I'm a little rusty. I wanted to offer a few notes for your assistance and knowledge. This story is already complete and it will be posted daily over the next ten days (if I don't get distracted) so its 10 chapters long.

I'm going to say its set between Season 4 and 5, so before the brain injury of season six (I'm already considering a sequel that will take this story into season six once I've seen more episodes, as I have already seen an opportunity!) This is my first Elementary fanfic, and my first story with police procederals - I apologies in advance for any liberties I take on that, I'm also british so I hope I haven't included any slang thats not common outside of the UK :D - I simply wanted to write a good hurt/comfort style story that touched upon something that has been mentioned a couple of times in the early seasons.

Quite simply I hope you enjoy! And I hope to write more.

Past Demons

CHAPTER ONE

The Brownstone was quiet, for once. Sherlock Holmes sat in the armchair beside the fireplace contemplating the files that were spread on the floor before him. Joan Watson was reading a stack of files placed beside her, but nothing was grabbing her attention. They were between cases, the previous three weeks they had been in pursuit of a man who for so long had been one step ahead of them. With every deduction Sherlock had made, the prime suspect Andrew Larry was just five minutes gone when they had got there.

As the days passed Andrew Larry seemed to become more and more aware of the man who was pursuing him, and Sherlock Holmes was on his trail, getting closer. Larry's attentions to Sherlock reached the point Gregson had started to become concerned by Andrew's sudden attention to the consulting detective. Andrew had started leaving messages specifically for Sherlock, name-checking Holmes in phone calls and messages. That was until Sherlock made a deduction that finally put them in front, they caught Andrew and brought him in, and things could finally return to normal.

'There is nothing here, these cold cases have been reviewed so many times,' Joan suddenly exclaimed. 'I need a coffee; do you want one?'

Sherlock only gave her the briefest of looks to indicated he was ok, so she got up and headed down to the kitchen. On reaching the final step Joan's cell phone began to ring and she wasted no time in answering it when she saw Captain Gregson's name flash up as the caller, hoping inwardly that it would be another case. At the same time, she heard the doorbell ring but figured Sherlock would manage that considering he was just a few steps away upstairs.

'Are you with Sherlock?' Gregson asked with no pleasantries to start the conversation.

Joan frowned. 'We're both in the Brownstone.'

'I'm sending some blues over,' Gregson informed her. 'I've just heard Larry has managed to escape his escort to the prison.'

'What?' Joan checked, and a flurry of thoughts attacked her with the information shared.

'We both know he was paying particular attention to Sherlock before his arrest, I don't want to take any changes,' Gregson continued, and he sounded hurried, clearly on the move himself.

'Ok right,' Joan tried to process the information. Larry being free again felt so disheartening after all the work they had done to catch him. 'Well, I'll go tell Sherlock,' she added.

'I would have phoned him myself directly but felt it might be better coming from you, I know how close to this one he was,' Gregson explained.

'No, you made the right call,' Joan agreed and proceeded up the stairs. She was about to ask Gregson how he'd escaped when she noticed the front door was open on turning at the top of the stairs. 'Sherlock?' Joan called out loudly.

'What is it?' Gregson asked from her phone, she still had it to her ear.

'When you called the doorbell also rung, and now the door has been left open,' Joan hurried the short distance, Sherlock was no longer in his chair, and there was no sign of him. 'SHERLOCK!' she screamed out and there was no response. 'He's not here, his coat, keys, phone are still here,' She stressed as she scanned the immediate area for any clues and her eyes fell on an empty syringe now lying on the floor. 'He's been taken.'

'I'll be right there,' Gregson ended the call and Joan looked around in disbelief at how quickly the day had changed.

Sherlock felt his body jolt and wearily opened his eyes, knowing immediately that something was not right. His arms were restricted, they had been cable tied behind his back at the wrists, he recognised the hard plastic digging into his skin. His feet were also tied, and he was still being jolted, they were in a moving vehicle, a transit van he deduced as he was rocked around in the wide expanse.

He was alone at least but he could hear two male voices speaking in the front of the van and his view of his captors were hidden by a screen. Sherlock began to take stock, he had been attacked at his front door, he remembered approaching the door, but his memories were hazy of the actual act of being taken. Sherlock suspected he'd been drugged somehow, he recognised the feeling of the aftermath all too well. It can't have been chloroform, he's not easily taken in a struggle and he felt no bruises he'd expect to feel, so it was quick, a jab, he decided as that best explained his grogginess now.

Watson, where was Watson? He narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember. She had gone downstairs to make tea, no coffee, and possibly take a call, had he heard her ringtone? He couldn't be sure but he knew she was out of the way, so he was relieved by that. The van took a sharp corner and Sherlock couldn't stop his body sliding across the transit's floor. He righted himself and tried to think about his situation, who could be behind this. There were so many suspects he banged his head with frustration against the floor, he hated being the captured one, as opposed to being the capturer.

The van stopped suddenly, and it took all of Sherlock's wile to stop himself flying across the floor once again. Seconds later the back doors flew open, the sudden bright sunlight caused Sherlock to squint before he felt himself being dragged towards the doors. A hood was hastily placed over his head, before being lifted out of the van and dragged across some dirt. With the hood on he was blind to the location and his strong senses were giving him nothing as to his location, he suspected the knock out drug was still in his system and dulling them.

It was roughly a minute before they entered a building, by the change in the sounds around him Sherlock could tell it was a disused warehouse, most likely abandoned as their footsteps echoed around the space. A predictable if favourite haunt of people who take people he considered. The captors roughly dragged Sherlock down a flight of metal stairs, and with his ankles tied it caused him to grit his teeth as he felt every single step.

Finally, he was pushed forward, landing face first onto the floor. A loud noise indicated a door being slammed shut followed by the turn of a key, then silence. Sherlock took some needed breaths, he then manoeuvred his head from side to side to remove the hood that blinded him. The room had no light, it was pitch black. Sherlock simply lay there listening intently but realised quickly that the room was soundproofed. For the first time in a long while Sherlock had to concede that he had absolutely no idea what was going on, and only hoped someone else did.

Police swarmed the brownstone, despite Joan insisting they only really needed to check the front door, as that's where the crime had happened. Gregson moved her to one side and seemed to be assessing her.

'Did you hear anything?'

'I was talking to you, I didn't think twice about the door,' Joan spoke calmly. 'They only rang once, trust Sherlock to be prompt to open the door to kidnappers,' she fumed. 'Normally he keeps people waiting,' she added and then checked herself. 'Sorry, I shouldn't jest.'

'I get it, you're worried, we all are,' Gregson said softly.

Detective Bell joined them and reviewed the notepad in his hand. 'We're not finding much here I'm afraid and no one saw anything outside,' Bell informed with a sigh. 'We're checking known locations of Larry, but that's also drawing a blank at the moment.'

'So, he's disappeared into thin air,' Watson said with frustration, and the two men looked at her with no response to offer. 'We have the syringe, but no prints,' Watson considered, her mind desperate to find the clues her partner would normally draw at this time. 'Have we determined what they gave Sherlock, what was in the syringe?'

'There's nothing back from the report yet, but I can push it,' Bell stated and was already on his phone as he stepped away to make the call.

'We might have to wait for them to contact us, tell us what they want,' Gregson spoke up.

'And what if they already have what they want?' Joan questioned. 'We just wait for Sherlock's body to show up?'

'Joan,' Gregson began to reason but Watson cut him off.

'I'm sorry,' she interrupted. 'I didn't mean it to sound that way I'm just annoyed, Sherlock would have found something, anything by now, but I just can't think straight,' she confessed.

'It's understandable but we will find him,' Gregson put an arm around Joan and she responded, it was just what she needed, that one small glint of hope.

Sherlock was beginning to enjoy the peace and quiet, it was very rare that he could find this solace in his everyday life. The numbness in his hands, however, were a constant reminder that all was not well. He was not allowing his body to panic; his breathing was calm, and his mind was clear. Mentally he was preparing himself for the worse, he was expecting pain, had they wanted him dead he'd be so already. Isolation and fear was to be a companion until this was over, but he tried not to dwell on the 'over' part too much.

The sound of keys in the door were sudden and loud, breaking the silence abruptly. Sherlock naturally shifted his body as best he could away from the noise until his back hit the wall. The darkness had felt like a cloak around him, and it wasn't until the door swung open that he had even realised where it was in relation to the room. A light was switched on and Sherlock closed his eyes quickly and moved his head to the side to try and ease the discomfort on his eyes.

'Mr Sherlock Holmes,' a voice boomed, he didn't recognise it.

'And you are?' Sherlock asked, his voice raspy with the lack of water.

'An admirer,' the voice returned.

'You could have just called,' Sherlock responded, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light. He was finally able to look at the man who was speaking and he recognised him immediately. 'Andrew Larry, shouldn't you be locked up?'

'They tried,' Andrew simply smiled. 'I have a good team around me. I take it your own team failed to warn you in time?' he added, with an air of smugness.

'It appears so,' Sherlock agreed, with no further comment.

'I really wanted to see the man who beat me.' Andrew spoke as he stepped closer to Sherlock. 'It takes a great man to outwit me, Holmes, and you seemingly did that, so you have my respect.'

'You have strange ways of showing that respect,' Sherlock replied gruffly.

'Would you have come if I'd simply asked?' Larry questioned.

'You clearly don't know me well enough,' Sherlock considered, he had been so bored since closing the Larry case, he would have jumped at the chance most likely.

'So, confirmation that we both want to be right where we are at the moment,' Larry stated with pleasure.

'I'd rather I wasn't restrained,' Sherlock pointed out.

'I don't respect you that much,' Larry shot back.

'So, what do you want?' Sherlocked asked with anger lacing his voice, tired of the chit chat.

Larry went outside the room briefly and returned with a chair, and two of his men. The men headed towards Sherlock lifting him up. Sherlock offered no resistance as they dumped him into the chair. His hands were cut free of the cable ties but quickly pressed against the arms of the chair, and both men secured his wrists once more with cable ties. They quietly cut the ties around his ankles and tied each ankle to the leg of the chair, tightly.

Once done the men moved to the back of the room and Larry brought a chair to sit in front of Sherlock, and for a moment he simply observed the consulting detective who glared back at him.

'You are from London, correct?' Larry finally spoke.

'I am,' Sherlock replied with impatience, still unsure where this was all going.

'You came here because of your 'problem',' Larry's voice carried a threat, and Sherlock started to become a little concerned where this was heading. 'Only it got worse and you found yourself in rehab,' he continued.

'I didn't realise I had a wiki page,' Sherlock mocked, hiding his alarm that this thug had found out about his past.

'How long has it been?' Larry asked calmly and Sherlock's eyes burned into him, he was not comfortable with the line of discussion. 'How long!' Larry yelled.

'Long enough,' Sherlock answered.

'Boys,' Larry simply said, and the two men stepped forward and stood beside Sherlock. 'How long?'

'Two years give or take,' Sherlock responded irritated by the closeness of the two goons beside him, clearly perfecting the intimidation tactics. The mood in the room had quickly changed.

'It so happens my boys know some boys and we've managed to secure you some of the good stuff,' Larry offered.

'No, don't waste it on me,' Sherlock said quickly but through gritted teeth.

'We really don't mind, do we boys?' Larry smiled and his men responded with shakes of the head. 'Anything for the man clever enough to keep up with me,' Larry spoke with admiration.

'I beat you,' Sherlock snarled.

'And it's my chance to demonstrate that you really didn't, you got lucky, that's all,' Larry spoke with determination. He moved a little closer to Sherlock, allowing the detective to really look at him, and Sherlock glared back with anger.

'I don't get lucky,' Sherlock persisted, and stared straight into Larry eyes, there was something that triggered in his mind but he quickly dismissed the feeling with the immediate threat.

'You're right, you don't,' Larry agreed. 'Boys send him on a trip, it's really not your lucky day.'

Larry stood up and left the room as the two men moved to face Sherlock. He knew what was coming, there was no possible escape, he tried to struggle, test his restraints but it was useless. One of the men prepared the heroin, he had all the gear and clearly knew what he was doing whilst the other man cut the long sleeve tee-shirt off of Sherlock's torso. Sherlock tried to calm his breathing as his extra sensitive sense of smell picked up an old scent he had once loved. He felt a tie being tightened around his right upper arm, and seconds later the pin prick punctured his skin close to his elbow. In moments he felt the rush he had been trying to avoid for so long, it felt so good as he succumbed to the drug and fell into darkness.

'The test came back, the drug in the syringe was a mixture of two well-known knockout substances,' Detective Bell revealed. 'A knock out juice that's previously been used by Larry's men, it's almost their signature brand by all accounts.'

'So, we have a connection,' Gregson stated. He was sat behind his desk at the precinct with Joan and Dectective Bell seated before him.

'I don't understand why they have taken Sherlock,' Joan spoke up. 'Surely being on the run is bad enough but to take Sherlock as well, it draws unneeded additional attention,' she explained.

'Larry's a cocky son of a bitch, and he got caught,' Gregson offered. 'We already knew he had an interest in Sherlock, I was about to pull him off the case when we caught Larry.'

'He'd never have dropped it, he was too invested, he knew he could outsmart Larry,' Joan stated.

'Clearly, he let his guard down,' Gregson returned.

'He thought Larry was under lock and key, why would he think otherwise?' Joan responded and immediately offered Gregson and apologetic look, she took a deep breath. 'How did Larry escape?'

'The escort was ambushed, as he was transferred to maximum security, it was no small effort,' Gregson recovered the report he'd been sent, and quickly read it. 'Says here that four vehicles intercepted, grenades were thrown, mass panic with gun fire and then a helicopter arrived that once they'd released Larry, they used for the escape. Five lives were lost, six more are in hospital, all our men,' Gregson finished with a heavy heart.

'That's some resources the guy has,' Joan was concerned once more and couldn't hide it. 'And they have Sherlock with just a knock on the door,' she sighed.

'He'll hate that,' Gregson half smiled, and he looked at Joan until she also smiled just a bit. 'We have all our best men working on this, he's one of our own, no cop will rest until we find him.'

Joan sat back and sighed loudly, her brain was still processing the events but was a lot sharper now the shock was wearing off. She turned to Marcus. 'You said the previous building's that Larry has been associated with were a blank, why?'

Marcus Bell took an intake of breath before speaking. 'All checked out, all new tenants with no associations with Larry or their previous uses,' Bell answered.

'We know that for sure?' Joan persisted.

'All filed taxes and are above board,' Bell offered.

'I'd like to check them myself, just to be sure,' Joan was already on her feet and grabbing her coat.

'Bell go with her,' Gregson agreed. 'How many buildings are we talking about?'

'Five,' Bell doubled checked with his notepad. 'All in Queens,' he added.

'Keep in touch, no radio silence, understand?' Gregson stated. 'And no heroics, I can't afford to lose any more men today,' he said with sadness.

'Understood,' Bell replied and escorted Joan out of the office.

The silence was deafening as Sherlock wearily stirred, realising he was secured to a chair in pitch darkness. He wasn't clear on his surroundings, or lack of them in the darkness, or the passage of time. He let his head fall back, he had felt this sensation many times, both euphoric and dismay, reality always came back to slap him in the face.

His hands were numb, painfully numb, with the tightness of the ties around his wrists, the same went for his feet. His head swayed as he battled consciousness. He hoped his sobriety had allowed him that one dose, and that his need for more would be weakened by determination of his own self will. He was not going to become that mess again too quickly if he could help it.

He processed what he could remember through his hazy thoughts, which wasn't much yet. He remembered more the sensations than actual physical memories. Being dragged away from the Brownstone, the movement of the vehicle, being dragged down stairs. Sherlock hoped his memories would be sharper soon, fearing what his drug induced trip had forgotten.

It seemed like ages before the click of the door opened it again, this time Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut on instinct against the light as it was switched on. Slowly and carefully he opened them to see one of the 'men' stood before him.

'What should I call you, you know for when I write my memoirs,' Sherlock asked arrogantly.

'God,' the man smirked.

'Fair enough, God it is,' Sherlocked played along. 'Could you perform a little miracle for me, so I could get out of here?' he added.

'Funny man,' 'God' said flatly. 'You can call me Bob.'

'Why would I call you Bob when it's not your real name?' Sherlock questioned. 'And I'm sure your parents weren't so cruel as to call you God, so just tell me,' he stressed tiredly. 'Oh, is it Bob the God, because that would be epic, come on tell me. You don't intend to keep me alive right?'

'It's Vinnie, and I'm only telling you because I don't want you calling me Bob the God, ok?' the man finally said.

'Vinnie, hello Vinnie, my name is Sherlock, it's a pleasure to meet you,' Sherlock offered. 'I'm of course lying about that last bit, I'm sure you understand my reasons.'

'You're odd, man,' Vinnie simply shot back.

'Why am I here? Why waste that perfectly good heroin on me?' Sherlocked continued. 'It was clearly yours,' he added, remembering that this was the man who had expertly prepared the drug for him. 'Don't do that again, it's not cheap and it's no fun for you.'

'Shut up,' Vinnie snapped.

'Why are you here?' Sherlock then frowned, confused why Vinnie had just turned up and stood there.

'I said shut up!' Vinnie rushed forward and with his right fist, sent it crashing into Sherlock's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently.

By the time Sherlock had recovered his senses Vinnie was once more stood in front of him, as if nothing had happened. Sherlock could taste blood, both inside his mouth where his teeth had clenched down, and also felt it running down his cheek.

'I see he baited you,' Larry announced towards Vinnie as he arrived in the room, seeing the fresh blood on Sherlock's face. 'Don't let him do that to you again.'

'He's odd and annoying, boss,' Vinnie answered.

'Vinnie, I'm right here and I'm hurt by your comments,' Sherlock mocked.

'You told him your name?' Larry questioned turning to Vinnie, who was visibly squirming.

'Sorry boss, he didn't believe I was called God or Bob, and he was gonna call me Bob the God,' Vinnie explained.

Larry simply smirked and looked at Sherlock. 'Do you find it as amusing as I do to deal with such simple folk?'

'Everyone I meet is a simpleton,' Sherlock stated with narrowed eyes. 'No exceptions, no offence,' he added staring at Larry directly.

Larry took a deep breath and just glared at Sherlock. 'We really do have to bring you into the real world, make you appreciate us a bit more.'

'That's not necessary I know exactly what you are,' Sherlock objected. 'But if you simply intend to kill me, hurt me, whatever can we just get it over with because I'm positive there are better things I could be doing with my time.'

'How was the trip?' Larry asked and grabbed Sherlocks chin, forcedly moving Sherlock's head from side to side to examine his reactions and features.

Sherlock didn't answer, he was ignoring the pangs of need he could feel creeping inside of him, threatening to take him over once again. It was only one shot, but sometimes that's all it took to get back on the road to destruction and Sherlock was desperate to not see that happen, he didn't want to give Larry the satisfaction.

'Maybe you need another trip?' Larry hinted.

'Why are you doing this?' Sherlock asked to break the chain of thought.

Larry simply smiled at Sherlock. 'Because I'm better than you, I always have been. I have no stupid addiction that can be used against me, I have nothing that weakens me. You sicken me, such a talent and you let yourself be so easily overcome,' Larry raged. 'You use such amazing talents, when you are sober, to help the police, the police!' he yelled. 'You have a special gift and you waste it with drugs and being the good guy,' Larry paused before bringing his face closer to Sherlock. 'That annoys me, let's just say I've never liked a snitch, I blame my school days.'

'So, you do intend to kill me?' Sherlock calmly asked.

'No, I intend to destroy you,' Larry replied.

'Isn't that the same thing?' Sherlock questioned with an air of flippancy.

'I don't want to kill you, Holmes, I want to remove those gifts you clearly share with me, any which way I can so you can suffer for the rest of your life. Living with the knowledge of knowing what you once had, and knowing you wasted them. I want to destroy your life, as mine was destroyed, you need to feel that.'

'That would suggest that you can break me,' Sherlock returned, trying to keep his voice strong but with no water for hours it was proving difficult.

'Oh, I can break you, Holmes,' Larry sneered. 'Now it's just you, just wait and see, I've waited a long time for this moment,' Larry laughed, and Vinnie joined in.

'By making me an active addict again?' Sherlock ensured his voice displayed his doubts. 'Been there done that, hit rock bottom but still had my skills when I returned,' he stated clearly.

'That earlier? That was just to ease you in, my friend, and that will be the last time you'll ever feel good about yourself,' Larry warned. 'I need to be sure I have your full attention before the real fun starts,' he added.

'I can't wait,' Sherlock said with disinterest.

Larry glared at him for a moment. 'I'm a fair man, Holmes, unlike you, you are nothing but a vindictive child,' his voice was low and threatening, Sherlock caught the word child and was momentarily confused by the choice of words. 'I do respect your skills, Holmes, always have, and I will not enjoy destroying you, but I also don't like the idea of you continuing to walk this Earth and not paying for what you did to me.'

'Seriously, all this is because I ruined your fun?' Sherlock asked wearily. 'I stopped you breaking the law a couple of weeks back and you go totally over the top?' Sherlock questioned. 'You need help,' he advised with a sneer.

'Vinnie, go get this man some food and water,' Larry instructed and waited until Vinnie had left the room. 'I'm trying so hard to hate you, Holmes, you are by default my nemesis, someone I desire to defeat with such passion it hurts,' Larry spoke with care as he began to walk around the chair that Sherlock was secured to.

'I have no wish to be anything else to you Mr Larry,' Sherlock returned with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Larry stopped directly behind Holmes and paused. Sherlock felt uneasy not being able to see Larry, knowing that by all accounts he was not a stable man, there was plenty of evidence that he was highly irrational when dealing with anyone who got in his way.

'I'm actually changing my mind, Holmes,' Larry finally spoke. 'Destroying you is an option, but I'm going to add an Option B,' he announced and walked around to face Sherlock. 'Option B is that you work with me, you use your skills for what they were supposed to be used for, imagine just how far we could go, together.'

Sherlock simply smirked at the new proposal and remained smiling as he spoke. 'You are kidding right?' he checked. 'Did you take some of what you forced me to take?'

'Think about it, think about all you know about me and how you could help me,' Larry offered. 'And when I have destroyed you, remember, always remember, that I gave you the choice.'

Vinnie re-entered the room with food and water on a tray, Larry gestured to hand it to him. Larry took the tray and sat in front of Sherlock, moving his chair closer until he was directly in front of Sherlock. Larry offered Sherlock the glass of water, and the detective only hesitated for a moment before taking some needed sips. The glass was placed back on the tray, and the lid was removed from the food. The smells overwhelmed Sherlock who was abruptly reminded just how hungry he was, it was some leftover Chinese meal of some sort Sherlock figured, there were noodles and some chicken. Larry took a fork to it and then brought it to Sherlock's mouth, again Sherlock hesitated before taking the contents and it tasted so good, obviously reheated, but really tasted good. He was offered another five mouthfuls by Larry before he took it away, even though there was plenty of food still left and Sherlock knew it was barely enough to equal a meal.

'I think that's enough for now,' Larry decided. 'It's been out for a few days, so you might find it doesn't agree with you, it was all we had,' he grinned with menace.

Sherlock watched him stand up and return the tray to Vinnie, grabbing the glass of water before Vinnie left the room. Larry offered the water to Sherlock one more time, this time Sherlock took a few gulps before the glass was taken away, what remained in the glass was then thrown in Sherlock's face as Larry laughed.

'I'll leave you to think, make sure you do,' Larry suggested. 'But I am disappointed just for the record, Holmes, very disappointed, you really are not as smart as you think.'

Sherlock watched as Larry left the room; and was left once again in complete darkness. He still wasn't completely sure what was in store, but he was more afraid now than ever before, he couldn't work with that man, he just couldn't and that was all Larry would need to justify destroying him. Something else was bugging him, Larry's language seemed to be suggesting more than he was telling and Sherlock couldn't fathom out what he was missing, he just knew now with Larry's final comment that he was missing something, and he had to figure it out fast.

'It's been over twelve hours,' Joan pointed out as she stabbed as some takeout food that had been placed in front of her. She was back at the Brownstone with Marcus, who had insisted on staying with her until Sherlock was safe.

'All the buildings checked out, new occupants and nothing out of the ordinary,' Bell frowned.

Joan pushed her food away, she couldn't think of food. Their day had been spent going to every known address that had been associated with Larry, and nothing suggested that anyone was behind held there. All had CCTV around the hours of Sherlock's kidnapping was clean, there was nothing unusual to report around any building. Joan moved the closed laptop in front of her and opened the lid.

'We are missing something, I know it,' Joan stated, more to herself.

Bell was checking his phone. 'Remind me, what was it that Sherlock did to get ahead of Larry when we finally picked him up?'

Joan considered the question before answering. 'Do you remember that office we raided, where we had missed him by about ten minutes, not much more? The loan sharks on the south side?'

'Yeah, on the morning before we captured him?' Bell remembered.

'Sherlock found a newspaper, and it looked pretty much irrelevant. It was just a paper that was lying on the desk, but it was open on a page with a story about a local couple who were planning on selling up their business, with all stock included in the sale,' Joan recounted. 'They had had a win on the lottery, so they didn't need to work anymore,' Joan offered. 'By this point Sherlock was convinced, or majorly paranoid, that Larry was taunting him, and taunting his observations so he was being particularly careful not to dismiss anything. Sherlock became transfixed on this story, he felt Larry had purposely left it there for him to find,' Joan remembered.

'Is that why you were the last guys to leave?' Bell smiled.

'By about three hours I think,' Joan found a smile. 'But something about that paper, and that story bothered Sherlock,' Joan added. 'He did his thing, and somehow connected that Larry was going to hit this sale before the auction, and that's where we picked him up, cleaning out the contents of the auction the night before the sale.'

'Larry couldn't help himself,' Bell spoke softly.

'Once Sherlock had obtained the list of items on sale he was able to match them up to past targets of Larry hits, he would have had contacts and would have easily moved the items on, it was too easy an opportunity for Larry to resist,' Joan finished.

'Hold on, is this what we are missing?' Bell suggested suddenly energised. 'Larry has made this personal now, and he's taken Sherlock so easily as if mocking him, so would it be possible that he would take the easy option again in where he has taken him?' Bell was staring at Joan, willing her to make the same connection he'd just made.

Joan considered his words with care, and you could see the sudden change in her demeanour. 'The sale has occurred, so that factory is empty now. How easy would it be for Larry to take Sherlock there? To the place where he himself was captured so easily?'

'It seems to be a familiar theme,' Bell agreed as Joan stood up. 'Whoa, we can't just go there.'

'Why not, Sherlock has been with this crazy man for nearly thirteen hours,' Joan replied quickly.

'Let me talk to the Captain,' Bell requested as he retrieved his phone.

'Why? We went to five potential locations today and you didn't seem too concerned that we might stumble upon them, what's changed?' Joan questioned and noticed Bell look away anxiously.

'We had good information that those buildings were not involved before we even went there,' Bell admitted with a sigh. 'We had to check, but it wasn't high priority,' he added as an explanation.

'I get it, you thought it would be safe for me, and a welcome distraction whilst the real police did the work without having to deal with a hysterical female?' Joan asked pointedly.

'That wasn't it,' Bell defended but even he didn't sound convinced.

'And what have your real police managed whilst we wasted our time?' Joan questioned, and Bell could only shrug.

'They've been looking at street cameras, trying to pick up any unusual activity around these streets in the time around the kidnapping,' Bell explained. 'We have so little to go on, but every person in the precinct is on this Joan, don't ever question that,' Bell insisted.

Joan took a deep breath and composed her thoughts. 'I know,' she finally offered. 'Let me call Gregson, I'll try not to be hysterical when I speak to him.'

Bell rolled his eyes knowing Joan wouldn't let him forget this exchange for a long time.

To be continued…