After Mycroft had told John of the news of Sherlocks survival, the thought of the detective being alive was the only thing the doctor could think about. Sherlock had saved his life on so many occasions, John owed Sherlock far too much to just leave him alone. He needed to save Sherlock, even it it meant saving Sherlock from himself. He would find the detective, even if it meant the death of him. In John’s mind, he had nothing else to live for except this.
Little did John know that it wouldn’t be him finding the detective, though that outcome would be preferred. The detective would find him first. John was getting close, he could feel it. John found himself tracking down a lead. John stops in his tracks, his gut feeling told him that something was wrong. He was being followed. John, after his time in the military and working cases with Sherlock learned to trust his gut feeling for danger, his sixth sense had saved his life on many different occasions. However, John had been obsessed with finding his friend that he had been ignoring this gut feeling. Now what he was at last paying attention to it, it was too late. John feels an arm go around his waist, the other pushed a chemical rag against his mouth and nose. A surprised gasp and the world goes dark.
John came too to see that he was tied to a stiff chair in the center of a large room of a warehouse. The whole room was dark except a single overhead light that sputtered and flickered. John tensed as he hears the sharp metallic sound of a knife being sharpened off to his right. Most people would be terrified and John was scared, sure. But he wouldn’t have lived this long and saved so many lives had he not been calm under stress.
“Alright, I am awake. Whatever you are going to do to me, get it over with!” John shouted into gloom. The sound of the sharpening stopped, casting an eerie uncomfortable silence. John’s ears strained to hear the sound of footsteps upon the concrete coming closer. The shadows move and condense to form a figure of a thin man, but his face is still hidden. The man slowly raised his head and the light reflects off the figure’s eyes, pale blue. John’s breath inhaled sharply as the figure came to stand in the light. John’s mouth opens into a wide O of shock. He had expecting to see the face of Moriarty, instead he saw the face of a ghost.
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“Oh my god….Sherlock….”
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Mirrors
FanfictionSherlock has has vanished without a trace. Kidnapped by sinister forces that riles even the vast crime web of the Crime King Moriarty. John is at his wits end trying to track down his best friend. But as the weeks pass, the odds of finding his frien...
