The Kissing Analysis

16

How tf do i have 101 reads on a chap, then the 1 before it has like 87 like bitch, read these damn chapters in order smh.

Determination and will suddenly jolted through John at the thought of Sherlock, and he smashed the glass.

He heard loud noises suddenly erupt downstairs, and the clattering of footsteps as the doctor desperately made his way out of the window.

When John was finally out in the fresh air he lost his footing and tumbled down the roof, hands scraping along the rough edge, and to the ground.

He landed head first onto the cement, and moaned loudly. He quickly stumbled up, and glanced upward as someone peeked out and yelled something unintelligible.

Suddenly an extreme pain worked up his left arm, and John winced loudly, glancing at it to see it lobbed at his side.

Sprain. Just a sprain.

John came back to his senses and glanced up, bringing his right hand to his searing shoulder, and began to sprint down the road, away from the street.

-

It rang

And rang.

And rang.

Sherlock frowned at his unanswered calls, glaring at John's number.

He heaved a frustrated sigh, before throwing his phone down.

Suddenly he heard noises erupting up the steps, and even though he new it wasn't John (The steps weren't right) he yelled anyway.

"John?!"

"Sherlock,"

Sherlock saw Lestrade appear in the doorway, breathing heavily.

"Lestrade?" The detective asked, blinking in confusion. There had been no case in the papers today-why was he here?

"It's-It's John." He gasped, and suddenly Sherlock eyes flowed with curiosity.

John?

"He's-he's been... kidnapped. We-we can't find him Sh-"

Sherlock's body tensed as the words slid through his mind, sloshing through him like goo, and he blinked hard, expression turning cold.

He reached forwards to grab his coat, and pushed passed Lestrade.

"Wai-Wait! Sherlock, there's no way you can find him, there's nothing to go off of!"

The detective turned to look at the flushed Lestrade, and glared at him.

"Yes there is. I'm assuming he called you."

Lestrade blinked.

"Yes-" "Good, then he dropped his phone."

"H-How would you-" "He wasn't answering my calls, Lestrade."

He felt a rush of something fall over him at the fact that John wasn't blatantly ignoring him. That was kind of nice, he guessed. Though he'd much rather prefer John being in one fucking piece, thank you.

"You called him? Since when did you care-" "Enough, Lestrade, when was the last time you contacted him?"

Holmes began moving down the steps quickly, and Lestrade followed after him.

"Um, 2 ish this morning-" "What?!"

Lestrade jumped as Sherlock suddenly turned towards him.

"And you tell me now?!"

"We-we didn't want to worry you-" "Are you kidding me?!"