A week had passed since the suspicious fanfiction was found by Sherlock. He had been desperately putting pieces of the puzzle together while trying to figure out how to get to Moriarty and where he could possibly be. John had rarely visited, Lestrade's cases were all too easy to solve, Mycroft was occupied as usual, Mrs. Hudson stayed out of the flat, and it all left Sherlock bored out of his mind.
It was like his sanity was slowly slipping away, leaving a heavy pounding in his head, and being by himself again brought two new friends- sadness and loneliness. Those feelings had been felt by him before, but they were ignored and not nearly as immense as they were at that moment. Having a friend had its pro's and con's, but it was better than dealing with the pain of missing him. Sherlock had been right all along- being alone protected him. He didn't have as much pain, no one could betray his trust, and there weren't objects that would forever carry a label from triggered memories.
Not even his violin could act as entertainment and he just stayed lying on the couch with his hands folded over his chest. The aching continued though, torturing Sherlock in the worst way he could imagine. He almost took out his gun and began shooting at the wall, but it already had taken on a torn-up look. Mrs. Hudson stressed over the bulletholes years ago and never really stopped, Sherlock only listened to her out of respect.
"Hello!" A bright voice cheered after barging through the door.
Sherlock's eyes opened to see a familiar face, "Oh hello Mary."
"Have you seen John?" She said as she sat down at the chair her husband used to sit in.
"No, I presumed he was with you, like always."
"John left this morning for work and should've come back home two hours ago. I called him and he would normally answer really quickly but he didn't pick up the 5th time I called him."
Sherlock immediately sat up when he heard the strange news and received a text at the same time. He reached for his phone inside of his pocket and checked what had been sent to him.
"Come find me; I've missed you. I hope you don't mind that I picked John up as well for our little reunion.
-JM"
The detective's eyes must've widened considerably because Mary took in his expression and came over to check the message herself. He had finally gotten contacted by his enemy and it actually made Sherlock quite happy, but disturbed with the part about John. It was almost like the scenario with Magnussen trying to find Sherlock's weakness by throwing John into a bonfire.
Mary followed Sherlock out of the door and into the street. He hailed a cab as quickly as possible and hopped inside, as did she. She took the detective's phone to see the message again, trying to figure out where the psycho was keeping her husband.
"He could literally be anywhere, how are we supposed to know?" Mary asked with a frustrated breath in her voice.
"He's on the roof of the hospital again. Where else would he be?"
"Er, that reporter girl's home, the swimming pool, the London Eye, inside of Buckingham Palace even!?!"
"Oh please, those places have too many people there at this point. He doesn't want too much attention when he meets me again. So he would go onto the hospital roof."
"You mean us. I'm not going to leave John or you up there with someone who has tried killing both of you."
Sherlock was surprised at Mary's concern for him, even though he had gotten moderately used to it with John. Yet, he never quite understood why people showed such care for him or other people, for that matter. But before Sherlock could ponder over it, the cab stopped and he exited the vehicle to pay for the ride. Meanwhile, Mary immediately looked up to the sky and hoped that she wouldn't see her husband up there.
"Let's go." Sherlock urged.
They ran inside and to the elevators, maniacally pressing the button multiple times in hopes of it moving faster to them. It dinged open and the mechanics seemed to have slowed down terribly due to the fact that they were so rushed to reach their destination.
>>>>>>
John Watson was in quite a bit of trouble; knocked out just to get Sherlock and Mary out to protect him again. His arms were tied and there was a gag in his mouth, the roof of the building was quite cold.
A door was ripped open and slammed shut, frightening John in his vulnerable state since he couldn't move to see who had come up to him. He calmed when he sae the faces of the two people who loved him the most in the world- his lovely wife and his eccentric best friend. They began untying his bonds and gag, desperately wanting their questions answered by John.
But as soon as the gag was removed, John took a deep breath and asked worriedly, "Where's Daniel?"
"He's with the neighbours. How come you always end up in these kinds of situations?" Mary joked.
"I don't even know. I pass out and find myself in life-threatening situations."
"You were clearly drugged and guess who brought you here."
"Not Magnussen, you shot him. So...Moriarty?"
"I believe so. This text was sent to me and it led me to come here." Sherlock showed John the message.
"But, he isn't here. I didn't see him at all, even when I woke back up on this roof."
Mary gave John a hug had a small discussion to see if he was okay. They waved goodbye to Sherlock and headed back to their home. The detective turned up the corners of his mouth slightly in the closest thing to a smile he could manage.
Once the door had shut, he stood alone on the cement roof, a gray and black landscape surrounding him as a moderate breeze blew across the sky. His hair and jacket fluttered a bit while his eyes wandered over the dark, paved city. But that was when something completely unexpected happened.
