Everything was silent, still, absolutely motionless. Sherlock still sat before the laptop, tapping on the keyboard just as he had the whole night. Mrs. Hudson had just got out of her office space, starting to clean up the flat. The only motion and noise came from her while the detective began deeply thinking about something with his hands steepled over his mouth. She glanced around then knit her brows in confusion when she noticed something.
"Where's John?"
"He left. Went out for a walk last night and probably stayed elsewhere."
"Why would he do that?"
"He was upset at me and his wife."
"What did Mary do?"
"Her past caught up to her. I just gave him some extra information which may not have been a great idea due to the fact that he still hasn't returned."
"Sherlock, don't meddle into people's relationships. You know what happens."
"Do I?"
Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes and scoffed at Sherlock's sarcasm. She brought him a plate of biscuits and a cuppa tea, placing them to the side of his laptop so he wouldn't spill anything over the electronic device. As she began walking back down the stairs, the detective continued his streak of surprising kindness.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."
She paused her descent down the first step and turned around quickly to see if Sherlock had just been joking. A smile came across her features when she saw that he had been serious. Her walking became giddy and she went down to her office, picking up the landline phone to call Lestrade then Mycroft.
But once she rang up the second number, there was a familiar ringtone playing outside of the main door. The landlady went over and opened the front door to reveal the other Holmes brother standing in a suit, as usual, with an umbrella in hand to shield his head from the rainy weather.
"Hello Mrs. Hudson. I'm here for my redundant brother."
"You shouldn't call your own brother such names, Mycroft! It's rude and that word especially isn't true. Sherlock is far from useless."
"Pardon me, he is clueless when it comes down to regular people, not criminal masterminds."
Mrs. Hudson shook her head and went back to her room, allowing for Mycroft to enter and disturb his brother who was working hard on a case. Sherlock's face was immediately annoyed at the presence of his older sibling and he rapidly typed things on his computer.
"What do you want, Mycroft? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Too busy to concern yourself with John's whereabouts, I see."
"What, like you know or care about where he is?"
A file was pulled out from the briefcase Mycroft had been holding, pictures of John inside of it. Including some captured by security cameras the last night. The detective glanced down uninterested, but did a double-take when he realized that his friend had been taken away by force again. The laptop no longer had any of Sherlock's attention, all of it transferred towards the files on the table.
"I really don't. But you do, brother dear. Now that I've got your attention, are you going to leave your flat?" Mycroft spoke.
Sherlock sighed, "Of course."
>>>>
A throbbing, sore pain from his wrists was taking over all feeling in John's body. His breathing became choppy at the constant, fiery rope burns while he struggled to pull off his restraints. He took one deep breath, enough to collect his thoughts and come up with a plan. He spread his legs as far apart as they could go and stood up uncomfortably with the chair bound to him. The legs hovered over the ground before John let his body fall to the ground, breaking the chair under his weight. The rope loops became loose and the doctor freed his arms then searched for any escape routes.
Alarms began to blare and the lights flickered red as he ran out of the room. The hallway was dark and empty while he made his escape attempt. The building looked similar to a hospital- white walls, numbered rooms, curtains over some of the doorways, and office desk space in the middle of the hall. Some dark, wet, fresh bloodstains caused the floor to be a bit slippery and John's running to be sloppy. A pair of women, completely clothed in black, chased behind him in their tall, black heels after bursting through a doorway.
The doctor jumped into an elevator, slamming the "close" button multiple times until the doors shut in front of the two women's faces. John's heavy breathing was the only sound that echoed around the rickety, old elevator moving at such a slow pace while he caught his breath. He thought about the irony of being a doctor and held captive at a hospital, lightly chuckling to himself. The doors dinged open and John charged forwards out of impulse, running straight into a familiar criminal's suit, taking down both men.
"Woah there, tiger." The playful, Irish accent of Jim Moriarty warned.
"Why am I here?" John choked in between inhales of air.
"I wanted to play..." He pouted.
"Where are we?"
"A hospital."
"No shit."
Moriarty gasped, "Such language, John! I'm appalled."
"We're still in London, right?"
"Duh! I'm not concerning myself with flying you all the way to another country just to get Sherly to play with me."
"Where's Molly?"
"Oh, did you not recognize her?"
"Hold on...was that-?"
"Yes, that was Molly chasing you. I like my work girls in uniform. Specifically one inspired by this one movie I watched...it really seemed to fit with what I was going for so now Miss Hooper wears heels, cheeky black clothes, and heavy makeup."
"How is she working for you?"
"She made a deal with me. It's quite binding; unless of course you're alright with suffering a horrible death."
A door in the background swung open, the two Holmes brothers popping into the dark room. Jim smiled without any surprise evident in his face. The brothers remained serious and stepped towards the other two men, almost in complete sync. Mycroft made a slightly pleading expression for his brother that made Moriarty absolutely giddy with the easy submission.
"I'll give you John. On one condition- allow me a single crime to commit. One huge tragedy to blow out thousands of people, but you can't tell anyone about it. I will have monitors watching over your every waking moment to make sure that you don't utter a word about it. There are insiders all over the place, all owing me a debt and paying it off by monitoring you. These people are close to you, so close and you're unsuspecting of them." Jim cheered.
At the same time, all three men gave their responses:
Mycroft- "Interesting."
Sherlock-"Fine."
John- "Don't."
"Ooh, opposing views and one neutral answer. Give me something, Mikey." Moriarty pleaded.
"You know that I can't-" Mycroft began.
Sherlock grabbed his brother's arm, "Please," he whispered.
He rolled his eyes and answered with a huff, "Alright. But you must give us some information on this terrorization attack."
"It's going to happen on the twenty-seventh this month somewhere on this side of the continent. Obviously a national monument-type setting." Moriarty replied, stepping away from John and into the elevator.
"So we've got three days to stop a tragedy and have no help?" John asked.
"Yup." Sherlock confirmed.
"Your welcome, John." Mycroft sassed.
"Yeah, thanks. Oh, and happy Christmas Eve, Mycroft."
"Yes, and to you as well." The so-called "ice man" replied before leaving the two friends alone.
A few silent moments passed while the door shut and awkward silence swept through the chilly, winter air. The doctor looked up at his grim-faced detective friend.
"Home?" He asked.
"Home." Sherlock replied with a nod.
