Before I Began To Grow

Chapter Seven

John groaned when Sherlock went back to the discovery channel.

''Oh, can we not? I think I know enough about jellyfish or monkeys or...any of those Goddamn things!''

Sherlock frowned at John. ''I thought you were enjoying it. All you had to do was say so.'' He tossed John the remote.

John felt a small pang of guilt, but hid it. ''...Whatever.'' John mumbled.

Suddenly, Sherlock jumped up from his seat. He walked over to the coat stand and grabbed his coat. ''I've had enough. I'm going out.''

John's eyes widened. ''You can't go out! There's a killer out for me!''

Sherlock barely heard John, and anyway, his judgment had been clouded by hate and hurt.

''Oh, you're a big boy. You can look after yourself.'' Sherlock spat bitterly, storming out of the apartment.

John winced as he heard the door slam, shaking the house.

''What the bloody...?'' John muttered under his breath. He shook his head and made himself get out of his seat.

John was scared. He had felt safe once Sherlock was with him...but, now, as he walked down to make sure the doors were bolted, his heart hammered in his chest.

John locked all the locks on the door. He felt physically ill. He was tempted to call Sherlock to come call back. He would beg. Anything. John didn't want to be tortured. John didn't want to die. He also realised something he never thought he'd feel, but...John was scared to leave Sherlock on his own, now that he saw how broken Sherlock was, John was worried...and he cared. He cared an awful amount. John couldn't help it. He had fall-

John froze as he heard a door creek open from behind him. All thoughts of Sherlock scattered. John could feel his heart pounding everywhere. His head, his chest, his whole body. His mouth had gone dry, and he licked his nervously, hoping to find some hydration. 

                                                                                         *

Sherlock walked along the streets of his beloved city, grumbling to himself and trying not to break down or shout out in fury. He knew he should be back there with John, he knew how frightened the doctor would be.

Sherlock felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He answered it as soon as he saw it was Lestrade.

''Hello-''

''YOU LEFT JOHN ALONE? WHAT THE HELL WOULD DO THAT FOR-''

''Calm down. I was just on my way back. Why do you care anyway?''

''Sherlock!'' Lestrade barked, obviously annoyed. ''He's missing! He's gone!''

Sherlock felt the colour drain from his face. ''No...no, you're lying.''

''I'm not bloody lying, Sherlock.'' Lestrade shouted down the phone, before softening his tone. ''Why would I lie about this?''

Sherlock felt tears well up in his eyes, he spun around in a circle, trying to make sense of the overwhelming fear and guilt he was feeling.

''Where is he now? How can I find before they do anything?''

Sherlock heard Lestrade sigh. ''Well, since you only let us install cameras in your kitchen and hallway...we were worried that we mightn't actually see any of it...but...''

''But, what?''

''Sherlock we saw everything. It's...bad. They've already hurt him.''

Sherlock felt tears slip down his cheeks.