He is definitely in danger - A Johnlock fanfic

Chapter one

John was standing in line, awkwardly trying to look over the shoulder of the man standing in front of him who was completely blocking his view, to try and see how long of a queue there was left. He didn't actually like Crispy Chris's fish & chips that much, but he was sure Sherlock hadn't eaten and he also knew the detective would never say no to a packet of that warm fried comfort food. At least he hoped so, because Sherlock had lately been particulary distant, meaning he hadn't been eating much – nor sleeping. 

Sherlock had been really focused on his current case, even though he hadn't involved John in it at all, so John wasn't sure whether it was actually the case that was... upsetting him? John still tried to insist that it didn't hurt him a bit and that, on the contrary, he was happy to have a break from running around, solving crimes and cases.

But when he stepped into the flat at 221B, Baker Street, he could no longer lie to himself, because what he saw made him feel like someone was making meatballs out of his stomach: the room was completely empty. He checked in Sherlock's bedroom and in the bathroom before accepting that no one was there. He suddenly realised he was looking forward to spending the evening watching the telly, eating fish and chips, and distantly listening to Sherlock thinking out loud (and showing off) on his case or being completely silent whilst in his Mind Palace. Sherlock probably was out investigating away and wanted to work alone on this job. In fact, why would he need John?

A sigh escaped the doctor's lips as he sank into his armchair, not even bothering to take off his shoes, even though he loved being comfy and barefooted at home. He turned on the telly, leaving it on a history documentary, and dug into one of the two steaming portions, but as he was about to sink his teeth in a chip, he stopped. The hook by the door caught his attention. As Sherlock was out, it was supposed to be empty, but the consulting detective's coat was hanging there, floppy, like a soulless body. It looked better when Sherlock was wearing it. John ignored that thought which had just crossed his mind. Of course Sherlock had lots of coats, but he kept the spare ones in his wardrobe, not on the hook by the door. John tossed aside his fish and chips and hurried into his friend's bedroom. He opened the wardrobe and counted five coats. That was the exact number of spare coats Sherlock owned (John wouldn't have realised that it wasn't all flatmates who knew that kind of information even if he hadn't been so worried like he was in that moment). Sherlock wouldn't have left the flat without his coat even if it hadn't been late November. Something was wrong. John grabbed his phone from his pocket, opened the "frequently called contacts" on the screen and pressed the first name. He repeated this four times, but no one answered. This wasn't a guarantee of Sherlock being in danger, since he often ignored his phone, but John started to worry more nonetheless.

John didn't hesitate to grab his gun and put it in his pocket before rushing back down the stairs. Mrs Hudson was by him in a second when she heard him. "Oh, John, there you are! Sherlock left in a hurry as well some time ago. Are you on an important case?" Sherlock would have shut the door behind him without bothering to reply, but John managed to say a "Yep" before jumping out on Baker Street and calling for a cab.

John watched London's streets go by in a blur of rain as the cab drove without a specific direction. An itchy voice in his mind was telling him "Sherlock would know how to find you" but John tried to ignore it. One thing he'd learned living with Sherlock was that you could easily lose confidence in your cleverness, so he just tried to remember not everyone had Sherlock's brain. He took out his phone again to try and contact his best friend one more time, when an idea suddenly struck his mind. Please, please, please he thought to himself as he opened the Friend Tracker app. He smiled – Sherlock hadn't turned off his location on his phone. He usually did when he didn't want anyone to follow him. The map showed John that his friend – or at least his phone- was currently in an alley in South London. John quickly told the taxi driver the directions, and the cab sped up.

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Hi! This is my fisrt Sherlock story. Let me know what you think, and any suggestions are welcome. Also, English is not my native language so forgive me for any mistakes and please tell me if you see any :)