Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

XXVII • 27

Your POV: The next day

John had told you if he wasn't back by tonight that you could start looking for him. But you were getting continually frantic and had no intention of waiting that long.
"He's still gone, Kenz. I'm honestly worried now."
Even she looked concerned. "It is very strange." She replied. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to find him, but I haven't the slightest idea where to start." You wrung your hands, getting more stressed by the minute.
"Okay kiddo, first of all, freaking out isn't going to bring him back. If you're gonna find him, you need to calm down and think logically."
"He would like you." You said with a small smile.
Her mouth quirked up and she winked. "Ah but he's all yours."
You turned red. "What about logically?" You sat on the edge of the bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself.
"You need to find a starting place. Wandering around London isn't going to help."
You nodded. You'd learned from experience that you should always listen to Kenzie in situations like this. She always managed to stay calm and logical.
"What's the name of the inspector who gives him most his cases?"
"Greg?"
"Yeah, that's the one. Start with him."
You jumped up and shoved your feet in your shoes.
"Are you gonna come?" You asked this, not expectantly like Sherlock always asked you, but pleadingly.
"Of course." She smiled. "Gimme a sec."

******

"Greg!" You called, nearly out of breath.
You and Kenzie had gone up to his office only to find out that he had just minutes ago left for his lunch break. The two of you had practically ran all the way back to the car park and saw him heading out.
"(F/N)! What's going on?" He turned and smiled when he saw you.
You took a moment to catch your breath. "I need your help." You finally managed.
He looked surprised. "What's happened?"
"It's Sherlock. He's missing."
"Missing? (F/N), He's gone out for days before without any word."
"I know, but it's different this time. I can just tell."
He bit his lip and looked back for a second, as though contemplating whether or not to take you seriously. Eventually his sentiment for both you and Sherlock won over.
"I'm going to get a bite. Tell me about it over lunch."
"Thank you." You sighed, grateful that he was willing to help.

******

The three of you were seated at a sandwich shop not far from the Yard.
"He's been gone since yesterday afternoon, early afternoon. At first I thought nothing of it, but I noticed he'd left his phone. He never leaves his phone, except for once. He left his phone the one time he talked to Moriarty personally. That's why I'm worried."
Greg shook his head, partially in confusion, partially in pity. "Listen
(F/N), I've known him for ten years. He does this."
Kenzie interjected here; "Inspector Lestrade. It may be nothing, it's probably nothing, but for both our sakes, and John too, just take a look." She'd leaned forward, her forearms supporting her on the table.
You had seen Kenzie use this tone before. She could be very convincing when she wanted to.
"Okay, okay." Greg held up his hands in surrender.
He finished his lunch, leaving you and Kenzie waiting anxiously.
Greg pushed his chair back, then stood.
"Where does he generally go? You said he's done this many times." You asked him, your voice laced with worry.
Greg looked thoughtful. "I'm not su-" He stopped halfway through. His expression went from thoughtful to horrified. He sat back down.
"What is it?" You demanded, sure you couldn't stand it anymore.
"It was years ago... Four, five..." He trailed off.
"What was years ago?" You insisted.
"The last time I clearly remember him being gone for more than a night... We found him.." He trailed off once again, his expression looked distant.
You wanted to scream at him, rattle him until he spoke, but you swallowed your anger and stayed as patient as you could.
He finally began again without prodding. He looked up, sorrow in his eyes. "We found him in a drug den. All his "friends" were junkies.." He used air quotes for sarcastic emphasis. "He was in the hospital for a week, he wouldn't have lasted much longer if we hadn't found him." He looked sad.
You felt shocked, and you were sure your face emanated your feelings.
"John told me..." You couldn't finish the sentence. John had told you that he'd had a drug problem. But he said he'd gotten over it. And he never hinted at the severity of it.