Daily Johnlock

77.Sherlock's Case

"It's been four days since my brother had last been seen," Mycroft informed John through over phone. "I was just wondering, have you any idea of where he is?"

"I can't say I do," John said, tapping his fingers on the outer case of the phone. "He is probably on a case."

"When was the last you saw him?"

"Strangely he hugged me and told me goodbye."

"You got nothing from that?" Mycroft yell-whispered to John, "Does he just randomly hug you?"

"No, not really..."

Mycroft held the phone away from himself for a few seconds, taking in a breath and shaking his head. He went back to the conversation with a small bit of fear whirling up in the back of his mind. "Alright, do you think you know where he had possibly went?"

"I haven't the slightest."

"I'll call you back later."

"Okay, bye, Mycroft."

"Farewell." Mycroft hung up the phone.

John sighed, setting his phone down. Now that he actually thought about it, Sherlock never really did hug him before going out into a case. He hurried to pick the phone back up and dialed in Lestrade's number.

They chatted over Sherlock's disappearance for a few minutes before deciding they should meet up. Lestrade offered to go to the flat, and John agreed with it.

So later the two were sitting at the flat, discussing subjects about Sherlock.

"So he hugged you, said goodbye, and left?"

"Yeah. I'm worried about him."

"Me too." Lestrade mumbled. "I think we need to set up a case for Sherlock."

John took another sip of his tea, setting the cup back down on the coaster on the table. "But he's gone, he can't solve anything."

"No, John. Sherlock's case."

John's heart broke at that instant. "Sherlock's case, huh? You're going to send out people on a search to find Sherlock?"

"Yes, we need Sherlock back. So many cases would go unsolved without him. I'm sorry, John, I know that it would be hard for you, but will you allow us to look for him?"

"I..." John sighed, he needed Sherlock back. "Yeah, yeah. Please. The sooner he is home the better."

"Exactly." Lestrade smiled, "I'll call out for people to go look for him. Did he seem high or drunk at all when he left?"

"No, he didn't."

"Thank you for the information, John. I will be sure to send the best of detectives to find Sherlock." He smiled comfortingly at John before standing up and leaving. "Nice talkin' to ya."

"Yeah, nice talking to you. Have a good day."

"Good day to you, too, Lestrade."

Once Lestrade left the bustling of emotions crashed down onto John. He felt a complete tornado of sadness take over.

"Sherlock..." John whispered quietly, crossing his arms against his knees and letting his upper body lean down. "Please, come home, Sherlock."

The next week Sherlock's case got progressively bigger. There was absolutely no sign of him. A week, two weeks-- about three and a half weeks passed with no sign of the consulting detective.

Depression took over most of John's life those past weeks. He barely did anything, barely left his room, hardly ate.

He didn't know where his best friend was, the best friend he had lived with for years, and thought it was hard to imagine life without him. Well now life was without him. John told himself he had to see reality, tell himself that Sherlock wouldn't come back. Sherlock was gone.