Chemicals And Deduction: Sherlock X Reader

Ten

*Sherlock POV*

I drop Y/N off outside her house, slightly worried about her and if she is going to throw up everywhere before passing out in a pool of her own vomit. I'm sure she'll be fine, I tell myself logically. I go back to the cab and head to Scotland Yard. My mind is buzzing. Names, what could that mean? I get there and head straight to Gavin's office. I need the notes on the suicides. 

I run up the stairs two at a time, different theories running through my head at a million miles an hour.
Names, names, names. What does that mean? Not first names, both two obvious and wrong. It doent make sense, too many of the same letters. Surnames? No, also too obvious. God, what else. Think think think THINK. Names of what? Childhood pets? Siblings? Best friend's cousin twice removed? That's too complicated, I doubt the killer would really be bothered to find that out. No, no, no all wrong. NOTHING IS RIGHT, FOR GOD'S SAKE. Wait... Street names! Perfect. I stop on the stairs and think. It would most likely be the first letter of the street names. Fucking hell, that's so obvious, why didn't I see this before? Probibly due to the fact that I was making out with Y/N. Damn it, this is why we don't do sentement Sherlock.

I need to go and see Lestrade.

I enter the office by slamming the door open. His head jerks upwards violently, from where it had been resting in his hands. "Jesus Sherlock! Yo..." I cut him off. I dont care about what he's got to say. I ignore the urgency and fear in his voice. There are more important things at hand. The case Sherlock.

"I need all the names of the streets that the victims died on" I demand

"Sherlock, there's something..."

"NAMES, GIVE ME THE NAMES!" I shout, startling him, as I  spin on my heels to face him. He opens a draw of his desk and pulls a pile of papers before sliding them in front of me. His hand is shaking slightly. I skatter the papers in front of me so I can see the different street names. I scan my eyes down the paper looking at the first letters. It gives the letters - A, A, A, D,D, E, E, E, E, F, H, H, I, I, I, L, M, M, M, M, N, O, O, S, S, S, T, T, U, V, and finally, Y (possibly the only road in the whole of England that begins with Y)
I picture the 31 letters in front of me and re-arrange them mentally.  This can't be right, I can't make them make any sense. I focus for a solid 3 seconds, my eyes closed, before hitting myself on the head. It's so obvious! Oh God, this isn't good.

Did you miss me? I have the name of last. M

"HE'S SUPPOST TO BE DEAD!" I yell hitting my hand on the table. I open my eyes, and to my surprise Lestrade has moved from his desk to standing right in front of me. He's obviously startled again. 

"Who's supposed to be dead? Sherlock listen..."

"Moriarty of course. Its a full message Lestrade, means he's moving on to something new." I start to pase, head buzzing with ideas and full of anger. He's supposed to be dead.

"Sherlock..." Lestrade tries to get my attention but I wave him away. I'm thinking.

"'I have the name of last' what does that mean? Think Sherlock think."

"SHERLOCK!" Gareth yells and I turn towards him, impatient now. He grabs a peice of paper from his desk and shoves it towards me. "The name, the last suicide note had Y/N's name on it"
I look down at the paper in my hand and back up at Lestrade who is clearly worried.

"I have the name of last... Shit Y/N is in trouble. We need to go." I turn and open the door to leave and start running down the hallway and down the stairs.

"Well that's what I've been trying to fucking tell you! She's not picking up their phone either." Lestrade yells after me whilst picking up his phone and coat and following me outside Scotland Yard. I hail a taxi and practically shout the address at the driver as we get in.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and call John, praying that he picks up."Come on, come on, come on...." I mutter under my breath whilst the cheerful "Hi, this is John Watson, unfortunately I can't be reached right now, but.... ". I hang up and try again. John never has his phone on silent.

Bringbring
Bringbring
Bringbring

"Sherlock, what the Hell? Where are you?" a sleepy John angrily murmurs at me. It's his day off of course he was asleep. That and his date with Mary tired him out.

"John, shut up. Y/N has been kidnapped-"

"-We don't know that they've been kidnapped" Lestrade unhelpfully buts in.

"Yes we do, she's been kidnapped by Moriarty"

"But he's-" John starts

"Dead, yes I know"

"Sherlock she was here like, less than
6 hours ago how did you mess up that badly?"

"I'll explain later, I'm sending you Y/N's address. Meet us there." I hang up and send the address to John. God if Y/N wasn't so bloody drunk we could have worked the rest of the case until we found the last suicide note, then we would have had warning. Moriarty must have known that we left before we found it, of course he did. Where could Moriarty have taken Y/N? Think Sherlock, think. The cab pulled up and I jump out, leaving Lestrade to pay.

I slowly push open the unlocked door, one hand holding the gun in my pocket. Noone is inside. I relax and look around. No sign of a struggle. She wouldn't have gone willingly, so she was drugged. Her keys and phone weren't anywhere in the flat. The shoes that she was wearing when I left her aren't here either so she didn't even have the chance to take them off before being taken, must have just been seconds after I left. "I was just here, FUCK" I kick the wall.

"You were just here?" Lestrade questions.

"Yes, she was drunk and I was accompanying her home."

"And you failed to see someone manage to kidnap her?"

"Yes Lestrade, thank you for that very helpful comment Lestrade" I glare at him and he makes the great decision to shut up, thankfully.

Where could they be? The swimming pool? No, too obvious, wayyyy to obvious. He wants me to find her though, it's like John and the pool all over again. Fuck. Where are they? Somewhere that is linked to the case. Or a past case. Think. Somewhere not blindingly obvious but not too hard to find. They would have thought about tracking her GPS so that isn't an option. There's 31 crime scenes to look at, where clues could be hiding. THINK!

Suddenly John's footsteps were outside the door, and I turn just in time to see him burst into the room. "Where is she?!" He barely manages to say due to his running and therefore lack of breath.

I run my hands through my hair a couple times, ordering my thoughts, trying to grasp at a clue. I make direct eye contact with John.

Fuck

"I-I don't know."

~

Oh my god only took me 3 years to publish another chapter but that's what isolation does to you I guess. Logged in and saw I had some love so thought fuck it.
~ Floss xx