Johnlock One-shots

264.Surprise, John

John sighed quietly as his pencil moved across the paper quickly. He fumbled with the uncomfortable way he was holding it and the metallic spring that went through the notebook to hold it all together. Sometimes he hated being left handed, because notebooks were made for people that uses their right hands to write.

He was frustrated with the task Sherlock gave him. He was currently busy looking up Brian B. Clive, or as he was known on the streets and in prison, BBC, a clever serial killer that escaped from prison not too long ago.

BBC was the prime suspect for a string of murders that currently devastated London. Ever since his escape, women and men have been disappearing all throughout the city, sometimes their bodies were found, and other times they weren't.

Right now Sherlock was gone. He had woken up in the morning and tasked John with research, then kissed his forehead and went off before he could say anything about it. John was still half asleep when he was given the job and he slept for a few more hours before waking, so he needed to catch up. He hated researching.

John looked up as he heard something in the the bedroom fall over. He shrugged it off as something simple falling over for a reasonable explanation. He turned back down to the laptop he had and the notebook, continuing to write.

He heard something fall again and then someone shout. He turned around again. “Hello?” He asked, frowning softly. He couldn't see someone. It must've been Mrs Hudson. But no, the shout sounded masculine. A man made it. “Sherlock?” He asked, everything was silent. John wearily got back to work, trying to ignore the bad feeling he had in the back of his head.

John jumped and screamed when he felt strong hands grip firmly onto his shoulder. He turned around and looked up, gasping and what he saw. He tried to get away but he was being pulled down.

“Interesting, what you were looking up…” the man said, amused.

“Please don't kill me, I have a husband and daughter,” John pleaded, putting his hands together. “please, I can't die. He needs me.They need me.” John was a strong man but he was cowering, unable to move. He remembered Mrs Hudson taking Rosamund out for a fun day, so there was nobody that could hear him scream.

The big bulky man holding him down was BBC, the man he was just researching. He must've figured he'd take John or Sherlock down, or found his way into their flat, not knowing who they were.

BBC smiled crudely, picking John up by his shoulders, a tight grip on him. It made John wince in pain.

“I'm going to tear out your heart, show it to you, then shove it into your body…” BBC said, holding John and walking away. He set him down on the floor and punched him hard, knocking him out. Then he put a sack over him and walked out.

---- When Sherlock comes home hours later.

“Hoonnney, I'm home!” Sherlock announced jokingly, stepping inside the flat. He smiled a little and looked around for John, wondering where he was. He took off his coat and hung it up, looking around.

He checked the bathroom and the bedroom, and upstairs in Rosamund's room, but he couldn't find John.

“John!” He called frowning. Sherlock took out his phone and called John, only to hear his ringtone in the other room.

Sherlock smiled a little at the ringtone. How cliché. He thought, picking up the phone. A love song.

There was no reason for John to be anywhere but home, so Sherlock was confused. He reminded himself that John was fired at his job in the hospital and that Mrs Hudson took Rosie out, that they had everything they needed at the moment and John wouldn't have been shopping. Why did he leave his phone?

Sherlock observed the scene, his laptop was on the ground and the notebook was laying by it, the pencil near the notebook. He took out his magnifying glass and searched the ground.

He found something and picked it up, sniffing it. “Chewing tobacco?” He asked, looking at it in his fingers. Sherlock tasted it, then pulled it away in disgust. He stood up and looked around.

Then suddenly, it hit him.

He dropped his magnifying glass and looked at the room. John was… gone.

---- John again yAAAY

John faught to keep back his tears as the rough fabric of the sack around him brushed against his face, his new ropes that were tied around his wrists making his fingers tingle as blood tried to move their way through his body. Everything was so tight it hurt, and the bits of tobacco in this bag was making him want to hurl, but he was aware of the consequences. He was laid down on the floor and BBC took him out of the bag.

Being a small man, John was sort of intimated. BBC must've been a giant in a past life. He was tall and big and had a lot of muscles. “Let me back home…” he pleaded, whining. “I bet Sherlock is calling the police right now!” He yelled, wiggling around on the floor.

“Sherlock?” BBC asked. “Sherlock Holmes? The hat detective? Oi! I captured a celebrity’s spouse!” He laughed, his laughing made John shiver and cower against the wall. “This is going to be fantastic.”

Tears started to burn John's eyes. He let them go, trickling down his face and shining against the only light of the room, which barely came through the window.

“What are you going to do with me--” John screamed when he felt a whip against his chest. He pressed himself against the wall and curled up. “Please… please…” he knew the fate of all the other victims. Begging was worthless.

“Aw, cute,” BBC hit John, earning another cry and another whimper. “you're just going to lay there and wait for your hero to come get you?”

“Then I'm not too late!”

BBC whipped around, Sherlock was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a knowing expression.

*Close up on BBC’s terrified face*

“Sherlock Holmes!” He yelled. “Maybe you may be able to save your husband, or maybe you will not!” He laughed evilly and picked John up, swung him over his shoulder, and started running down another hall.

Sherlock chased the man. “John!” He yelled, reaching out. John whined and reached out with his tied together hands, trying to grab onto Sherlock.

Sherlock grabbed John's hand, but it was pulled away immediately. “BBC! Let go of my husband!” He pulled out his gun and shot BBC in the leg, making him fall over. Sherlock picked up John and untied him, then kissed him dramatically. John set a hand on Sherlock's chest and the other on his waist, Sherlock's hand was on his back, tipping him over just a bit.

The police came flooding in and Sherlock took John home, thanking him for helping the case get solved and apologising for whatever happened to him.