I Don't Deserve You (A Johnlock Fic)

Chapter Eleven

Sherlock was pacing.

He absolutely loathed pacing.

He forced himself to stop, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. Only idiots paced, idiots who didn't have a better way to deal with their problems.

He glanced at the clock on the wall for the millionth time.

One hour. John had gone to get milk one hour ago. Sherlock may not go to buy milk often, but he did know that it didn't take a full hour.

Had something happened? Or was he just paranoid? John had probably just been sidetracked.

Sherlock resumed pacing.

His eyes locked on his phone as the light reflected off it.

Of course, how did he not think of this solution earlier?

He would simply call John.

Pleased that he had finally found a way to reassure himself that John was in fact okay, Sherlock dialled his number and brought the phone up to his ear.

The deceive froze, disappointment and irritation filling him as he heard Johns ringtone coming from the bedroom.

Of course today had to be the day John left his phone at home.

Sherlock jabbed the end call button with perhaps a little more force than was strictly necessary.

Half an hour, Sherlock reasoned with himself. He would wait another half an hour, and if John wasn't home by then, he'd go to the police station to begin his search.

.........

Less than 20 minutes later Sherlock was striding into the station, his thoughts furious.

There was no way John would have gotten side tracked, he wouldn't leave Sherlock alone for so long without warning at a time like this.

Someone must have taken him, possibly the same people that had Lestrade and Mycroft.

"I need this number plate run," Sherlock  told the lady at the desk curtly, handing her a scrap of paper with DT24 AVM written on it.

She paused in confusion, then nodded as she recognised the detective.

"Will this help with the case concerning Inspector Lestrade?" She asked anxiously.

"Perhaps," Sherlock replied vaguely, tapping his fingers impatiently as he waited for her to finish.

She hesitated, frowning.

"This cab was reported missing three days ago-"

The phone sitting on the desk next to her rang.

She threw Sherlock an apologetic glance, then answered it.

"Uh-huh, was anyone injured in the accident? Also what was the number plate?"

She froze, eyeing Sherlock.

"I understand, where was it? Uh-huh, just a sec."

She looked up at Sherlock. "The car that was reported missing has just been found - it was in an accident. There was no one there to say what happened."

A stab of worry hit Sherlock's heart. John.

"Tell them not to touch anything," he ordered sharply and the woman nodded, repeating his request.

"Come on, I'll drive you." She offered, grabbing her keys and Sherlock nodded, already walking out the door.

.........

The secretary chatted the entire ride to the crash site, something about how Sherlock was a legend and how thrilled she was to be 'working' with him.

Sherlock was too worried to take any notice of her. Not that he would have cared anyway.

They pulled up near where the cab from earlier had ploughed straight into the side of a building.

The panic in Sherlock's chest flared and he jumped out the car, rushing to the crashed vehicle. It didn't look too serious, but even minor accidents could lead to severe injury.

A glance reassured him there were no bodies, but not knowing what had happened to John was still making it difficult for the detective to think clearly.

He walked around the car quickly, assessing the damage.

Driver had probably lost control, it had rained recently and the ground was still wet, perhaps his tires slid.

Sherlock got to the front of the car and did a double take.

The front was smashed up, but the damage was extremely minor considering what the impact would have been.

Sherlock closed his eyes and played the scene out in his mind.

The car would have been going quite fast, it wasn't a busy time of day. It was slightly down hill, the car would have sped up even more as the driver lost control. The car should be completely wrecked, there was no way the driver would be able to get out and walk away without a trace.

"This was no accident," Sherlock said curtly.

He glanced in the car window, nothing.

He began scanning the area around the car, looking for something, anything.

A footprint, showing clearly in the mud.

He crouched down to examine it. The shoe was roughly size 8, and the depth of the imprint suggested heavy work boots.

The mark it left was an odd colour, orange red next the dark brown mud.

Sherlock dragged his finger through it and frowned. It seemed to be mostly mud, but the colour was from a fine dust. It looked familiar, but he couldn't think why.

The secretary looked over his shoulder.

"Huh, that's strange." She commented, looking thoughtful.

"What? What's strange?" Sherlock demanded, trying to quell the despair that came with having no idea where to go from where he was.

"The dust in the mud, well it looks like it's from iron ore. It's strange that it's here. After all, there aren't any mines nearby and the closest processing factory closed down years ago."

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, his mind whirling.

Iron ore, and the closest place it could have come from was abandoned.

"Where is this factory?" He inquired sharply, standing up and brushing the mud off his hand.

"About an hour or so south of here, I know the way." She sounded excited, and Sherlock was reminded of the thrill he and John got from a case.

He wasn't feeling that thrill like this woman, although she probably spend all her time behind a desk. This was probably the most excitement she'd had in years.

"What is your name again?" He asked politely as they walked back to her car. John would have been very irritated that he didn't ask earlier.

She smiled widely. "I'm Audrey."

"Well Audrey, lets go get our friends back," Sherlock said, confident now that he had a lead.