Authors Note: This is set early when Holmes and Watson are first living and working together. Please excuse any grammatical errors, I'm writing but I'm not a professional writer. I was picturing a young Jude Law/ Ian Hart Watson in this but of course you can picture whatever cast you fancy.

I don't own anything.

Friendship, No Slash.

Part:1

Sherlock Holmes arrived at 221 Bakers street late in the evening after wraping up his latest case. It was a little thing not a case of life or death but it had been a good puzzle. He was please it had all resolved nice and tidy without loose ends and he was eager to tell Watson all about it.

He opened the front door and upon stepping inside was struck by how dark the house was. It wasn't right at all it was only slightly after eight, Mrs. Hudson should not have been in bed. Unless she was ill, he recalled her being very healthy when he left that morning. Yet the house was dark.

Holmes climbed the stairs to the second floor rooms that he and Watson shared. They were just as dark as the down stairs, no fire, no lamps lit. He didn't remember hearing that Watson would be out this evening, there was always the chance that he just hadn't been paying attention, or that Watson had made last minute plans. But for Watson and Mrs. Hudson to both be out at this hour was odd. They could have gone out together he supposed. He dismissed that idea with a slight chuckle and lit a lamp in the sitting room, turning it up high.

Instantly he knew it was not by plan the house was empty.

He scanned the room taking in and analyzing what he saw. Things had been moved, the couch and table had been pushed aside, the area rug was gone. There were marks on the floor that indicated a scuffle. The evening paper and a few books were strewn on the bare floor. Perhaps something had happened to the carpet that Watson had to enlist the help of Mrs. Hudson in disposing of it. Holmes tried to convince himself that something innocent was the cause when he knew it was more likely something sinister.

Holmes moved cautiously through the room trying to glean what had happened from the shoe marks on the floor. Then he heard a noise he didn't expect. It sounded like a sob. There in the dim room he turned around fast but could see no source. Hearing it again it became apparent that the noise was coming from behind couch but the couch was pushed all the way up against the wall.

The closet.

Holmes set the lamp down hastily and by the arm moved the couch away from the wall. In the closet half hidden by coats a softly sobbing Mrs. Hudson sat on the floor.

"Mrs. Hudson." Holmes gently helped the older woman up. She stood "Oh Mr. Holmes..." and sobbed a little harder against his chest. He comforted her the best that he could. She was frightened and trembled in his arms.

"I need you to tell me what happened." He stated as calmly as he could in his urgent need to know.

"Oh Dr. Watson..." Mrs. Hudson cried mournfully.

"Please Mrs. Hudson I need the details of what happened here tonight." His plea seemed to reach her and she tearily began to recount.

"I was getting ready to prepare supper. The doctor was here in the sitting room reading as he often does in the evening. There was a knocking at the door that I promptly answered. I wish I had not. As soon as I unlocked it two men pushed their way in and up the stairs. I ran after them insisting they stop at once. The young doctor came to see what the trouble was. They had weapons with them..." Mrs. Hudson sobbed loudly at the thought.

"Continue." Holmes prompted with baited breath.

"They hit him, the man must have had a club. Dr. Watson came out of the sitting room, the men pushed him back. Before the doctor could do anything to stop him the man hit him just above his knee. Oh it was a horrible horrible thing. The pain on poor Dr. Watson's face. Can you believe it a cold terrible thing to do to a wounded veteran no less. Dr. Watson fell to the floor clutching his leg unable to defend himself. I tried to get to him. I would have liked to have gotten between the poor man and those creatures. But the one grabbed me and shut me in the closet. The last I saw the other man was standing over the doctor with an evil smile on his face." Mrs. Hudson moved around and dropped down onto the couch and wrung the handkerchief Holmes gave her.

"You say these men went straight upstairs and attacked Dr. Watson?" Holmes interrogated. Mrs. Hudson nodded in conformation. "They said nothing?"

"Not a word that I heard." She sniffled.

"And you said the man hit Watson in the leg with a club? Which leg?"

"Why his right one, Mr. Holmes. The one that was wounded. That's why he was in such pain he couldn't fight them off, I'm sure"

"When he came from the sitting room he using a cane?" Holmes began to put pieces of the puzzle in place.

"No he wasn't using it, he was carrying it as if he might hit someone with it." Holmes could picture his friend clear as day, he had often used his cane as a weapon.

"Was he limping?" Mrs. Hudson thought about the question.

"I couldn't say if he was limping or not in that moment, but you know as well as I how much stronger and healthier Dr. Watson has been getting these past few months."

"Yes yes I do." Holmes peered across the dimly lit room, his friend had been doing very well recently. "So these men came with an objective. They knew Watson, or at least of him."

"Oh dear, you don't think... oh my." Mrs. Hudson started to get hysterical once more.

"Calm your self, I do not think they have killed him, at least they did not do it here. I surmise they knocked him unconscious, rolled him in the carpet, and then carried him out of here as if they were innocent moving men." Holmes picked up the lamp and took Mrs. Hudson by the arm. "Come. You should alert the police and see if your friend Mrs. Warren will come and sit with you to calm your nerves." Holmes left Mrs. Hudson in the dark downstairs hallway. "I must follow the trail."

The trail wasn't hard to pick up. After questioning people in the area Holmes found that there had indeed been two men who took a carpet from his residence that evening. The paper seller on the corner had even seen the name on the cart the men had driven away in. 'Mr. Wick Resale Dealer'

It was only a matter then of finding where the cart had gone. By all accounts it was headed east when it left Bakers Street.

It wasn't hard to find after that, the men had made very little attempt to cover their tracks. Perhaps they were amateurs and knew no better. But they certainly seemed to know Dr. Watson surely they would know that he worked and lived with the detective Sherlock Holmes. Which meant they either wished to be caught or more unnerving to Holmes they did not care if they were caught.

Holmes followed the trail diligently for two hours, which meant that Watson had been in their possession rough five hours. The trail lead to a boarded up storefront in south east London. The cart that Holmes had been following was in the alleyway beside the store carelessly left where anyone could find it.

The windows were not boarded as tightly as they could have been making it possible for Holmes to peer through gap in the boards. The front of the store was vacant but Holmes could easily see that the back of the store was not. It was well lit. Moving cautiously down the alley, Holmes looked for another window in or something that would tell him who he was dealing with.

Luck was with him. There was a door into the alley and it opened. Ducking behind a stack of crates the detective could now see two of his friend's captors. Probably the same two who had abducted Watson. They looked gruff in the harsh lamp light as one held the door and the other picked up a bucket from outside.

They were military men that was clear from their stance and mannerisms if not their appearance. They were ex military in fact Holmes was reassured of this by the fact that one of the men only had one arm.

The man with one arm pulled the door closed quickly behind the man with the bucket. There was however an open vent above the closed door that Holmes only needed to get up too to see in.

he deftly moved the crates he had been hiding behind so that he could stand on them and see down through the vent.

The inside was brightly lit. As his eyes adjusted his heart broke. He'd found Watson.

TBC...