"How do you think tonight's going to end?"
"Certainly not the way you think it will." Sherlock said haughtily before the man pointing a gun to his head tightened his hold around his neck.
"I wasn't asking you, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock just rolled his eyes and seemed like he was about to open his mouth again when John silenced him with a look. But his eyes swiftly went back to the slim man behind Sherlock, "Let him go…" he said as he adjusted his grip on his own gun. He stared directly into the man's eyes despite the darkness of the room and tried to keep his mind fixed on him as well, but there's was only one thought going through his mind: Sherlock. He had lost him once, and he would do everything he could to never lose him again.
"You know," the man said, "Jim was right about you two, you're so…weak." He pressed the tip of the gun even closer to Sherlock as he spoke and John did his best not to finch; but both he and Sherlock tensed at the name. It had been three years since John had heard it, and the last time it had been in the news, wrapped up in the lie that was Richard Brook.
"Well, he's gone." Sherlock said,
"Are you sure about that?"
36 hours earlier
John stood right outside 427 Park Lane, leaning heavily on his cane as he stared at the yellow tape and tried to decide whether to go in or not. He was about to turn around when he heard Sally Donovan's snarky voice calling his name.
"John Watson… what are you doing here?"
"Lestrade called me."
"He's called you before," she said in that same judgmental tone, "why come now?"
