Title: Experiment in Warehouse 7
Paring(s): Up to your interpretation; hints of John/Sherlock & Lestrade/Molly
Rating: T
Summary: Sherlock attempts to test just how far his "friends" will go for him in a little experiment that involves John, Lestrade, Molly, and surprisingly, Mycroft. Until a Consulting Criminal interrupts with an experiment of his own.

A/N: Set in season two, post-Hounds, pre-Reichenbach (cue gross sobbing) so do expect some spoilers. A scene in HoB inspired the premise for this. If I've made any grammatical and spelling errors, or just any errors in general, please let me know! I'll be sure to look over them and use your criticisms to improve my writing for future chapters/stories. Reviews, favorites, alerts, etc, are very much appreciated. With that said, please enjoy and thank you for reading!

Chapter 1: Collecting the Pieces

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade had gotten the phone call from Sherlock at approximately 1:20 in the morning.

He woke up with a start, the shrill cry of his ringtone nearly giving him a heart attack. After he had settled things with his wife and she had left, the house was quieter and though there was one less person in the home than he was used to, sleep (not surprisingly) came much more easily to him. His eyes cracked open and he squinted to read the caller ID: Sherlock Holmes. Lestrade stared at it for a moment, thinking it was peculiar for the Consulting Detective to call. Everyone knew he preferred to text.

He answered, "Sherlock?"

The response was immediate and the man on the other line sounded as cool and collected as ever, "Lestrade."

"What is it? It's rare for you to call and at this time of night." He yawned as he leaned back against the bed's headboard.

"John and I were inspecting a series of abandoned warehouses in correspondence to a client's request, but it seems that we've been trapped. And no, there's no way out from the inside. But whoever's behind this is an idiot. His men didn't even think to confiscate my phone. I need you to come and open the garage from the outside."

Lestrade swung his legs over the bed and got up. With the phone tucked between his shoulder and cheek, he rummaged through his drawers for a clean pair of trousers and muttered into the phone, "Yeah, okay. Should I bring the team with me?"

As soon as he said it, he knew Sherlock was going to think it was a stupid question, "Of course, Inspector, if you can't even manage to break a chained lock on your own."

Lestrade sighed, "Right, right. So, where are you?" He pulled out tan trousers and sat back on the bed, kicking his legs through the holes.

"I'll text you the address." And Sherlock hung up.

Seconds later, Lestrade's phone gave a single beep as Sherlock's text arrived. He read it and nodded in response. He found a hammer in his tool set, slipped on a coat, and left his flat to catch a cab. Or, at least, that was the plan. Before he could do anything beyond putting trousers and a shirt on, two men in black rushed into his room and knocked him unconscious.

Molly Hooper had gotten the phone call from Sherlock at approximately 7:31 at night, when she was watching re-runs of Doctor Who with her cat, Toby, curled comfortably on her lap.

When her phone chimed, she immediately reached for it. The name on called ID sent her heart thumping: Sherlock Holmes.

She unconsciously began smoothing her hair, picking at her face, catching a quick glimpse of her reflection in the mirror hanging above the fireplace, before realizing sooner or later, the ringing would stop, and she answered, her voice high and coming out as a barely-audible squeak, "H-hello?" She wanted to kick herself.

"Molly, listen carefully. In about 10 minutes, two men in black suits are going to break into your flat. They're going to take you to an abandoned warehouse and you're going to cooperate with them. Don't do anything stupid; just do what they say. Do you understand?"

Molly was completely dumbfounded. She could barely keep up with what Sherlock was saying – he was speaking far too quickly, but yes, she did understand the basics. People in black suits were coming. Coming for her. Why?

"Wait, why are they coming for me?"

"Not the problem right now. I asked if you understood what I told you."

"Y-yes."

"Good. From what I've seen, they're all morons. John and I were close enough to hear their plan, which is why I called you. Most likely, they'll bring you to the same warehouse we've been trapped in. Remember, don't be stupid." And he hung up.

Molly sank into her sofa, trembling a bit. She had been on the phone with Sherlock for just over a minute. That meant, according to Sherlock, she had the next nine minutes or so to mentally prepare herself. But Sherlock had said that they were going to take her to where he was and that, somehow, put her mind and heart at ease. At least she wasn't going to be alone.

The next nine minutes were dreadfully slow, yet alarmingly fast at the same time. Like Sherlock had said, two men came into her flat and Molly did just as she was told.

Mycroft Holmes had gotten the phone call from Sherlock at exactly noon, when he was enjoying a hot cup of tea in his office and reading through a file. He answered with a sigh, "Yes?"

"Hello, brother dear!"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. That was the disgustingly friendly tone of his younger brother when he needed a favour. "What do you want, Sherlock?"

"I'm doing an experiment."

Mycroft could feel a migraine building in his head, "What is it this time?"

"I guess the gang's all together now…"

Everyone except Sherlock turned to look at Lestrade, who had only thrown out the comment in order to lighten the mood. He could tell that it hadn't served its purpose.

The Inspector had woken up on the cold concrete floor of Warehouse #7 nearly 20 minutes ago and sat up to find that he was the final piece in completing what he aptly named "The Improbable-and-Unusually-Awkward Circle of Friends".

To his left was Molly, sitting with her legs crossed. She was staring down at her twiddling thumbs and occasionally darting glances at Sherlock, then John, and finally, himself.

To his right was John Watson, sitting up straight and perfectly still. When he caught Lestrade looking at him, he gave a small smile.

Now, directly across from him, but sitting a little too far out to be perfectly part of the circle, was Sherlock Holmes. He was leaning against a wooden crate, head forward, eyes closed, brows knitted together, and hands making dramatic motions, as if he were directing a movie set. After half an hour of just watching, Lestrade finally asked John, "What's he doing?"

"Oh, he's trying to piece together who could've done this. He's gone to his Mind Palace and he's been there for a few hours. Normally, he prefers to be alone, but seeing as we can't exactly go anywhere… He'll probably come back in a little bit if he finds something or if he gets too frustrated to keep at it." John explained like it was something he had seen every day. Lestrade had seen Sherlock think, but not like that. He didn't really get it, but then again, he never thought Sherlock was someone just any man could completely understand.

Suddenly, Sherlock's eyes shot open and he sprung up on his feet, growling, "It doesn't make any sense!"

"Sherlock?" John looked up at his flatmate.

Sherlock began to pace back and forth, his great coat swishing behind him. He threw his hands in the air and turned on his heels, jabbing his finger towards Molly, "What did the two men who brought you here look like?"

Molly jumped at the sudden attention, "Um, well, they were wearing suits, just like you said. One of them was about your height and the other was a little taller than the Inspector," she gave a small nod of acknowledgement towards Lestrade, who smiled in return, "the first person had blond hair, parted down the middle and a clean-shaven face, while the other had greying hair and he was an older man. Both of them had blue eyes."

Sherlock steepled his fingers against his chin in thought, "Good, excellent. Lestrade, judging by the fact that you were the only one unconscious, you were too disoriented to get details, but you should be able to remember if the men who assaulted you were the same who brought Molly."

Lestrade shook his head, "I caught a glimpse of them before I blacked out and I'm pretty sure both of them had brown hair."

"That's four people and there were a group of five discussing their plans when me and Sherlock were first stuck here. So then, that must mean –" John was interrupted by Sherlock's concluding deductions, "They have a whole army of people if they're willing to use different men for the same task, within similar time frames. But, they don't even bother to cover their faces, which further suggests the fact that they're great in numbers since even if one of their men is caught, they're clearly expendable. That, and they're morons who think we can't tell the difference between faces and hair colour."

He sat back down, this time actually a part of the circle.

Molly spoke up, "But why are they doing this?"

"I don't know. I thought that it would be over with John and I captured, since we're normally the targets, but they brought you two here after us. Their motives remain unclear to me for now." Sherlock once again leaned against the crate behind him and drew his knees to his chest, but kept his eyes open, apparently observing their surroundings.

The warehouse they were in was dimly lit. Windows lined the top of all four walls. He could spot a few men in black here and there, surveying them. Fans (none of them turning) and lights (24/60 on) hung from the ceiling. Empty wooden boxes were scattered throughout the warehouse and mattresses (complete with blankets) were stacked along one wall, but other than that, nothing and no one else but the four friends were present. He sniffed the air – mothballs and dust; so this used to be storage for clothing. In front of him was a garage. He turned his head and peered beyond the crater; there was no garage behind them. There was only one way in and out of the warehouse and it was bolted shut from the outside. Mycroft did a fairly proper job in setting a suitable location.

"John, Lestrade, bring those mattresses. You'll need something to sleep on. We're not getting out any time soon." He glanced at Molly, "One for Ms. Hooper over here, as well."

Molly rose and wrung her hands together, "No, I'll go get it myself. But, thank you."

Lestrade protested, "What about you?"

Sherlock waved the DI's concerns away, "Don't need to sleep. Slept for a few hours the other day after our last case was closed."

"Yeah, well, we'll get you one anyways." John nodded in agreement. The three of them came back dragging a mattress and blanket. Lestrade took Molly's halfway and brought it back for her.

John placed a mattress in front of Sherlock, who didn't even bother to say thank you, while he sat on his own.

Lestrade placed a mattress in front of Molly, who was polite enough to relay her thanks. Both of them took their spot on their respective mattresses.

A few moments of silence passed until Sherlock's phone rang with an incoming text:

Don't draw this out
for too long.
-M

Sherlock smirked and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

"Who was that?" John scooted himself and his mattress closer to Sherlock.

"Mycroft." It wasn't a lie.

"Drunk texting you again?" John grinned.

Sherlock chuckled, genuinely amused. There were times when Mycroft drunk texted both Sherlock and John. The first time it happened, they spent minutes laughing at Mycroft's expense and for the rest of the day, they would start the cackling all over again whenever they even looked at each other.

"Why don't you just ask your brother to get us out of here?" John ventured.

"No, the situation hasn't escalated that high yet. We've yet to see blood!"

John stifled a giggle, "Not funny, Sherlock."

Lestrade jumped in, "What kind of case were you two working on, anyways?"

"You read his blog. You'll find out when we've solved it." He pulled out his phone to check the time, "3:42AM. You might as well get some sleep. We've still got a few hours before the sun comes up. They won't disturb us until then." He eyed the passing men through the windows above them.

"Right…" Lestrade looked around, before resigning to his mattress and slipping under his thin blanket. He turned on his side with his back to the rest of the circle. Molly followed suit, murmuring a quiet, "Good night." Both of them fell asleep in a matter of minutes. Lestrade had been awoken from a deep slumber and falling back into it wasn't a problem. Molly hadn't had any sleep at all, having been kidnapped when the night was still young, and was quite exhausted.

John stayed awake and shared Sherlock's crate for back support. It was the least Sherlock could allow after taking half of John's mattress space. Sherlock's abandoned mattress was pushed into the centre of the circle.

They sat together in comfortable silence and oddly enough, the atmosphere wasn't that much different than at Baker Street, minus Lestrade's snoring and Molly's small figure, completely engulfed by her blanket. They had many, many days where Sherlock wouldn't speak and John wouldn't interrupt his thought process, but quiet didn't always mean awkward.

John tried his best to keep from falling asleep, but Sherlock's warm body against his own and the blanket draped across him was more than he could handle. His head drooped forward against his will countless times, until finally, Sherlock gently forced it to rest against his shoulder. John dozed off almost immediately.

Sherlock successfully picked his phone from his pocket without disturbing his flatmate's rest and fired off a text to Mycroft:

Did you tell Mrs Hudson
where John and I are?
-S

He set the phone on vibrate.

It buzzed a minute later.

Staying at a hotel in Cardiff.
How long are you going to
keep this up?
-M

Until I get enough data.
-S

You can't measure loyalty
and friendship like you measure
your solutions in a Chemistry lab
Sherlock.
-M

A flicker of annoyance ran through him. He was done texting Mycroft for today.

He took turns watching everyone in what he called "The Circle of Average Minds", which obviously excluded himself. They were all so human, so awed and inspired by his brilliant mind. But why? Sherlock, despite hardly ever showing it, appreciated their undying interest and fascination towards him, but why these people decided to stay and believe in his humanity, was beyond him.

John was the one constantly exposed to Sherlock's ridiculous tendencies; playing the violin at ungodly hours, cooking body parts in the microwave, storing body parts and decapitated heads in the refrigerator, nearly killing both of them (and Mrs Hudson) with chemical experiments, the list was endless. Living together wasn't all roses. They had arguments and Sherlock never apologized directly, but only offered a good murder and chase throughout London as compensation. Yet John stayed. Whenever he left the flat, Sherlock could count on the fact he would most definitely return.

Lestrade saw Sherlock during his worst years, the years when he was drowning in narcotics with no visible way out. The DI was surrounded by colleagues who insisted Sherlock was a psychopath, that one day there would be a body and it would be the Consulting Detective who put it there, yet he insisted that the opposite was true: one day, Sherlock would prove to not only be a great man, but a good one, as well

And then there was Molly, who was utterly and madly in love with Sherlock, who in turn understood the concept of love, yet never permitted himself to waste time indulging in it. No matter how harshly he had spoken to her, she too, never left. With one kind word, one simple complement on her hair, all of his sins were wiped away. Sherlock treated her like an idiot, but during that Christmas party when she had finally stuck up for herself, he had seen her anew, with more respect than ever before.

Despite the fact that these three had proven themselves loyal over and over again, Sherlock had his insecurities. And what better way than to solve his insecurities scientifically, like he always had with other problems? Perhaps this experiment was "Not Good" as John would say, but it would be over as soon as he willed it and no one would get hurt.

...Probably.

Ending note: Chapter 2 is also up and I don't know if it's just me, but there's no option to click "Next" for it. So, just go to the top in the URL and change the "1" before the /Experiment_in_Warehouse_7 to "2" and it'll take you right to it! Thanks!