This is a 221b fic, basically there are 221 words and the last word begins with the letter b. Enjoy
Sherlock's phone beeped, 'Probably John', he thought, 'he better have bought milk.'
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the message.
'Guess who I have! ;) - M'
His mind whirred trying to think about who it could be.
'It could be Mycroft...' he thought, 'No, he's in France, Moriarty wouldn't have bothered going that far to get him. Who then?' he pondered this while making his way back to the flat, he'd decided he'd walk. After all, with his knowledge of London it'd be faster.
'Wait, the flat, John. Shit! He's got John!'
He picked up his phone and texted Lestrade.
'Find John now! Moriarty's got him - SH'
He barely had to wait five minutes before a police car picked him up and they were following the signal from John's phone. It was in some warehouse in South London.
They pulled up ten minutes later, preparing to storm in and save the army doctor. They broke the lock and ran in, ready to be confronted with the full force of Moriarty's mystery snipers. However, what they ran in on, was quite a surprise.
John was stood in front of Moriarty who was tied to a chair, John pointing a gun at his head.
Lestrade stared 'John is one hell of a BAMF!"