Silence.

The ice-cold sense of reality crept into John Watson's body. What was he going to do? With Sherlock gone, (dead or alive?) he had no idea where to start- Sherlock had always been the one who decided what to do, solved the crimes, caught the criminal, got them home in one piece. What was he going to do now?

Chapter 1

'So Sherlock, whats our next case?' asked John Watson through a mouthful of undercooked pot noodles.

'I have a feeling that this is what DI Lestrade is about to tell us.' Replied Sherlock Holmes, jumping out of his hard wooden chair and bounding to the door and opening it just as a startled but almost unsurprised Lestrade was about to knock.

'Good evening Sherlock, John, I was wondering if we could have your help on a particularly, lets say confusing case.'

' Ah, confusing, something different for a change. How can I help you?' despite answering sarcastically, Sherlock was interested, the kicks he got from his job were second to nothing else, he practically lived and breathed from the danger, the sense of excitement of guessing where the criminal would strike next, and the strange feeling of expecting the unexpected.

'Well-'

SMASH.

'Duck!' Yelled Sherlock, but Lestrade wasn't fast enough, something large, a brick, had hurled itself into the small appartment through one of the large, victorian style windows and caught Lestrade on the side of his head. Lestrade slumped to the floor, his head bleeding, crimson blood staining the creaky wooden floorboards.

'Quick, John call an ambulance now!'Sherlock shouted at John. 'Someone wanted to shut him up but who... or maybe it wasn't him they wanted to shut up... maybe they were scared I knew who they were...'

'It'll be here in a minute... Sherlock?' John waved a hand in front of his friend's face to get his attention.

'Sherlock...'

'I know who it is.'

'Know who who is, Sherlock?'

'It's Moriatry.'

'Moriar-?'

John was cut off by his mobile ringing, and within a second Sherlock had answered it eagerly, yet cautiously.

'Oi, thats my-' again, John was cut off, this time by Sherlock motioning for him to be quiet.

'Hello?'

'Sherlock, my dear, shall we call you, for want of a better word, friend. I hear you've already found out who I am.'

'How did you-?'

'Know?' asked the speaker mockingly. 'That stupid Detective Inspector who can't solve any of his own cases, I bugged him. He really is thick you know. But this is neither here nor there. You haven't caught me yet, and time is running out. I have seven bombers; one placed in each of seven major cities in Britain: Cardiff, Edinburgh, Dublin, Manchester, Glasgow and two at opposite ends of London. Each has a single aim: to cause as much panic in the next seven days that is possible. One bomb will go off each day, and at the end of this all, I will make sure that everyone knows who you are, and that it is your fault. You understand? Lets make it nice and easy for you. The first bomb will go off in London in ten hours. Your seven days start now. Goodbye Sherlock... happy hunting'

The connection was cut, leaving the flat in silence, but the road outside was a bustle of people and sirens and voices; two paramedics shoved their way into the room and dragged Lestrade onto a stretcher before pulling him like a sack of potatoes down the rickety staircase. Sherlock closed the scratched mobile and dropped it on the floor, and jumped up grinning.

' Ah, the seven bombs, seven days thing. They always use this one. Getting a bit boring now though, I'm sure Moriarty of all people could think of something better'

'Sherlock-'

'Seriously, how easy is this? Always the same cities, and He expects this to be 'hard' and 'frightening'?'

'Sherlock, wha-?'

'Come on John, lets go.'

'Where? And whats going on?' John called after Sherlock as he raced through the door, bounding out of sight. His questions fell to deaf ears. Why did he bother? With the sigh of a long-suffering man, he ran to the door and got to the top of the stairs in time to see Sherlock disappear out into the cold air of the dark, cloudy night.

A few seconds later, Sherlock was joined outside by John, and they both slid onto the backseat of a cab that Sherlock had hailed.

'So, where are we going? And whats going on?' John was finally able to ask.

'Hospital. I'll fill you in on the way there.'