NOTE: For those of you who have read the sequence of stories starting with Moving, this is an alternate ending to the story THE RUNAWAY PACT, where before John can be found, Mary gets abducted by a killer while with Sherlock on a case. This is a preSeason3 Mary. The stories that led up to this are Runaway 1 and Runaway 2. Sorry if this causes anyone confusion. Thanks for reading.

Sherlock crawled across the tiles. He traced the footprint on the floor with the tip of his finger and then looked up at the aisle. It had been cleared of people, but their remains were still there, their muddy prints, the scuff marks left behind from their frightened exit. Those crowded steps made as they rushed from the room remained, obscuring the path of the one woman that he sought to find. The woman who he had lived in the same flat with for the better part of a month. The woman who was married to his best friend.

This line of investigation was unlikely to yield a useful result, so he rose to his feet and turned to the policeman at his side. Lestrade was on the phone arguing furiously with someone apparently about the decision of the yard to close down one of London's busiest department stores on Christmas eve.

"Lestrade, could he have escaped the building?"

"There's no way. We had men on all of the exits before we entered, and we have a helicopter scanning the roof. All of the customers were visually scanned before being released from the building."

"Could they have got past your men?"

"With a hostage? No, Sherlock. My men know their jobs. They were provided with a picture of the manager and Mary. Also, someone who knew the manager was there at each of the exits. The store should be cleared by now. I've called in men to do a visual sweep of all of the rooms."

"This man is deceptive, and he has killed two people. He won't be easy to find."

"They are walking in pairs, sweeping each floor. We'll find her. Calm down, Sherlock. We'll find her."

Sherlock clasped his gloved hands into fists. Mary. a madman had taken Mary. He had reached for a child but she had pushed his hand away and got a concussion for her heroism. Yes, it was heroism to trade her life for that of a child. What was it about Watsons that led them to be heroic? Sherlock would rather the murderer had taken the child. Mary's capture introduced so many unwanted emotions.

Anxiety - For what John will think when he finds out. For what he will feel. And if she dies, how would he take her death? They've barely been married six months. Isn't today their anniversary?

Shock - That someone who he was arguing with just this morning was snatched from his side. He should have been able to prevent it. John would certainly think that he should have, and he would blame Sherlock.

Shame - For having thought for a moment that it would be easier for him if she was dead. Even he knew that that thought was more than a little not good. He could never admit to having felt it, but he knew, he knew! that Mary would guess that he felt that way. If they got her back alive, no when they got her back, would she resent him for that stray thought? Would she tell John?

Before he had met John, he had not had such anxieties. He was a man alone. Now he had to face the fact that he had forged a bond, a dependence on having John in his life, and perhaps he had even formed one with Mary.

For the last few days and nights, she had almost never left his side. He had thought of those times as filled with conflict, but to an outside observer, they were full of harmony. Mary Watson shared John's ability to anticipate his needs, passing him a cup of tea before he could ask for it, and making sure to ask questions so that his thoughts continued to flow. They had cooperated in the search for John, Mary taking the lead when his failed, working together to find John. She had cared for him when he was ill, getting his medicine, and making his bed even as she chastised him for trying to steal her husband. They complimented each other so well that Mrs Hudson had suspected that they were having an affair!

Ridiculous! Mrs Hudson had never been the most observant landlady to Sherlock's frequent relief, but there was a grain of truth to this affair. If Sherlock was completely honest with his emotions, then he had to admit that he liked Mrs Watson. She didn't have most of the annoying traits that John's other girlfriends had had. She never objected to John's coming over, day or night. She had supported him when he wanted to move in to the old flat to care for Sherlock when he was injured. And she allowed Sherlock to stay in his flat even though John admitted that they had been involved in a sexual relationship. Sherlock knew very few women who would have agreed to such an arrangement. That is, very few woman who still appeared to have the strength and self-esteem of Mary Watson. She had never backed down from Sherlock Holmes in a fight, and she had done her best to draw back John's sexual interest to great effect if the moans and screams that he had heard emanating from their bedroom was any sign. She had been a formidable opponent, and he had appreciated the challenge that she posed, but that was just a game. This kidnapping was no game. It was life and death.

Candice Singer was dead. Strangled with the cords of a set of Christmas lights. Sherlock wondered if they were plugged in when he did it. Did the lights glow and flicker while she gasped out her last breaths. Maybe after this was over, he could examine the body and see if there were burn marks from the lights. But that was inconsequential. The problem now was finding Mary before the manager lost hope and decided to kill her and himself. Sherlock guessed the odds of such a happening to be greater than fifty percent. Depression was highest at Christmas time, and having just killed his professed love, this man was very likely to be depressed as soon as the adrenaline wore off.

He shook his fists, "Sherlock, THINK!"

Sherlock pulled out his phone and broke into the fire inspection database to pull up the plans of this building. It had two floors above ground, and one beneath. The lower levels were a maze of store rooms. There was a loading dock in the basement. Deliveries came by truck. Half a dozen policemen should be guarding that exit by now.

Most of the store was one continuous floor. Escalators went to the second floor which overhung the first creating a high ceiling in the center with space for the enormous Christmas tree that dominated the glass fronted lobby. There was a row of check out stands, departments in little clumps around the floor. Of course there were departments, this was a department store! And a set of doors that led to the back hall. The staff elevator was across from the hall where the first murder had been committed, the murder of man dressed as Father Christmas. A kindly man, not as old as he looked, who had charmed lovely Candice and thus sewn the seeds of jealousy that had led to this ghastly murder and abduction.

Where were they?

He needed clues.

In the absence of inspiration, Sherlock decided to go back to the scene of the crime. The dressing room where the first murder occurred. Hopefully there he would get a bolt of inspiration, because if he didn't find Mary soon, Sherlock was certain that all that he would be able to give John for Christmas would be her dead body.