His pace was quickening.
It was to be expected, of course, seeing the situation. John Watson, a short blond haired army doctor, was probably going to die that day. Unless some hand pushed him along and said: "Don't let them get you."
Of course, there was no hand, and John wasn't thinking right. So he was caught.
It was a normal day at the crime scene, with everything going smoothly. All deductions were made and there was a fairly good idea of what had happened had been established. Pure luck brought John to this situation. It was unfair how he had to do it.
Sherlock Holmes was the world's only consulting detective. He was the London genius, the stubborn asshole who would help with your case if you weren't too boring to him. He didn't have many friends, if any at all.
Besides one, and that one had to go and get himself lost. It fucked Sherlock up knowing that he wasn't able to leave this situation. That's what Sherlock usually did. Not that he would've left. This friend was special.
Sherlock motherfucking loved this man. It wasn't a platonic love. It was a "you're my best friend but I'd marry you and fuck the shit out of you" love.
Unfortunately, the chances of that were pretty slim, especially if his friend couldn't be found.
John was feeling uncomfortable.
People were discussing how to get rid of him while he was sitting there, tied up. He wanted to shout at them, call for his friend, and just be a fucking boss and escape.
As usual with John's life, however, he had no power.
So he sat there as masked strangers discussed his demise.
Something caught his eye moments later. A lock of grey, flat hair that looked oddly familiar. He brushed the thought off.
"It couldn't be him," John thought. But it was pretty damn blatant. This person was no villain. In fact, it was a person John was glad to see.
Sherlock was told to stay at Baker Street. It was the only direction his friend gave him before he went on his outing to buy something special. What the item was, Sherlock did not know.
But he was determined to follow that simple direction. He would've loved to go find him and hug him and kiss him, but alas, he couldn't.
This fucked Sherlock up even more.
So Sherlock sat there, hating his life and watching the door, waiting for it to open.
What would Sherlock do if his friend never came back? The thought made his heart hurt, drew him nearly to sobs.
Well that's the end of the first chapter! Did you enjoy it? Man, I hope so, I worked hard on it. Expect more tomorrow or the day after! Make sure to drop some reviews if there is something specific you'd like!