Lost and Found

I lost her trail on a Friday night
She was gone before I got home
She'd been getting restless
In that big house all alone

Sherlock sank into the plastic chair yet again. None of the doctors or nurses bothered him as he sat there, a wholly defeated look on his features. In truth they couldn't see him, he had drawn the screens around the bed. Only when those walls were up did he allow his to come down.

"I lost him, John." he said. His voice quiet so as not to be over heard. The man in the bed slept on. "I lost his trail. It was probably false but it was the best I had and now I lost it. It was a warehouse, does that mean anything to you? Completely deserted. It was all dingy, reminded me of the kind of places Mycroft would take me when I was a junkie." he broke of gazing at John.

"I just met a friend of yours."
"A friend?"
"An enemy."
"Oh. Which one?"
"Your arch enemy, according to him. Do people have arch enemies?" That had been back in the days when Mycroft had been his arch enemy and John hadn't believed they existed.

"Did he take you to a warehouse John? My brother, when he tried to buy you off?" Silence. Sherlock sighed. He wondered if John could hear him. "Well that's the link. The trail wasn't false then." Sherlock stood up. "Moriarty's got bored and he thinks I'm bored too. He thinks I'm playing because I want to. I don't want to play John, I'm in this for revenge." With that Sherlock exited, his white coat flapping, quickly thinking where Moriarty would have gone to next.

I've been up and down these city streets
For three nights in a row
And lord it's hard to find that girl
When she gets the urge to go

Sherlock wondered London restlessly. He had to find Moriarty and when he did he was going to kill him. It was a promise he had made to himself. He had his homeless network on the look out for anything but Moriarty wouldn't be sleeping rough. Sherlock knew that is John saw him like this he would go crazy. He hadn't ate or slept in three days. But that was all irrelevant he needed his mind to find Moriarty. Moriarty was a master criminal, a consulting criminal. His greatest foe. He ought to be jumping for joy. Running around London, excited by the chase but now he just wanted it to end. He knew he shouldn't have smashed the phone. That had been an incredibly stupid thing to do. Now he had no clues coming from Moriarty so it was even harder to find him.

It's kinda like a lost and found
In a border town
Askin' bout a diamond ring

John didn't wake for very long during the day. It was a couple of minutes, the longest so far had been 12 and 43 seconds, but each time he would ask about Sherlock. He'd been waking up for two weeks now and the first time he'd just been able to give his name and his date of birth but he couldn't work out where he was. After that he had been filled in very slowly on what had happened by Lestrade and Mycroft but he couldn't remember what had happened. He couldn't remember anything from Sherlock yelling at the telly after that he had a mind blank. Of course he'd been told. He'd gone out to see Sarah, Sherlock had organised a midnight rendezvous with Moriarty at the pool where Carl Powers died, John had been kidnapped and strapped in semtex. Then they'd gone to the pool and Moriarty and Sherlock had talked. No one was quite sure what had happened after that, Lestrade and Mycroft had got shifty, and said that Sherlock had blown up the bomb and that he'd thrown himself over Sherlock to protect him, or something like that. Anyway Sherlock had barely been injured. John was glad of this.

If there was one thing he was put out about, though he didn't show it. Was that Sherlock had never visited him, though Doctor Jetlly said he had been here when he should have been in bed. That sounded like Sherlock. Though John knew that hospitals were boring would it really have killed him to have come and visited him once?

They just look at you
Like you've lost your mind
Say they haven't seen a thing
But I know she's been here lately
I can still smell her perfume
And she gets crazy on a full moon

The worst thing was definitely that John could have sworn that he heard Sherlock talking to him. Most of the time he talked about Moriarty. He talked about how he was tracking him. He told him how he was going for revenge. He sounded human. But no one ever saw him. No one had seen him, not a glimpse on Mycroft's security cameras. So now John was treated with sympathetic looks from everyone, they were all so sure that he was suffering from brain damage but he was sure he wasn't and he decided he was going to prove it, he just had to figure out how.

And I know she'll be coming back
Her car is waiting right outside
But, I don't want to think about
Who's taking her for a ride
And her unpredictability
Is what I love about her best

Sherlock arrived at the flat where John had briefly stopped at to collect his gun before continuing on to Baker Street. Sherlock reasoned that this was the most logical place for him to go next if he was tracing John's journey on their first ever case. He stepped onto the pavement and paid the cabbie, forcefully reminded of Jefferson Hope. Going into the flat Sherlock found it empty, clearly the MoD weren't using it for anyone at the moment. Glancing out the window he saw a car pull out and drive away. Was Moriarty in there? Black, un licensed number plate. High probability; yes. Sherlock ran back out onto the street and was dismayed to find himself in the part of London were cabs did not frequent the roads often. Then his eyes fell on the motor bike. Keys in the ignition. Number plate beginning in J and ending in M. Jim Moriarty. Sherlock didn't have any time to worry that there wasn't a puzzle this time. There was no puzzle, it was simply Moriarty playing with him, making him do what he wanted. It was his unpredictability, the sheer breadth of his crime that had held Sherlock in awe, had entertained him so. Now it was this scale, his ability to reach out and do anything he wanted without being touched that made Sherlock more determined than ever to put an end to the man. Then maybe the guilt inside him for enjoying it all would go away. Then maybe the niggling guilt that came every time he thought about John would vanish, the guilt that he had once thought so much more of Moriarty than John. He hadn't wanted to kill Moriarty at one point, he'd wanted to play, right up until it had been John. He had, in some ways, liked Moriarty and that scared him.

Lord I've got to find her quick
Before she does something I regret

Sherlock sped through London on a motorbike. He'd never ridden one before but it wasn't hard for him. He was chasing Moriarty's black car through the streets. He had to get there. Had to end it quickly before Moriarty did something terrible. Before Moriarty got another shot at John.

It's kinda like a lost and found
In a border town
Askin' bout a diamond ring

"John, how are you?" It was Lestrade, or Greg as he now called him. John sighed, he was tired, he knew he wouldn't be awake for very long.

"Tired." Lestrade nodded. "How about you, Greg?"
"I'm okay. Look about Sherlock. He won't be visiting anytime soon. No one has a clue where he is, see."
"Not even Mycroft?"
"Especially not Mycroft." John digested the news, his insides turning uncomfortably, this wasn't good. "We think he's out seeking Moriarty though so we've got our ears to the ground but." Greg Lestrade shrugged. John nodded and kept the impassive mask up but inside he could feel the panic twisting and turning his insides. Sherlock was hunting Moriarty, alone?

"You let him go?"
"No he sort of vanished." Lestrade paused. "One day." John sighed. He could never get a straight answer from anyone. Everyone always paused, or broke off when it came to some point. What had Sherlock done? He honestly didn't think he'd mind to much.

"Lestrade what did he do?"
"What?"
"Sherlock." Lestrade sighed.
"You need to take this up with Mycroft. I can't say anything more. I'm sorry, I'd tell you but Mycroft would probably skin me alive, no idea why, it's not his choice but." Lestrade shrugged.

They just look at you
Like you've lost your mind
Say they haven't seen a thing
But I know she's been here lately
I can still smell her perfume
And she gets crazy on a full moon

Later that day he saw Mycroft. He was aware that Mycroft had security guarding him but they were all unresponsive and dull when he woke up. It was a little surprising to find Mycroft sitting next to him but John didn't react. He just blinked blearily and took some water.

"You wanted to see me." said Mycroft, after a little while.
"Yes." said John.
"This is about my brother." John raised an eyebrow.
"What else would I want to talk to you about?" Mycroft twirled his umbrella and waited for John to continue. "Where is Sherlock?"
"I have no idea."
"How can you? You control all the security cameras."
"Yes and as we both know Sherlock is a master at hiding in plain sight."
"So he's just running around London chasing Moriarty unchecked?"
"Yes."
"Oh god he's going to get himself killed."
"Yes I have to agree with that." John looked at Mycroft in surprise and horror.
"Don't you care or are you a sociopath too?"
"Well I wouldn't say that but I do believe that Sherlock will take Moriarty with him and that should balance the scales nicely. Beside he thinks that grief is a waste of time." John gazed at Mycroft in disbelief. No wait why was he shocked? This was Mycroft. He was a Holmes. It was quite normal.

"I presume there was something more that you wanted."
"Yes." said John. "What did Sherlock do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Look whenever I ask why Sherlock never visited or you talk about when he went you get all shifty." Mycroft sighed and spun his umbrella again.
"Well I suppose I should tell you. I had hoped Sherlock would but since we don't think he'll make it back from his little meeting with Moriarty I guess I should." John gazed at him expectantly. Mycroft thought for a moment before talking.

"When it happened and Sherlock got better and was able to visit you he was." Mycroft searched for the word. "Different. He felt guilty. He blamed himself for everything. Things were touch and go with you then. We were unsure whether you would live. Sherlock, as you know, has never dealt with feelings properly before. He felt bad about it. In the end I believe it all became too much for him. You being the way you were and the feelings, he just shut down."
"Shut down?"
"Don't worry, he just wiped it all from his mind."
"What?"
"Yes, we thought you'd react like that. Anyway he didn't piece things together until he got stabbed and ended up in this hospital. Then he put the pieces together and came up here. It was the day you first woke up. He doesn't remember anything of it, it doesn't come back his memories. He didn't say anything, just sat until he collapsed, massive blood loss."

"Idiot."
"Mmm, my thoughts exactly."
"After that he waited till he was better and then set off on this chase."
"Mycroft am I going crazy?"
"What?"
"When I hear him." Mycroft stood up.
"He's not at the hospital but I don't believe you're going crazy. I think you may be just dreaming."
"What if I told you that the last place that both Moriarty and Sherlock were both at was the warehouse where you offered me money for information on Sherlock." Mycroft stared down at him before shaking his head.

"I really think you should get some rest." He walked off leaving John with a burning feeling of annoyance. Why couldn't anyone believe that he was hearing Sherlock. He leant back, knowing that soon he would succumb to sleep and hoping that Sherlock wouldn't do anything too crazy, but knowing he was trying to catch Moriarty meant he definitely would.

She's out there somewhere
Burnin up the night

Sherlock knew where he was going now. It was Ronan-Kerr Further Education College, the climax of their first case together. Where John had first saved Sherlock's life and also where he had first heard of Moriarty. Moriarty was out there in that building, not the car, far too exposed. It seemed to him that Moriarty was far more aware of Sherlock than he had thought. Then again it always had seemed that way. Moriarty knew that Sherlock wanted this meeting to be their last. The question is would it be? Would Moriarty effectively burn Sherlock as he wanted or would they meet their ends at a mutual cause.

Somehow I've got to run her down
I'm running out of time

He got off the bike and went into the building he went into. He dashed up the stairs and ran towards the room he had played mind games in with Jefferson Hope. He opened the door and there, standing by the window that had obviously been replaced since he'd been there last, was Jim Moriarty. He had the same suit, the same calm demeanour. A smile encroached his features when he saw Sherlock, it was creepy, unreal.

"Hello Sherlock." Sherlock considered just whipping out his gun and shooting him through the head however he did want to get out of here alive, preferably.
"Moriarty."
"Pleasure to see you again."
"Same here." Sherlock was determined to keep his voice even and his emotions masked.
"Oh I don't think that's true at all." Sherlock knew that there were snipers in the room opposite. An insult to John.
"Quite."
"It's quite sad we've reached this point already." Sherlock needed a plan, quickly.

It's kinda like a lost and found
In a border town
Askin' bout a diamond ring
They just look at you
Like you've lost your mind
Say they haven't seen a thing
But I know she's been here lately
I can still smell her perfume
And she gets crazy on a full moon

Sherlock could see one option and one option only. It was crazy and stupid and would probably get him killed. However it seemed like a very good way of getting Moriarty killed. He wasn't afraid of dying. He wasn't afraid of leaving anything behind. Except he would never speak to John again. He could not believe the last conversation he had had with his friend was

"I'm glad nobody saw that."
"What?"
"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool people might talk."
"People do little else." Not exactly a great goodbye, of course Sherlock had spoken to John but John had always been unresponsive, asleep, it wasn't the same. Sherlock looked straight at Moriarty and wondered whether the genius had figured out what he was going to do. Moriarty met his gaze levelly, giving nothing away. Now? Sherlock questioned the rationality of what he was about to do. Mentally he made a list of pros and cons inside his head. Pro: Moriarty would likely die or sustain seriously debilitating injuries thus disabling the greatest criminal master mind of the 21st century. Con: Sherlock could sustain injuries that were not fatal ie brain damage, if he lost his brain he was nothing. Pro: John would be avenged. Con: He would become so wanted in the criminal underworld that he would most likely need to disappear. Conclusion: The Pro's outweighed the Cons.

Moriarty had to say that he was disappointed. Very disappointed. He hadn't wanted to kill off Sherlock so soon into their acquaintance but it was very clear that he was not friendly towards him and he no longer regarded their puzzles as fun. It seemed that when he had proved that Sherlock had had a heart he'd taken it a step too far. Sherlock was a shadow of the man he wanted to spar with intellectually. He guessed his mistake, though he didn't admit to making them, was involving John. With hindsight he wouldn't have done it. He would have kept John well out of the picture. Well as far out of the picture as he possibly could be. But he was soo bored and it had been soo perfect. The look on Sherlock's face! It nearly reduced him to tears of laughter. He could pinpoint the fraction of a second in which he believes that John Watson, boring, dull, uninteresting, John Watson was criminal master mind Moriarty. There was so much emotion in the eyes. It was so funny and so perfect because he wasn't bored anymore, he was entertained. Heavens it had been like a hyped up soap that he'd orchestrated. Then there had been the revealing of the bomb and the shock and comprehension on his face. Well that had been pretty perfect too. Then there was the horror that it was his fault, the final pip for his one true friend.

Except the whole incident had changed him. There were times when he saw the old Sherlock, the only person that stopped him being bored. The only one who could play his games. The threat with his brother had been empty. Mycroft was boring. The epitome of boring. He was clever but oh so dull. He'd just get his MI5 agents to track him down and where was the fun in that. However most of the time he saw a new man. The man that cared about John. Then had come the break down. That had been entertaining, very entertaining. Moriarty wasn't regretting his involvement with Sherlock at all. Watching him slowly retract within himself and delete all knowledge of John's injuries had been as entertaining to watch as organising the deaths of a family of five and blowing up a tower block. Then he'd come back, the old Sherlock. But Moriarty was a busy man he ran an international crime operation. He hadn't had the time to organise any games but then that had got dull so he figured he'd have some fun with John, considering Sherlock didn't know much about him. The fact Sherlock had landed himself in the same hospital as John was too perfect for the start of their new games, except that Sherlock had smashed the phone against the wall and Moriarty wasn't going to waste money on another one. So instead when Sherlock came looking for him he started leaving trails around. The pattern lead to place Sherlock had first discovered about him and had been his first case with John. It was perfect, a fitting place for him to die seeing as it was all a revenge mission for Johnny, touching but very unimpressive. Ah well there were always other people.

Moriarty didn't quite know what happened. One moment him and Sherlock had been having a staring contest whilst both lost in their own thoughts. The next Sherlock was tearing across the room towards him. He worked out his plan and he smirked as his back impacted the window, shattering the glass. He barely noticed that he was falling, he barely registered that he was going to die, Sherlock was going to use him as a human cushion. All he could think was

'That was clever but I was always cleverer.'

It's kinda like a lost and found
In a border town
Askin' bout a diamond ring

Sherlock struggled to his feet. He knew he had broken bones. He had just fallen, however many feet, his brain was fuzzy. He stumbled off down the alley aware of the fact that Moriarty's men were coming. He could have asked for Mycroft but he had somewhere he needed to go first.
"Taxi." he gasped.
"You alright, son?" the cabbie peered good naturedly at him. Sherlock was aware that it was only the dark that was hiding the injuries.
"Yes, I need you to take me to Harley Street." Sherlock collapsed into the back of the taxi. He then pulled out his phone and anonymously tipped off the police about a disturbance at the Ronan-Kerr College.

"We're here." Sherlock sat up, aware of the fatigue that was gripping him, the pain everywhere. The adrenaline was wearing off. He paid the cabbie who was still looking at him suspiciously. He walked through the front doors and snagged a coat, knowing it was harder to blend in at the moment. However there was no one observing him. He said that they needed to do an extra check up.

"Hey John. I did it. I got rid of Moriarty, I pushed him out of a window. I doubt I'll go to jail. He had snipers pointing at me, again. He's was a bit repetitive now I think about it. Shame, I never got to tell him that. Look the problem is, is that all of Moriarty's men are out to get. I have to disappear. I'm going to 'die'. I have to. When I get out of here I'll be in touch with Mycroft he'll help me. But John I won't see you in a long time. Maybe never again. I can't risk putting you in anymore danger. I'm sorry. I'll miss you John, you have been a welcome companion and my best and only friend. I know you and I are vastly different people and that I have often called you idiot and scoffed at your ideas and opinions but you have been a key component of my life in so many ways. I hope you can't hear this because if you can you'll never let me forget." Sherlock stood sending his brother a text asking him to meet him in half an hour at Baker Street. "Goodbye John."

They just look at you
Like you've lost your mind
Say they haven't seen a thing
But I know she's been here lately
I can still smell her perfume
And she gets crazy on a full moon

When John awoke the next day he felt that something was wrong. He couldn't explain it, he just felt it. His suspicions were confirmed when Lestrade came into his room. Greg's face was drawn and haggard, he clearly hadn't slept in hours. There was also a grave sadness about him that made John's insides turn over. He had the air about him that he often had when informing relatives that their loved ones had died.

"John."
"Greg, are you alright?" For a moment John thought that Lestrade would nod and pass it off with a fine but instead he shook his head and sunk into one of the chairs next to John's bed.
"John I'm so sorry." John frowned.
"What's happened?"
"It's Sherlock he's dead." There was a terrible silence. A long expanse of emptiness in which words failed John. Sherlock, dead. He swallowed and looked away from Greg, unwilling to let the DI see his burning eyes.

"And Moriarty?" John's voice was constricted, he didn't want to talk but he had to know.
"Dead." John nodded his head. Good.
"Where?" Lestrade sighed.
"They fell out of the window at Ronan-Kerr Further Education College, early last night." The significance of that statement sunk in on him. He knew it had probably been wasted on Lestrade. He knew it was there that Sherlock had first discovered Moriarty. Also, though Lestrade was never to know, it was where he had first saved Sherlock's life. It was the beginning of their strong friendship.
"Thank you." Lestrade nodded. His pale face betraying how much he actually cared for Sherlock. He looked down, concerned, at John. He had seen what almost loosing John had done to Sherlock, what would loosing Sherlock do to John?

John was lost in his own thought. There was something plaguing him. Something from his sleep. Sherlock! He'd heard him again! Last night, but he'd died last night. John frowned how could he? Besides Mycroft and the rest were adamant that Sherlock had never entered his room. Except, what had Mycroft said

"Sherlock is a master at hiding in plain sight." Sherlock was sneaking into his rooms as a doctor! He was sure of it but if he'd been here last night then it meant he couldn't have died.

"He's not dead." Lestrade turned back to him.
"What?"
"Sherlock came to see my last night. I can't remember all of what he said but I remember him saying that I was his best and only friend and that I'd been a good companion and he said other stuff but I just can't remember." Lestrade looked down on him with a pitying expression.
"I see."
"No you don't! I've been telling you all this time that Sherlock's been coming into my room and visiting me and you said it was impossible but it's not! Remember Sherlock was always going on about how he could hide in plain sight and fool everyone! But don't you see if he was here then he can't be dead!" Lestrade just smiled a sad tint in his eyes.
"I know this is hard to believe, Sherlock has always seemed invincible but he is mortal."
"Why don't you believe me?"
"I'm sorry." Lestrade left and John thumped his pillows angrily, uncaringly letting the tears slid down his face. He hadn't lost Sherlock, he couldn't have not after he'd just found his way back to life.

A/N: So this is the sequel to According to John and there will be a final installment in this little re-write I've ended up doing of the 'The Final Problem'. I probably will be setting that one to 'Need You Now' by Lady Antebellum. Thank you to 'stacey harris' who reviewed According to John and reccomended this song, 'Lost and Found' by Brooks and Dunn. Yeah please review.
Thanks for reading,
Sopphires.