John struggled to control his breathing; his heart was pounding. He looked up at the ceiling, gulped and then slowly let the air out of his lungs. His stomach lurched and he pulled his legs to his chest and rested his head on the scratchy brick wall behind him. His head was throbbing and each pulse reminded him of the beat his running feet had made only moments earlier. He tried to relax, but his muscles were tensed with anticipation. He shut his eyes, but they snapped open a moment later for he feared what may happen if he wasn't ready. He tried to move farther into the alcove, but his back was pressed against the solid wall. Then there were footsteps, and John froze, his breath caught in the back of his throat.
"John?" came a deep familiar voice. "John are you here? Lestrade has them restrained, you can come out." John let out a shaky breath and staggered to his feet.
"Sherlock? How the hell did you find me?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief. He stepped out of the shadows to regard his friend with great relief. Sherlock turned to John, and scanned him quickly and observed that he had sustained no potentially threatening injuries.
"Well, it was quite obvious really," he said dully. "I knew it was Harrison who had taken you because he's the only person I've pissed off recently." John scoffed at this last remark, but Sherlock continued. "Harrison is an idiot. He is known for being violent and for his brutality, but certainly not his intelligence. This eliminated any clever hiding places such as Big Ben, the London Eye, or anywhere public really. I figured he'd be in a warehouse of sorts. It would have to be abandoned, and close to where you were taken because he wouldn't have time to question you otherwise. That narrowed it down to 3 places. I figured he'd take you to the one by the water so that he could dispose of your body more easily." Sherlock ended abruptly, clearly satisfied with his answer. John stared at him, opened his mouth to speak, and then reconsidered. His brow creased in confusion and he opened his mouth again.
"You guessed," he said bluntly. Sherlock's head tilted to the side.
"No, I made a logical conclusion." John laughed nervously.
"You're unbelievable," he said, and Sherlock did not miss the exasperation in his tone.
"I'm sorry," Sherlock added, not really understanding why John was frustrated, but wishing to fix his mistake. Social conventions were not his forte.
"No, it's fine," said John. "It doesn't matter, you still got here in time. Thanks for that." Sherlock smiled a little, and then he frowned.
"Are you alright?" he questioned. John, who had been staring off into space, snapped back to attention and focused on Sherlock.
"What? Oh, um, yeah . . . I'm fine," he stammered, but not before his knees began to give out. Sherlock lunged forward and grabbed his friend. He helped John sit down, and leaned him up against the wall.
"John! John what's wrong? Can you hear me?" he shouted his panic rising.
"I'm good, I'm just tired. Sherlock, I'm fine, would you stop yelling at me!" Sherlock removed his hands from John's shoulder and took a small step back.
"Right, sorry. I just . . . you scared me is all," he muttered.
"It's fine, thanks. I'm exhausted, and the adrenaline's wearing off. Sorry to scare you," John said reassuringly. After a small pause he began again. "So what did he want with me? Harrison that is." John looked up at Sherlock who was now pacing in front of him.
"Oh that. He just likes taking people and bothering me. I beat his most recent game, and he just wanted to get back at me," said Sherlock dismissively.
"But what about him questioning me? You said that was why he took me somewhere nearby." Sherlock stopped to look at John.
"That's what he did wasn't it? Asked you questions and threatened to kill you." John shook his head and grinned.
"Nope. As you said he's not very intelligent. He made the mistake of leaving me untied. I guess he assumed I wouldn't run because he was holding a gun. Large mistake on his part; I doubt he knew what hit him." Sherlock tried his best not to look impressed.
"That was why he was unconscious when we arrived. I concluded it had something to do with you. As to the questioning, I just assumed he would do it. He's always acting like he's part of some cop show. His interrogations are always dreadfully dull." John almost questioned the circumstances of Sherlock's own interrogation by Harrison, but decided against it.
"Well, after running around London all day, being kidnapped, and talking to you, I'd say it's time to head home." Sherlock nodded in agreement, and the two men set off towards the nearest cab, as if they walked away from these things on a normal basis.
If you knew them you'd know that they do.