Yet another translation. This story was written atfer "The sign of three", but BEFORE "His last vow", so I was writing not knowing what was going to happen in third episode (the original story in Polish was published before the air date of "His last vow"). This is going to be two part story, because I need to check some things in the translation o the other part.

I hope you'll enjoy

Ariana

You always count

It took a few dances and a short break for a drink before John looked around and realized what was wrong.

"Where is Sherlock?" he asked, frowning. "Mary, have you seen him?"

"I think I saw him taking his coat some time ago," replied Janine instead of Mary. "Maybe he just went to catch some air."

"Damn it," cursed the doctor, violently leaving his unfinished drink.

"What is it?"

"Sherlock never just goes to 'catch some air' without a reason," he explained. "Where would he go? He was doing so well today."

"Maybe he's somewhere here?" tried Mary. "I don't know, went to talk with Greg or something..."

"I doubt it," grimaced John. "It's more probable he just came to a conclusion that he fulfilled his duties for today and decided it was better to leave before he ruined something. You did see how he was panicking."

Of course, Mary saw that as clearly as John. They both knew that Sherlock was more nervous about the wedding than they were. He had many reasons, and John guessed most, if not all of them. Sherlock, though he was more human and open to people around him, was still Sherlock, and the mere thought that something could go wrong at John's wedding was making him sick. As did the wedding itself. Though the detective got along with Mary and he got used to the idea of having her around along with John Watson, he was scared anyway.

And right now he just left the wedding.

"Where would he go?" Janine was visibly displeased. "He just told me he likes dancing, so why would he leave?"

"I don't like it." John took his phone and dialed Sherlock's number, but all he got was his voice mail. "Sherlock, you utter idiot, answer!" he hissed helplessly, but Sherlock couldn't hear him and therefore didn't care.

"What's wrong?" Greg joined the group by the table. "Where's Sherlock?"

"That's what's wrong," replied Mary. "He just vanished. Took his coat and left."

"Shit." The inspector reacted just like John did. And just like John, he removed his phone from his pocket.

"He didn't reply," said John, but Greg tried calling anyway. With no success.

"Then maybe he will text back," he muttered, typing a quick message. "John, Mary, go back to dancing. And don't worry, I will find that bastard," he added quietly.

"This is my wedding and my friend who promised to be here and vanished, so excuse me, but I am worried," snapped John.

Greg's mobile vibrated and everyone leaned over to see a text.

'Busy', that was all the message said. John and Greg exchanged glances; they both thought about one thing. This could be a danger night.

"Bloody hell, tonight?" asked Greg in disbelief. He dialed Sherlock's number again. "Oh, come on... It's pointless, he's not answering," he said unnecessarily and he typed an answer.

Come back, you're worrying us.

Greg waited a moment, and when he didn't get a reply, he texted again.

'Where are you?'

This time Sherlock replied at once.

Not important. SH

"I will find him," said Lestrade again. "John, I'm going to get him and I'm bringing him back in here, even if I have to drag him."

John looked like he wanted to go with him, but he gave up. Everyone was right; it was his own wedding, he couldn't leave.

"Greg, even if he's..." he started, but Lestrade didn't let him finish.

"I will bring him anyway," he promised. "Go back to dancing."

Lestrade took his phone, and once he was outside, he typed another message.

I'm coming for you. I'm alone now, so tell me where you are or I will use every possible way to find you, you know I can.

Greg didn't fancy long messages, but since Sherlock bothered to read them and reply... This time he replied too.

You know where to find me. SH

The inspector got to the street and caught the first nearby taxi.

"221 Baker Street," he snapped at the cabbie. "Police, hurry up!"

"Just an intoxicated wedding guest," snorted the driver. The next thing he saw was Greg's license right under his nose.

"I was privately on the wedding, right now I'm at work," hissed Lestrade. "221 Baker Street, now!"

Fortunately the cabbie believed him and drove without asking further questions.

Before they got there, Greg called John and promised again he would bring Sherlock back. H sincerely hoped that the detective didn't lie to him. And that he was presentable enough to go to the wedding.

The light was on at the first floor, so there was a chance that Sherlock was at home. Greg ran upstairs, as the doors were open. He typed another message to John, ready to send it.

Got him.

Sherlock was sitting in his armchair and ostentatiously playing with a syringe. He was wearing only a shirt, his coat and jacked laying on the sofa. His rolled sleeve just told Greg that he came too late.

"How much?" he asked, resigned. "And what?"

"Not much," replied the detective without a hint of guilt. "Far too little, to be honest."

"Definitely not," snarled Lestrade and he violently took the syringe from Sherlock's shaking hands. "Where's the rest of it?"

"I don't have more." Sherlock entwined his hands to prevent them from shaking.

"Yeah, like I'm going to believe you," snorted Greg. He took Sherlock's jacked from the sofa and handed it to him. "I will make a drug's bust tomorrow, right now just take it and come on."

"What do you want from me, Lestrade?" Sherlock rose from his armchair and stormed past Greg. His fingers, free again, twitched nervously. "I've run out of abilities to cope with social interactions for today. Just go back and have fun and leave me..."

"... alone, so you can drug yourself in peace?" finished Greg roughly. "Not in this lifetime. Just put it on and come, everyone's waiting for you."

It seemed Greg didn't say anything special, but Sherlock literally froze. He stopped in the entrance to the kitchen so suddenly he almost lost his balance.

"Do you really..."

"Do I really want you to come back with me and have fun on the wedding?" finished Greg. "Yes, I do, because you gave us a fright. And Janine seems to think that you promised to dance with her." The last one wasn't exactly a truth, but Greg decided he could play a little.

"I don't think it's a good idea... Greg," said Sherlock, stepping back towards his bedroom. "I'm..."

"Just a bit intoxicated," added the inspector, but then he realized what Sherlock had said. "So you do remember my name!"

"From time to time," admitted Sherlock, not meeting his gaze. Greg couldn't help the feeling that Holmes was a bit dumped in the face. And certainly lost. He really must have left the wedding convinced that he was no longer needed.

"Let's go." The inspector rushed him. The last thing he needed now was Sherlock falling apart, because his watery eyes made him look like he was suspiciously close to that.

The detective took his jacket with s blank face and put it on. He was in his coat, ready to go, when he asked uncertainly.

"Can you... ymm... not tell John...?"

"I won't tell him today," promised Lestrade, guessing what Sherlock wanted from him. "We can just assume for tonight that you're a bit intoxicated. But don't think you'll get away with that," he added sharply.

"Ugh." Sherlock just winced, either because of mentioning alcohol or a promise of a row he was to get later. He just put his mobile into his pocket and followed Lestrade.