Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Mystery/Horror
Rating: Teen (Fiction T)
Chapter: One of four
Word count: 2000
Warnings: Major Character Death, Mild language conform show standard.

Disclaimer: BBC Sherlock is not mine. There would be far more episodes if it was. I just borrow the characters and let them die. Because that's what people DO.
Summary: Life with Sherlock Holmes was an endless source of unexpected twists and turns leading to the most bizarre situations. This was certainly one of them.

Author notes: It's my first time writing horror. It's usually not really my area, but this nasty idea popped in my head and it can't hurt to try. Well, can't hurt me. The characters? That is a whole different story. Be advised, I didn't add the horror tag for nothing. There is no graphic description of violence but the idea is disturbing.

This work contains four chapters and will be updated weekly.

As always I want to thank my wonderful beta readers: Alex, Peggy and Tami. You guys are awesome and I wouldn't be able to produce this level of quality without your critical eye.

Chapter one - Appointment at Baker Street

Slow days weren't uncommon. As a matter of fact, even the most exciting days at the surgery were slow compared to the time John spent with Sherlock Holmes following up on leads and chasing down criminals. Sometimes, quite literally.

His eyes drifted towards the clock. Only 10 minutes had passed since he had last looked. That couldn't be right.

His phone vibrated and John picked it up. With some luck it would be Sherlock, providing him with an excuse to leave early. God, he wanted to leave early. He was disappointed by a text from Mary instead, reminding him to buy milk. Annoyed, he lowered the phone and eyed the clock again. Why couldn't she get the bloody milk herself?

Another vibration alerted him of a new message. Now what? He glanced at the screen to see what else his lying wife needed him for now, but it was Sherlock's name gracing the top of the list.

Meet me at Baker street in an hour -S

A smile spread over John's face. That was more like it.

I'll be right there.

He waited patiently as Sherlock was typing a message.

Use your key, I need to see Mary first.

John frowned. What did he need Mary for?

Get some milk while you're at it.

It didn't take long for Sherlock to reply.

No time, see you in an hour.

John leaned back in his chair. Oh well, it was worth a try. He looked around his office. The surgery would be fine without him, he was about done for the day anyway. Besides, it was rush hour, and the trip to Baker Street could take longer. The one good thing about having a pregnant wife was that nobody questioned him if he left a little early. It was a feature of marriage he had come to appreciate.

John smiled as he got to his feet. Finally, something to look forward to. He closed his laptop and gathered his things. It was a little past four when he said goodbye to his temporary assistant and left the surgery.

*** BBC Sherlock ***

221B Baker Street still felt like home, more so than the little flat he shared with Mary. That was only his official address, the one he filled out on forms and where he received his Christmas cards. It was as fake as his marriage.

He closed the door behind him. He was early. It wasn't entirely unexpected, taking a full hour to get to Baker Street was a bit much, even during rush hour. He figured he would just work on his blog as he waited. It was lagging behind since Sherlock had returned from his extremely short lived exile. Sherlock was burning through cases at an impressive rate now that he had been cleared of all charges concerning Magnussen, or more accurately, since Mycroft had made it all go away. Like a proper big brother, as Sherlock put it.

It felt like he had just sat down when he became aware of the muffled sound of the doorbell coming from the fridge. John quickly got up, but before he could even get out of the living room he heard the familiar footsteps of Mrs. Hudson rushing to the door to answer. A moment later he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs.

Greg appeared in the doorway. "John, I should have known you'd be here."

"I could say the same. Sherlock called you?" John moved towards the kitchen. Greg followed him with his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Texted." The DI's eyes scanned the equipment scattered over the kitchen table. "He's not here yet?"

"Right, texted." John filled the kettle and turned it on. "He went to see Mary earlier, he'll be here any minute now. He asked to meet me here at 5."

"Good, I'm not the only one running late then."

John glanced at his watch. 5:30. That was odd. Sherlock was a lot of things, but late was rarely one of them. The kettle boiled and clicked, interrupting John's train of thoughts.

"Tea?"

"No thanks, I'll be off as soon as possible. I have a thing."

John poured himself a cup of tea, went back to the living room and sunk in his chair. Greg followed suit and pulled up a chair for himself. The two of them hadn't had a proper chat in quite a while, but they carried on as if it was just yesterday. Time passed. 30 minutes soon turned into 45 minutes, and then into an hour. They tried texting Sherlock, but there was no response.

Just as he was about to text Sherlock once again, his phone rang. A strange mixture of disappointment and annoyance washed over him as Mary's name appeared on the screen.

"Sorry, I've got to take this. It's Mary." He apologized to Greg. The DI made an understanding gesture. John answered the phone as he stood up and moved to the kitchen. "Mary."

"Hello John. I was wondering when you're coming home and if you have time to pick up some milk."

"I'm not sure. I left the surgery early to meet Sherlock at Baker Street and I might be home late."

"Well, tell Sherlock not to keep you too long. I really need you to run by the store to get milk."

John frowned. "He's not with you?"

"No, why would he be?"

It made sense. If Sherlock was still with Mary he would have replied to his messages. He usually did. John bit his lip. "You haven't seen him at all today?"

"No. Why?"

"Nothing. I need to go." Before Mary could protest, he ended the call. His fingers flew over the display to find Sherlock's number. His heart pounded in his chest as he listened to the dial tone. "Come on, pick up. Pick up. Pick up!" John muttered to himself as he made his way back to the living room.

Greg got to his feet. "What?"

Voicemail. John lowered the phone, looking down at it in horror. "He's not answering."

"Who? Sherlock?" Greg gave him an uncomprehending look. "Well, that's not unusual, is it?"

John hit the call button again and held the phone to his ear. "He didn't make it to Mary's, either. She said she didn't see him all day." His gaze met Greg's. He could tell the DI wasn't as troubled by the news as he was.

He was redirected to voicemail again. Frustrated, he ended the call.

"Maybe he's just busy…"

"No. If he were busy he would have ignored the call. He hasn't replied to his texts either. There is nothing that keeps Sherlock Holmes occupied for…" He glanced at his watch. "… almost an hour. Something is wrong."

Greg shuffled his feet. "Now, let's not jump to conclusions. You know what he's like, he just got distracted by…"

"By what? A murder?"

"Something like that, yeah." There was an uncomfortable silence. "Look, John. I need to get going. Let me know when he turns up, okay?"

John glimpsed at the phone in his hand. There was definitely something wrong.

"John?" Greg was already in the doorway. "Let me know."

"Yes, yes. Of course."

The smile Greg gave him was a mixture of worry and pity, and did nothing to soothe John's anxiety.

"I'll let myself out."

John nodded and looked at his phone, his thumb lingering over the call button. Maybe the third time would be the charm. Please, God, let him answer.

"You've reached Sherlock Holmes. Leave a message, don't be boring."

John waited for the beep.

"Sherlock, you better have a bloody good reason for ignoring me. Call me when you get this." He hung up and typed another message. Just a voicemail wasn't enough to express his frustration at this point.

Pick up your bloody phone!

He slid back into his chair. There wasn't a lot he could do, except wait.

During the night he tried calling Sherlock over and over again. The voicemails he had left and the text messages he had typed took every tone from threatening bodily harm to pleading for Sherlock to reply.

Eventually he had fallen asleep in his chair.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up to the sound of Mary walking past him. When he cracked open his eyes, he saw her standing by the mantelpiece, picking up the skull. He closed his eyes and groaned. He could hear Mary shift around. He straightened his back and neck. His body was sore all over from sleeping in an awkward position, and protested against the movement. He was too old for this.

"Oh, John. I'm sorry I woke you."

"Mary." John groaned as he opened his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, my husband didn't come home last night, so I went to check on him." She threw him an amused look. "Is that a real skull?" she nudged her head towards the skull on the mantelpiece.

"Christ knows." He pushed himself out of his chair and stretched his arms. "Did Sherlock get home?"

He reached for his phone and checked his messages. Sherlock still hadn't replied. His heart sank.

"Maybe he's in his room."

John turned around and marched through the kitchen to Sherlock's bedroom. He placed a hand on the doorknob and knocked with his other hand.

"Sherlock?"

He waited. There was no reply.

"Sherlock? Are you in there?"

There was still no reply.

"I'm coming in." John announced before he opened the door.

He stepped into the room. The curtains were drawn, and John needed a moment to adjust to the dark. It was messy, like the rest of the flat, with random objects and half-finished experiments lying around. John's eyes rested on the bed. It was unmade and unmistakably empty. Sherlock wasn't here.

John just stood there, taking it all in. He had half expected to find his friend passed out on the bed, in a coma like sleep after staying out all night, blissfully unaware of what he had put his best friend through. John's shoulders dropped and he let out a sigh.

"Not there, is he?" Marry called from the living room.

John pressed his lips together. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He quickly got it out, hoping it was Sherlock, finally answering his calls. Disappointment washed over him when he was greeted by the caller ID. It was Lestrade. Maybe he had news.

"Hello."

"Hey John, it's Greg. Did Sherlock show up yet?"

"No, no. He didn't." John rubbed his face. "I take it he didn't answer your messages, either?"

"Not a single one."

"That's it. Are you at Scotland Yard?"

John closed the bedroom door behind him as he walked back to the living room. Mary was sitting in Sherlock's chair.

"Yeah, I'm at the Yard."

"I'm coming in to file a missing person's report."

Mary tilted her head. John turned away, unwilling to deal with her while he was on the phone.

"I'll see you in a bit then. Bye."

"Yeah, Bye." John lowered his phone.

"I'm going with you." She said before he could say anything.

"Mary…"

"Yoo-hoo!" Mrs. Hudson entered the kitchen, holding a large pan with both hands. She set it down on the stove and rested her arms on the counter. "Oh dear, that was heavier than I thought." She chuckled.

"Mrs. Hudson."

"Is Sherlock back yet? I didn't hear him come in." She moved closer, when she entered the living room she saw Mary. "Oh, hello, Mary."

"When was it you saw him last?"

Mrs. Hudson looked at John. "Oh, it was yesterday around four. He was rather in a hurry, barely said a word when he left. I thought he wouldn't be out long."

"I was supposed to meet him at five. He didn't show up."

"Oh dear, you think something has happened to him?" She folded her arms. Her eyes went from John to Mary and back.

John picked his coat up and put it on. "I don't know, but I'm going to see Lestrade. File a missing person's report."

Mary shifted in Sherlock's chair and struggled to her feet. "I'm coming with you."

"Are you sure…"

"Yes, I'm sure. Sherlock is also my friend. I want to help." She walked past John towards the door. John's gaze followed her as she went. She paused in the doorway. Her hands rested on her pregnant belly. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's find Sherlock."

Author note: Please leave a comment to tell me what you thought of this chapter.