This BAMF! Prompt is courtesy of YYHfan-KB.

Just in case you don't know, POV stands for point of view.

John Watson's POV

Sherlock wasn't in.

This wasn't a rarity; the genius detective always took off when he wanted to, where he wanted to, all the time. He'd disappear for a whole week, and come back, with explanation what so ever.

But, usually, he'd disappear with a curt, "Don't wait up, John." And if he didn't do that, if John was at work, he'd get a text, saying when, approximately Sherlock would be back.

But this, this was truly worrying. Sherlock had left with no text, and he hadn't spoken about him going anywhere to John. It sounded rather possessive like that, but really, it made him feel better if he knew Sherlock wasn't being arrested for abducting old ladies, even if it was by accident, (long story), or dumping radioactive waste in the nearest laundry, (another long story).

At first, John thought that he was just over reacting, and didn't worry. Much.

But Sherlock had been gone 4 days now. Still no text. John had been to all of Sherlock's favourite restaurants, pubs, libraries, theatres. He'd got so worried that-

-Hell, he'd even phoned Mycroft. Yes people, The Iceman.

And got fobbed off with a casual, "You know my little brother, if he doesn't want to be found, he probably won't be. Don't fret, Doctor Watson, my little brother can take care of himself, I'm sure. He's probably off on a case, or another one of his experiments." Mycroft had hissed the last word as if it was a swear word, and had promptly hung up.

He'd gone to check with Lestrade, but had been told by his secretary that Lestrade hadn't been in for days. He wanted to check with Anderson and Sally as well, (last resort, couldn't stand them) but they hadn't been in as well. It was all rather strange, and very, very worrying.

Resigned, John went to the surgery, hoping that work would keep his mind off Sherlock. Really, if Mycroft said Sherlock was fine, surely the British Government would know what he was talking about?

But John couldn't help but think something was wrong. Lestrade, Sally, Anderson and Sherlock had all disappeared, all at roughly the same time, and all hadn't been seen since.

Maybe these disappearances were connected? John didn't know, but it seemed very likely.

In the end John couldn't stop thinking about it, and was sent home by Sarah because he was 'distracted' and it wouldn't be good for the patients if he accidently gave them the wrong prescriptions.

But when he got back to 221B, he saw something that confirmed his suspicions and made his blood run cold. Stuck to the fridge, was a piece of paper, on it scrawled, 'IF YOU DON'T WANT YOUR PRECIOUS DETECTIVE SHOT THROUGH THE HEAD, ALONG WITH YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS IN BLUE, BRING THE BLUE PRINTS AND THE CODE TO QUEEN'S PARK. WE'LL DIRECT YOU FROM THERE. TELL THE COPS AND YOUR MR HOLMES IS AS GOOD AS DEAD.'

Below it was a blurred photo of 4 people handcuffed? Tied? To the wall? Even though it was blurry, John had no trouble distinguishing Sherlock from the picture.

Oh. A bit not good.

.oO0Oo.

Sherlock Holmes's POV

This was a bit not good.

'This', was being handcuffed together with Anderson, and chained to a chair, with only Lestrade, Donovan and a horde of mad kidnappers for company.

I know, seriously, Anderson?

Starvation, dehydration, being beaten up, sure, I could take that easily.

But being handcuffed to a fool, who, when asked for a country beginning with Q, offers Cuba?

That, is, one, asking for trouble, and two, pure hell.

"Why Anderson?" I say, which is the 54th time I've said it, not that I'm keeping count, merely bored, and just a little disbelieving. Because who has the right mind to handcuff the two people who have been throwing abuse at each other for the last two hours together?

But, really, only Anderson's throwing abuse at me, what I'm saying is the truth.

"Because, Sherlock, our kidnapper is stupid enough to handcuff you two together." Lestrade replies, aspirated, "Now, would you shut up for a while? Don't wake Anderson up, it took us ages to knock him out."

I glare at Lestrade and lean back against the wall.

"John's taking his time." I remark drily. I shouldn't take this long for John to realise I'm gone, surely?

Lestrade looks up, worried, "You don't think they've kidnapped him too, do you?"

"Unlikely. They still need someone to give them the blueprints and computer code."

Lestrade looks a bit lost. Has his brain cells all finally kicked the bucket?

"Wait, Sherlock, what blueprints?" Lestrade looks even more worried.

"Nothing of importance." I dismiss the question nonchalantly.

"Nothing of importance?" Lestrade replied, incredulously. "Sherlock, this got us all kidnapped, for your 'nothing of importance' blueprints!"

"Lestrade, I thought you didn't want to wake Anderson up?" Lestrade glared at me, but stopped talking. I changed the subject. I'm good at doing that.

But I hope John hurries up. I don't want to be chained to Anderson any longer than necessary.

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