Every night I'm gone? John thought.
But that would imply that he's still capable of thoughts? John was so confused. Before Sherlock had left that fatal night he told John that if he ever needed help, Holmes was the one to consult. Sherlock was gone, and John had no idea if he was really dead or alive somewhere.
John didn't sleep that night. He lay awake, thinking. Holmes…. Then it struck him. Sherlock was not the only Holmes, there was Mycroft. John's heart leapt at the possibility of Sherlock being alive, but didn't allow too much hope, after all he hadn't heard from Mycroft, or anyone except Greg for a year.
Unable to calm down, John gave up on sleeping and threw on a jumper. The doctor walked out of his flat, down the street, turned, another street, and kept walking until he was at Mycroft's door. Despite the long walk, John felt alive and awake. The sun was just peeking out over the trees, making John aware of the approximate time. Mycroft must be up by now. John rapped at the door until Mycroft's assistant opened the door.
"How can I help you, sir?"
"I need to speak with Mycroft, now." John urgently replied.
"He's a little busy at the moment but please, come in, I'll send him out when he's available."
John was jumping in his seat in anticipation. No sooner had John begun to worry, that Mycroft came strutting out of his office. His expression blanked when he saw John. Worried? His face was masked again before John had come to a conclusion. "Yes?" Mycroft asked, not rudely.
"Where is he." John stated.
"I don't know what you mean,"
"You know who." John said flatly.
"I thought it pretty obvious he was in a grave as of a year ago." Mycroft responded.
John wouldn't give up. "No, somehow he escaped, I know he did!" To be honest, John didn't know, but he figured this was the only way to find out. If someone knew, it was Mycroft and John wasn't going to leave without the truth.
Mycroft's stern expression softened a little. "Very well, prepare yourself for this may not be so easy to hear."
John was a bit taken aback that Mycroft was warning him about feelings, being the machine-like person he is, except when around Sherlock, but that surprise was quickly thrown out the window and joy filled its place. Sherlock was alive! He was really alive! Johns heart pounded, his fingers fidgeted. Watson cleared his throat and managed an "I'm ready."
Mycroft inhaled and said "Eastern Europe."
When John looked lost, Mycroft proceeded to explain. "My brother has taken an undercover identity in Eastern Europe to dismantle Moriarty's network. Few people were made aware and for your own safety you were left in the dark. I presume by brother went against my advice and notified you somehow anyway."
John looked stricken. Europe? Moriarty? Alive. John shut his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He's all alone. He did this to protect who he cared about. That idiot! That stupid, stupid idiot. This was too much. John, holding back a sob, croaked out "Th… Thanks, I'll be on my way now."
"John?" John stopped, awaiting.
"John, he did it for you, Mrs. Hudson and Greg too, but mainly you. He said… He said when you figure it out, not to go looking for him, it might be too late. You'll be put in danger. Stay in London and have a life, forget about him."
Mycroft gave John a sad smile. John breathed, in and out, and walked out the door.
"I have a chopper waiting on the roof of your flat when you're ready." Mycroft called after John.
John's ears perked up. Sherlock was alive, and John could save him. Mycroft smiled. John hailed a cab and once back to the flat grabbed a bag and started packing. A few pairs of clothes, a flashlight, first aid kit, water. Hm. Not wanting to wait any longer John ran up the stairs, onto the roof and into the chopper.
"Ready Doctor?" The pilot's muffled voice shouted over the sound of the blades chopping the wind.
"Yes," John replied. But was he? Was he ready to put himself in danger? To see Sherlock? Yes. Sherlock was his best friend. He was undergoing who knows what to keep John out of harm's way. John realized he knew nothing of the whereabouts of Sherlock apart from Eastern Europe. As if the pilot could read John's mind, he said over the speakers "Ill drop you off 5 miles away from the hideout. North. Follow the road."
About halfway through the flight, John fell asleep. He dreamed about Sherlock, calling out for Johns help, and John, running towards him but not getting any closer. Sherlock was trapped in chains, desperately calling for John.
"Landing in 10 minutes."
John awoke flabbergasted and afraid. Sherlock. Heart racing, the helicopter descended and deposited John. "Good luck" the pilot said, and for the first time John saw who it was. "Mycroft?" "Save my brother." John gave a subtle nod and started walking down the deserted road, electricity tingling between his hands. The helicopter left John in a cloud of dust, flying out of sight.
Once the dust settled, John got a better look at his surroundings. The terrain was dry dust, parched hills rolling out into the horizon, spotted with stringy dead plants. The sun was just beginning to rise, giving John light and a slight bit of warmth in the cool air.
Alright. John thought to himself. So now I'm completely alone in the middle of nowhere, going to save someone who may or may not be dead in a highly secured den. Great.
John felt his coat pocket and, upon feeling a lump, remembered he had a gun, and instantly felt safer. Being a doctor and serving in the war gave him an advantage. He'd seen injuries and death. He had to cope with it. He knew how to break every bone in someone's body while naming them. He could save someone with injuries, help them, identify problems. But he wasn't made of metal. A bullet could pierce him and nothing he could do would stop it.
John was feeling better as he was reassuring himself he would be okay, come out of this alive with Sherlock, then he could return home. And then what? Will anything be the same between you and Sherlock? Yes. Of course. John had been in trouble and Sherlock saved him, and vice versa, many times before. Is this the same though? John shook his head, aware he just had a conversation with himself. John walked in silence. Not much longer, the doctor spotted the secret organizations hideout, carved in the side of a hill.