~Chapter 2~

"So people are disappearing from around the whole world. Mostly women, and girls, though boys have been found too. Ages between 12 and 35. Snatched up from every corner of the world. Where have they gone?" Sherlock murmured to himself as he paced his home, a gun in his hand. He lifted his sleeve, revealing three nicotine patches plastered on his upper arm. Growling, he whipped around, facing the map of pictures and notes and victims. No pictures of suspect though. None.

Frustrated, he lifted his violin, playing a rough tune of ups and downs. He played for long, his hands dancing quickly along it. Sherlock's eyes skimmed the map, his fingers moving without thought.

"Sherlock? What is going on in here?"

Ms. Hudson, their landlady for years and years, waited in the doorway, leaning forwards.

"Thinking, Ms. Hudson. Now leave me, because I'm trying to solve a case that has been going on for so long. Even my daughters don't know it because it's so disturbing! Now, please! Go!"

Startled, Ms. Hudson scurried away, murmuring under her breath.

Setting down his violin, Sherlock clenched and unclenched his fists, lost in thought, forgetting about the time. Suddenly, his phone rang, and he ignored it, annoyed at each disturbance. It rang again and again and again, and Sherlock finally gave in. Snatching it up, he yelled into the phone.

"What? I'm trying to solve your indestructible case!" There was a deep pause… speaking into the phone, he turned back to the map, eyes scanning it. "Lestrade?" A silence, then:

A wind howled, and a screech tore the air. A gurgling sounded, and then a thump, and Sherlock snarled, knowing that the girl had been killed. Silence… And suddenly came beeps, counting up to 31.

Sherlock froze, the beeping filling his ears. Suddenly the beeping stopped at 31, and a distorted voice spoke.

"Don't you dare come and get her, Sherlock. Don't you dare come get any of them, or that will happen to them all."

The voice, though distorted, send shivers down Sherlock's back. Letting the phone go, Sherlock placed it on the table, leaping up on to the couch and studying the map. There had been 31 disappearances from around the world, and if one was killed…

Stalking over to the phone, he called John, waiting as the dial sounded.

"Sherlock?"

"John, come to the apartment. Now." The seriousness in his voice troubled his partner, so he came after a few minutes, grocery bags in hand.

"What? Don't… tell me… it's… one of your… stupid… calls for… nothing." John was panting, his breath ragged and sharp.

Sherlock held out the phone, the call repeating on speaker. John frowned, yet his eyes widened somehow.

"Jesus." He sweared unconsciously, the grocery bags quickly dropped to the ground. "Who can it be?"

"I don't know John! Who can it be!? The missing people John! He is the person!" Sherlock seemed so annoyed that his partner was so slow to understand.

"He took the girls! 31 disappearances! 1 dead! There's a new one missing John!"

Realization finally dawned to John, his face contouring into alarm.

"Ms. Hudson!" He cried suddenly, racing out the door and onto the staircase. Nobody answered. "Could you come here, please!?" There was silence once more… a disturbing silence.

John suddenly whipped back and faced his partner. "Where's Ms. Hudson?" Alarm seemed to drip from him, and Sherlock waved it off.

"I don't know, out and about probably. John, go tell Lestrade." Sherlock faced the wall, his eyes leaving his partner.

"Aren't you coming?" He called, his frown creasing.

"No." His answer was plain, and John knew he couldn't push it. Instead, he walked up to peck his partners check, calling over is shoulder as he lumbered down the stairs. "Don't forget the girls!"

The comment flew over Sherlock's head, going from one ear through the other.

Gwen stepped out of the school with a smile, her eyes searching for her fathers. Her sister was at a different school, as the two would sneak out at times and help out their pa. He was fine with it, but John would flip when he found out. Sherlock had acted like he was disappointed, but later, he'd high-fived the two with a small smile and a wink.

Her hands clutched her backpack impatiently, waiting for her Pa to come and take her.

But he never came.

The day stretched on, and Gwen raced across the school courtyard, and up a hidden tree. She sat there all day, waiting for her dad to come. All her other classmates had drifted off with parents or friends, leaving behind an agitated Gwen.

Her father might be all about his work, but he'd never leave the girls. Well, mostly. He'd left them in school one day when a case had exploded with a new victim.

The sky was cloudy, but the fluffy light pillows wouldn't rain down on Gwen. They couldn't.

But they did. The sky darkened, and rain pecked Gwen through the leaves, leaving trails of water to slip down her neck or face or exposed arms. It went on for hours. The sky became a deep, dark blue, and a moon rose up. Gwen checked her watch. Of course. It was 9:32.

Shaking her head, she dropped down, wondering what happened to Freya. She probably walked home as well. And with that, she took of running towards her home at 221b Baker Street.

A.N Hi guys! So sorry for the late chapter, but sadly, Writer's block has been in full action lately.

Thanks for reading and please review! :D

-Demi