*disclaimer* - I forgot to put this on the first chapter, but I obviously own nothing, these characters are not mine as if they did i would be a very rich girl. All characters are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's or adaptions of BBC Sherlock.

The first thing Sherlock felt after pulling the trigger was a pair of rough hands pulling him out of the door and away from John and Moriarty. The second thing was a hand being clamped over his mouth as he tried to call John, and the third thing was dread, after realising he knew exactly whose hands were on him. Sherlock was aware of the fact the he was being pulled towards the front of the house, and further from John, but in his panic he had lost track of the layout of the house a little, and wasn't entirely sure how to get back to John.
Sherlock was shoved into a small room the size of an average waiting room and heard the door close behind him, He span around and took in his surroundings. There were a few uncomfortable looking chairs dotted around, and a small coffee table with a couple of the daily newspapers on top. There were a few small pictures in frames on the walls, and gaudy wallpaper that was yellowing and peeling at the corners of the room was covering the walls. Finally, Sherlock's eyes landed on the man stood opposite him
"Seb." Sherlock spat, deducing everything he could that might help him work out how to get John out of this mess.
"Oh you do remember me then?" Seb drawled "Jim said you wouldn't remember, but I knew you wouldn't forget."
Sherlock remembered now why Moriarty has chosen Seb, taken him on as almost a pet. Seb had that same look in his eyes that bordered between madness and sheer brilliance- and Seb had always had a thing for Moriarty, even if he said otherwise. Unfortunately, Sherlock (and most others) felt that Seb leaned more towards being mad, which he frequently proved by carrying out Moriarty's ridiculous schemes without question.
"Now listen, sweetie, I'm going to let you go home, and you're going to stay there. You claim to love John Watson, now is your chance to prove it. Don't contact him and we may let him wander out of here in one piece." Seb finished with a wink, before pulling Sherlock through a door, and down the hall towards the front door. Seb pushed Sherlock out onto the street, "Run along now, Sherly" he sing-songed, closing the door with a wave.

Back at the flat, Sherlock paced back and forth trying to think of a plan, before dejectedly slumping into Johns' chair and curling up. He didn't want to play by Moriarty's rules, but he would be damned if he was going to put John in further danger by contacting him. Sherlock decided to wait for three days before going back to get John, and in the meantime, plan how to get him out of Moriarty's grip and back home with them both collecting as fewer injuries as possible.
It had shaken Sherlock to see Seb after all this time; Seb Moran had been in with Moriarty's crowd at university. Sherlock had never paid much attention to the crowd, generally only being concerned with Moriarty's antics, but Seb had always trailed after Jim and given Sherlock an uneasy feeling. There was nothing particularly pleasing about his appearance and he didn't seem like ''one of the guys'', but it was now clear that Jim had kept him around because of his loyalty. Sherlock had never been particularly fond of Seb, especially after...
Sherlock's trail of thought ended. He couldn't let himself bring all that back up now, not after all this time... things were different now, he had John and friends and a life at Baker Street.

Realising that he had been curled up in John's chair for longer than planned, Sherlock pulled himself to his feet and walked to the kitchen, "John would make tea" he thought to himself. After making tea, Sherlock crawled back onto the sofa miserably and turned the telly back on. Before this whole thing had happened, the pair had been watching some film that John had forced Sherlock into watching, 'The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy'. It wasn't actually a bad film (for a change) but Sherlock wouldn't be caught admitting that. After around ten minutes of watching the pictures but not following the film, Sherlock fell asleep, feeling utterly defeated and worn-out. Feeling tired so regularly was something he'd never experienced before; he'd been changed and made to feel so many more things since knowing with the Doctor, he'd become more... more human.

After two lonely days of waiting, and planning how to get John out of Moriarty's hands (he was going to go in all guns blazing, and rescue John or die trying), Sherlock decided on the third that he would wait no longer - He was unable to call Mycroft and imply that he should help (Sherlock never begged). He got dressed and went back to where Moriarty had staged his twisted game; he was slightly puzzled as to why he'd just been allowed to walk out, because Moriarty would've surely known that Sherlock was familiar with this area.
From the outside, the house looked small, shabby and run-down, however it was deceptively large inside (much like the TARDIS, he mused). Sherlock supposed Moriarty had picked this house to make the inside look more impressive... Another thing that Sherlock could only suppose at was why this location in particular was chosen: It was just around the corner from Lauriston Gardens; an area Sherlock knew well thanks to what John had dubbed 'The Study in Pink' case on his blog. There was no obvious significance to this location, so Sherlock decided to ask the smarmy git next time they were face to face.
Sherlock walked through the gate and up to the front door, trying the door, he found it unlocked. Cautiously he pushed it open and stepped inside, the door swung closed and shut with a small click. There wasn't a single noise coming from inside the house, and no signs of anyone even being there—wait, there were the marks that Sherlock had made on the walls when he was being dragged. Feeling reassured that he was in the right house, Sherlock ran through the house checking every single room, including the room where he had had his sickening reunion with Seb Moran.
The house was empty. Every room was stripped and bare, like nobody had ever been there. Sherlock slid down the wall and stared at the floor dejectedly, he had no idea what had happened, but he knew one thing for sure:

John was gone