Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Special thanks to:

Empress of Verace, Zora Arian, MisplacedHyperQuill, ShareBearTheDeathBear, magicstrikes and videogamelover221

Most of you guessed Moriarty which I assumed. Of course, I didn't expect anyone to get it I just wanted to hear what you guys thought. (and I thought it would be kind of fun) Although Empress of Verace, I really loved your idea!

Anyway, enough of my babbling. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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John Watson stumbled into 221B Baker Street with bags full of shopping hanging off his limbs. "Sherlock, where the hell did you take off to?" John said rather pointedly to his friend.

Sherlock did not acknowledge the remark. He stared fixedly at something in front of him. "Sherlock, for God's sake, are those the damn cigarettes?" John came up behind him and stopped. "What?" Was all he could manage. He noticed the torn open envelope placed carefully on top of the table along with the picture of a toothy grin given by a happy child. Moments of silence passed between the two before Sherlock spoke.

"I don't know." It came out of his mouth quickly but the frustration in his voice was more than evident. John glanced from the picture to Sherlock who sat hunched over on the table, resting his hands in front of his mouth. With a quick movement he reached for his phone.

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Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade was working late that night. Damn these cases. He thought to himself. He threw back the last cold sips of coffee that remained in his mug. God, I'm going to need another. He glanced at the portrait on the corner of his desk, his wife and him looked so happy on their wedding day. Greg tried to remember the last time they smiled like that but nothing surfaced. His phone lit up and caught his attention, "Hello?" He answered.

"Have you had any missing persons reports?" The deep voice on the other line asked.

"Why Sherlock, got a hankering?" Lestrade said sarcastically before continuing. "But as a matter of fact I do. How did you –"

"I'll explain later."

The line cut out.

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"Wait, so let me get this right." Greg looked at the picture in his hands with pure shock. "You got this on your doorstep tonight the same day this kid goes missing."

"It would seem so." Sherlock replied annoyed with Lestrade's inability to understand.

"And you assumed he went missing?"

Sherlock only rolled his eyes and didn't reply. He was here to get information, He wanted to get moving. More than anything he needed the thrill of the chase. Watson was the first to pick up on Sherlock's impatience. "Why don't we go over the evidence, then?"

Flicking open a file with his fingers Lestrade read off. "Henry Williams, went missing on the first of December, 2012 at approximately 3:40 this afternoon. He was reported to have gone missing under the eyes of around 30 people."

"Where was he?" Sherlock asked trying to dig into the information at a faster pace than Lestrade was giving it out.

"He was at one of those Santa displays in the mall, you know, where the children say what they want for Christmas."

"Yes."

"All those present have been brought in for questioning but none of them have admitted to seeing anything. His parents didn't even see it. They're distraught, as you can imagine."

"So a child goes missing in the middle of the day under not only the watchful eyes of not only his parents but under the eyes of many. No one sees, no one knows anything. The perfect abduction."

"Sherlock." John intervened. It always bothered him when Sherlock seemed excited about how a criminal executed his wrongful acts. It made him seem guilty and John didn't want his best friend to be suspected.

"I'll need to talk to the parents of course." Sherlock concluded.

"I don't know if that's the best idea." Lestrade answered.

A confused look spread across Sherlock's face, "Sorry?"

"They've lost their child. I'm not about to subject them to a heartless, apathetic sociopath."

"But it'll help find their son."

"Sherlock, no."

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The sun arose the next morning and John awoke to find a particularly busy Sherlock already connecting the information as he had already acquired. A complicated web of ribbon and string formed across the wall. "I talked to his parents. Got information." Sherlock said absentmindedly, the words seemed more directed to the room than to the army doctor behind him.

"God, what did you do?"

"Nothing. I am remarkably good at pretending to not be a heartless, apathetic sociopath, as Lestrade likes to put it." He now turned to face his friend. "Get changed. We're going to the mall."

"Going to the shopping mall after you left me in the store. I don't think so." John said opening the fridge looking for a bit of breakfast.

"But John, how would you blog about if you aren't there?" Sherlock responded putting on the biggest smile he could manage, which was really no more than a small grin. John looked at his friend. He knew that Sherlock could manage perfectly well without him there. In fact Sherlock would probably do better without him slowing down his mind. Finally something more human arose out of the icy façade, the need of companionship. Sherlock wanted company and that John could never turn down.

"Fine, I'll get changed and then we can go."

As John Watson got dressed the thought occurred to him that Sherlock's human side was merely a well-played maneuver to convince him to come.

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"Do you see him?" Sherlock asked John under his breath.

"Sorry, who?"

"Santa Claus, John."

"Wait?" John started confused, "You think that the Santa did it, of all people, jolly old St. Nick is stealing kids from their parents."

"John think." Sherlock spat out from his impatience and frustration. "Everyone in this area at the time have no idea what happened. The last place he was seen was on the lap of that man. Why do I have to keep reminding you that once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

"Oh God." John replied his eyes flickered up and down the line of children that stretched for hours. His heart sank; any one of them could be at risk. Helplessly he looked at his friend whose features were like stone, impossible to read.

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"Sherlock what the hell are you doing?" John yelled across the flat when he smelled the cigarette.

"My mind is too cluttered, I need to clear it." Sherlock said calmly taking another long drag of the cigarette.

"Not like that you aren't" John stalked over and pulled it from his hands.

"I need it, John."

"Oh no you don't. What have you found out? Clear your mind out on me."

Sherlock locked eyes with John for a split second before beginning to talk. "I need to do some things. Don't wait up."

"Where are you going?" John asked after Sherlock who had already put on his coat and started climbing down the stairs taking them two at a time.

"Out." The detective said as he straightened his scarf and walked out the door. A light snow had begun to fall outside onto the streetlamp lit street. "Taxi!" He called out raising an arm out into the road.

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She was exactly where he knew she'd be tonight. Working late as usual, she worked much too hard. Of course she was the only one there with enough brains to get it done. "Molly." He said quietly behind her.

A mousy squeak escaped her and she jumped around to see the source of the voice. When she saw who stood there she flushed a deep shade of pink. "Oh-oh Sherlock… you scared me again. Wha-What, well um, is there something you need?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an invitation and handed it to her. "You're to be my date."

"Wha-what?" Of all the times Molly had created this moment in her head a thousand times over. Not once did she ever think it would actually happen. She tried to contain her happiness and the urge to squeal in front of him but remaining calm was making her feel a little light-headed.

"I need to investigate a potential child abductor, he'll be attending the same gala. I needed a date to make me seem less obvious."

Molly's heart dropped a bit but she took it, a fake date with Sherlock was certainly better than no date with Sherlock. "I-I don't have anything to wear though." She gave him a small smile before averting her gaze again.

"Oh don't worry about that." He turned to look at the desk by the door, a dress bag laid across the top of it. "I've gotten you one. I'll pick you up at 6:00 o'clock next week."

He turned around and swept out of the room stopping just as he began opening the door. "Oh, and Molly." He said turning to look at her. For once she met his gaze and did not break it, although she felt as if she were going to faint under his watchful eyes.

"Yes?" She finally managed in a timid voice.

"Do try to not work yourself to death we have a date next week."

She could have sworn that smallest glimpse of a smile met his lips but she couldn't be sure. The detective left her alone in the morgue with a quickly beating heart and a broad smile.

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A/N: Sherlock's on to it, isn't he? Hope you guys liked it and be sure to leave a review! Happy first of December all!