A/N: Hello all. I am sorry that this took a little while. Like I said before, my life is so busy right now, I don't even have time to breath... or blink... let alone write. But remember, I will never ever abandon this story because I love it! LOL

Thank you for the support and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please leave a review and tell me what you think about it.

If any of you are also Merlin fans, I encourage you to go check out my story Wavering Destiny. XD Thank you so much for being so awesome!

Special thanks to Hatakefire for once again helping me patch up a large plot hole. XD

Warning: Dark themes, violence

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock...

Chapter 7

"Sherlock, you are fine. An ambulance is on it's way... John is missing," Lestrade said gently.

John's worst fear had been confirmed. Sherlock was gone. Moriarty had taken him.

John pushed Lestrade's hand away, climbing unsteadily to his feet and leaning on the desk for support. "We have to go and find him!" he said, his voice rising in panic.

"We will," Lestrade said, trying his best to sound calm and in control. "But not right now. You need to get to a hospital."

"You don't understand!" John snapped. "Moriarty didn't take John... He took Sherlock!"

Lestrade shook his head. "Sherlock, I think you need to sit down," he told John. whom he thought was Sherlock. He tried to lead the man over to an office chair, but John pushed him aside.

"Lestrade," he said. "I need you to keep an open mind. I need you to forget everything you think you know and I need you to listen. My name is John Watson. Sherlock and I switched bodies."

Lestrade opened his mouth, but John interrupted him, speaking quickly. "Think about it Lestrade. Think back to everything that has happened this week... think about how strange we have both been acting..."

Lestrade complied with the man, closing his eyes as he thought back to the previous crime scenes, remembering how quiet the consulting detective had been, not at all his usual, egoistic self. Or, John, who had been oddly loud, sometimes even rude, making slight, snide remarks that he would .

"You're not kidding," Lestrade said, opening his eyes and studying the face before him. The man still looked like Sherlock, his brown hair in disarray and his light eyes a bit wild with panic.

"No..." John answered, releasing his breath and relaxing his tensed muscles a bit.

"Sherlock, I swear if this is a joke..."

"Not Sherlock... John," John said.

Lestrade nodded, his hands running through his gray hair. "I don't know what to say... I... I'm not sure I believe you."

"I don't quite believe it myself," John responded.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sherlock jolted back to reality when an ice cold bucket of water was dumped on his head. He spluttered for air as the water poured over his face, making him shiver. Once the water cleared from his eyes, he looked around himself, noting the dark, windowless room he was in, a figure standing in the shadows.

He tried to stand up, but winced as ropes dug into his wrists. He looked down, his vision blurring as he saw the chair the ropes tied him to.

"Glad of you to join me," a singsong voice echoed.

Sherlock quickly looked back to the man standing in the corner. Moriarty...

"Not the kindest way to wake someone up," Sherlock croaked.

Moriarty let out a peal of laughter, stepping forwards. Sherlock could just make out his face in the dim lighting.

"Aren't you going to ask me why you are here? No, it's obvious isn't it," Moriarty said, stepping behind the chair and out of Sherlock's sight. "Poor, misunderstood John Watson. Do you think Sherlock will come for you? Do you think he will find you?"

Moriarty continued to speak, but Sherlock couldn't hear him as he realized what was going on, as he remembered that he was still in John's body.

"Sherlock will find me," Sherlock said.

Moriarty looked down at the man with contempt. "So much faith in someone you barely even know," he whispered, leaning down so close that Sherlock could feel his hot breath tickling his ear. "I could tell you so many naughty things about him, couldn't I?"

Sherlock snorted but then stopped, holding his breath as he felt Moriarty's eyes on the back of his head, studying him, scrutinizing him.

"John Watson... John Watson..." Moriarty said. "What am I going to do while we wait for Sherlock to show up, hmmm?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but remained silent, his breath catching in his throat as Moriarty stepped into view again, his hand clasped around a small silver dagger that seemed to pull Sherlock's eyes toward it.

"Would you like to play a little game while we wait?" Moriarty asked, stepping forwards. He pressed the cold blade up to Sherlock's face, trailing it down his face. A small trickle of blood dripped down his cheek as the knife sliced his face.

Moriarty raised his eyebrows, his mouth opening in a little 'O' of surprise. "Not even going to beg me to let you go? Or try to reassure me that Sherlock will come? Seems a little strange. Are you feeling okay, John? You don't need a doctor, I suppose?" Moriarty chuckled at his own joke, pulling the knife away.

"This is no fun if you don't speak," Moriarty said, walking around Sherlock once more, pacing like a cat waiting to strike.

"There is nothing to say," Sherlock growled back, and Moriarty paused, studying the man sitting in the chair before him, his eyes cold.

"Interesting..." Moriarty said. "There is something different about you today, Johnny boy. I just cant put my finger on it..."

Sherlock stared back at Moriarty, clenching his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The consulting criminal put his knife back into his pocket, moving closer to the chair, closer to Sherlock.

The silence was broken by Moriarty's sharp laugh, a wide grin spreading over his face. "Oh... Oh... this could prove useful indeed, Johnny boy. Or should I say... Sherlock?"

TBC