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Hitting the fan

Sherlock walked into his house slowly as Detective Bell and Gregson looked around. He knew his home had been broken into. The fact that none of his possessions or Joan's had been disturbed or taken seemed irrelevant. He glanced down to see the little tortoise he had adopted undisturbed in his vivarium.

"He's gone." Sherlock stated. calmly. Every cell in his being told him Joan was still in the house. He fought to stop himself from running around the house calling her name. Gregson stepped outside and spoke into his cell phone, ordering a forensics team to get to the house in Baker Street. Bell swore as he pulled his gun and watched Sherlock walk up the stairs slowly as to make the least amount of noise possible. The doors to the upstairs bathroom, guest room and both bedrooms remained closed. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves he pushed the bathroom door open.

"Clear." Detective Bell stated.

"Clear." Sherlock confirmed. There was no sign of any struggle in the bathroom. He just hoped the same would be said of the rest of the house. He nodded towards his own room. Bell frowned and kept his gun ready. The next room was just as empty. The only room left to investigate was Joan's. Part of him thought he shouldn't be walking into her personal space but another ny times he had sat in the chair at the end of her bed waiting for her to wake. A glance at Bell told him that the young detective was just as worried as he was.

"Sherlock?"

"She's in here." He tensed as he realised if Joan had heard them there was a very good chance she would have appeared before now. He rested his hand on the door handle and sent up a silent prayer to a God he knew couldn't exist before pushing the door open. Bell burst through the door with his gun at the ready. Gregson was a second behind him.

"What?" Gregson looked at the pieces of the ceramic lamp smashed on the neglected hardwood floor as the bedclothes pulled askew. There was no sign of the young doctor.

"She hit him." Sherlock stated, with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Yeah, well someone smashed the lamp."

"Joan did." Sherlock walked to the open widow and looked out at the street. "I was mistaken. She isn't here."

"Yeah, figured that." Gregson handed him Joan's smashed cell phone. "This was in pieces in the hallway."

"Explains why she didn't answer."

"Doesn't explain where she is now." Gregson stared at the destroyed phone. "Don't think we can even lift any prints off this. I pulled it out the washing up bowl. Do you actually do any washing up? You know. Clean the plates etc?"

"No." Sherlock stated. "And it will tell us where she is. Clever Watson, you clever clever person."

"Someone want to explain to me what he is talking about?" Gregson stated. He had no idea what the younger man was talking about.

"When Joan became my sober coach she asked me to carry a cell phone with me. I didn't wish to do so. She wanted to know why. Stated it would be easier for us to keep in contact. She was somewhat bemused when I told her that once the phone is switched on it can also be utilised as a tracker device. Obviously there are only certain organisations that can do this. One being the police. With a warrant."

"The phone is here. Smashed to pieces." Gregson began to wonder if Sherlock was really loosing his mind.

"Ah yes. The phone is in your hand. Where is the sim card?" He ran out of the room yelling as he went. "Get the warrant Captain. We can find her, she's left us the directions."

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Joan opened her eyes slowly as she tried to take in the dirty, dank room she found herself in. The smell of damp and mould hit her as she looked around.

"Dr Joan Watson M.D." She turned as the man spoke. For a moment there was a surge of satisfaction as she realised the wound on his forehead still needed stitches and had been caused by her bedside lamp.

"Hi." She frowned. "Where am I?"

"Don't worry about that."

"You killed David. You killed him." Joan felt the anger build inside her. Any fear that had been building was pushed aside as she thought about the man that had been left to die in cold blood.

"Yes." The man opposite her nodded. "I gave him the choice. I told him he could give me what I wanted. Now seeing as he didn't I think you can."

"I don't even know what you want."

"Oh I think you do. You and Chen were close. He would have told you were it is."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Joan glared at him. The gun in his hand glinting in the light from the window.

"That is a shame." The man shook his head before lifting the gun. A single shot ran out as the sounds of screams filled the air.

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A/N More soon. Please review.