John awoke, his vision swimming as he opened his eyes.

The back of his head throbbed achingly, but the real pain was centered along his brow.

A kick, his addled brain supplies.

Right. He had been heading towards Sherlock when someone had attacked him.

Fuck!

Taking a deep breath, John cataloged his body for injuries.

His arms and wrists ached, but he was mostly sure that was from being tied up. Besides the blow to his head and the kick he had received, it didn't feel as if he had suffered any other damage.

John briefly struggled with the binds around his wrists.

No good. They weren't coming off any time soon.

John took a moment to take in his surroundings.

It looked like a he was on an old roof. There was a large gaping hole to his right and John could make out what looked to be an examination table, rusted and weather worn among scattered debris.

The sound of footsteps crunching had John whipping his head around, but that had been a mistake and he had to fight to keep the contents of his stomach from coming up as a strong wave of nausea over took him.

"You're awake then." A deep voice said from near by.

John blinked rapidly, trying to steady his rolling vision.

Slowly he was able to make out his kidnappers form.

He was average height and build. He had short black hair and dark brown eyes.

There was nothing remarkable about him. He looked like any average adult male.

The man made his way over to where John was sitting and crouched in front of him.

Up close John could see hate brimming in his kidnapper's eyes.

"I have to say, I was expecting more of a fight from you Dr. Watson." The man sneered. "You are retired military after all, though not any good apparently."

"Why don't you un-tie me and I'll show you how good I am?" John said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I don't need to see you in action to know you're lacking." The man said mockingly. "No. You'll stay right here until he gets here. Then I'll let him watch me punish you and after I am satisfied you've suffered enough, I'll kill you. Or better yet, maybe we'll do it together."

"By 'we' I assume you're referring to Sherlock?" John scoffed. "Well I have some news for you. When he does get here, it will be to rescue me and send your sorry arse to prison."

"Wrong!" The man shouted as he gripped John's chin violently. "You are nothing to him! I was the one who put him back together again! I was the one to save him!"

John struggled in the mans grip causing him to tighten his hold.

John yelped in pain.

"Why does he keep you?" The man asked, repulsion evident in his voice. "Can't he see how worthless you are? So worthless and yet you dirty him with your filth."

The man released John's face roughly, standing.

"I was content to let him keep you around, but just being near him wasn't enough for you was it?" The man asked, trembling slightly in anger. "You tricked him into your bed! You took what wasn't yours! What isn't anyone's!" The man roared.

"Don't you see? He's to perfect for us to touch." He said, his demeanor changing, looking slightly un-focused and awed. A moment later and he set his piercing eyes back on John angrily. "If anyone has a right to him it's me!"

John pulled on his bindings again to no avail.

This guy was a nutter.

Maybe John could reason with him though. The man was clearly under the wrong impression here.

"I don't know why you think what you do, but Sherlock and I are not together. We've never-"

"Liar!" The man screamed, lifting his booted foot and kicking John roughly in the ribs.

Intense pain shot through him and John couldn't help the howl he let out from the blow.

"I'm-" John tried, wheezing. "I'm not. I've never-"

Pain exploded again and again as the man kicked him repeatedly.

John slumped forward coughing raggedly, and he tasted blood.

Damn. Possible internal injuries. On top of that, he was pretty sure the man had cracked a couple of his ribs.

The man himself stood with his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Look at this! You've made me punish you before he gets here to see!" The man yells.

John knew he needed to calm the man down. He couldn't afford to many more blows.

Breathing harshly, John looks up towards the man.

"You-you're right." He breaths out. "I shouldn't have lied."

The man looks shocked for a moment before crouching back down in front of him.

"Good. You've decided to tell the truth." The man said regarding him with something a kin to sympathy.

"You fell in love with him. It's alright. Anyone would." The man said soothingly. "I don't blame you for that part. The temptation to touch…...to be touched by him." He said, his eyes getting a far away look again.

"But you shouldn't have given in to the temptation and now you have to be punished."

John flinched slightly as the mans hand came up to touch his face.

"No. Shhhh. I won't hurt you anymore just yet." He whispered, cupping John's face. "Sherlock has to see it. He'll be so pleased with me for getting rid of you. But for now, I'll let you confess your sins." The man said softly. "I can't forgive you, but maybe God will."

/

Sherlock reached the upstairs bathroom window once again.

He had already finished investigating the home of Maurine Willis nearly an hour ago. He had then made a few quick stops only to realize that he ha dropped his phone.

He had retraced his steps all the way back here.

The phone must be inside.

Climbing through carefully, Sherlock noticed the phone straight away laying on the floor behind the door.

He made quick work of it, grabbing the phone and climbing back out of the window.

Once he had successfully acquired a cab, he looked at his phone.

Three missed texts from John and six missed calls from Lestrade.

He dialed the D.I.s number quickly.

"Sherlock? Oh thank Christ! Where have you been? We've been trying to find you for a couple of hours!" Lestrade's voice yelled into the phone.

"I was doing a little reconnaissance. Now what is so important that you are proceeding to burst my ear drums through the phone?" Sherlock complained.

"Sherlock, John's gone. He went missing just over two hours ago." Lestrade said worryingly.

"What do you mean he's gone? Didn't you have officer's standing guard? Is everyone on your force incompetent?" Sherlock fumed.

"Now wait just a minute, Sherlock. My guys were there. John tricked them and took off." Lestrade gruffed out.

"We need to use the GPS in his phone to track him." Sherlock said strained.

"We already did." Lestrade answered defeated. "Found it a couple blocks away from your flat. The corner of Chiswell and Whitecross" Lestrade said pausing a moment.

"Sherlock….there was blood. Not enough to think the worst, but we believe that he was probably abducted by the killer."

Sherlock took a moment to think.

Chiswell and Whitecross.

The CCTV had surveillance in that area, if he was not mistaken.

"Have your men do a city wide search. I'll try to get the footage from any camera in the area." Sherlock said, already pulling out his phone as he walked away.

His brother answered on the second ring.

"Sherlock, how unexpected." Mycroft said in greeting.

"Mycroft, I need footage from any cameras you have between Chiswell and Whitecross from two and a half hours ago until now." Sherlock demanded quickly.

"What's all this fuss about, Sherlock? Perhaps a case you can't solve?" Mycroft said with all his fake cheerfulness intact.

"John has been abducted! I don't have time for games, Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted angrily. "I have to find him!"

Mycroft let out a long sigh.

"I'll have the footage sent to you immediately. Perhaps, I could offer some assistance? I could have a team put together in moments."

"Yes. That's- yes." Sherlock answered, distracted by his thoughts.

The killer won't waste much time. If they don't find John soon, he'll-

"Sherlock, you must remain passive. Sentiment...attachments will only slow down your thought process." Mycroft said sternly.

Sherlock felt his anger rise.

"I am not being clouded by sentiment! I am on a case! So why you be a decent older brother for once and just get me the footage that I need without the commentary!" And with that he hung up.

Damn Mycroft and his meddling!

Now was not the time to tease him for having made an actual friend.

Couldn't Mycroft see there was no time?

Sherlock let out a ragged breath.

He had to get back to the flat. He needed that footage.

/

It had been a half hour and Sherlock had still not received the footage. Lestrade had nothing to report either.

When he had gotten back to the flat he had went back over all of the files twice.

He had even combed through his mind palace, but Maurine held no significance.

If it had at one time, Sherlock had deleted it.

Just as he was about to go crazy from the wait his phone rang.

"Mycroft! Have you got the footage?" Sherlock asked quickly.

"I acquired it, yes. I've got Anthea en route to give you a copy. Face recognition software identified Dr. Watson's attacker as Taylor Dennis." Mycroft answered dully.

"Taylor Dennis…." Sherlock thought aloud. The name sounded...familiar?

"It appears that he used to work in a certain rehab center with which you are familiar before a fire destroyed a good deal of the building." Mycroft supplied.

"The rehab facility….yes." Sherlock said, his memory began to stir.

"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed into the phone. "I know where he has John!"

Mycroft pulled the phone away from his ear slightly before speaking.

"I'll have my men meet you. Where should I send them?" Mycroft asked.

"Maurine Avenue!" Sherlock shouted before leaping out the door.

Sherlock remembered now.

The rehab facility he had spent months getting sober in.

The overly friendly nurse, Taylor Dennis.

The night that Taylor had professed feelings of love for Sherlock.

The spark of dangerous fury he had seen in the mans eyes when he had rejected him.

He had to get to John fast.