Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in posting this one... I was pretty tied up over the weekend. Here is Chapter 10! If you want the very exciting sneak peak from Chapter 11, then please leave a review! Thanks to all my readers for sticking with me.
Understanding
Chapter 10
John sighed, running a hand though his hair. It had been a particularly trying day at work, and the fact that he was still worried about Sherlock didn't make things any easier. A vague snippet of Sherlock's voice forced its way into his head – Too damn distracting!
It was. It was too damn distracting to be worried all the time about whether or not your best friend was being gunned down by psychos or playing mind games with masterminds. The flat was empty. John remembered how it was when he had first moved in here – Sherlock was almost always home when John arrived. He would say he found it tedious to leave unless he had a real purpose. Without a case, he saw no point in leaving the flat at all.
And now, he was always gone. It was the same case, as far as John knew. The same mysterious, haunting case. There was something wrong – that much John was certain of. He just couldn't figure it out.
He sighed, flopping down on the couch and staring with vague interest at the remote. Did he want to watch telly, or just go straight to bed? He was so tired he could barely see straight – after all the times he had told Sherlock, Sarah, and Mrs. Hudson that he was perfectly alright, he didn't want to admit that he wasn't back to 100%. He could spend a perfectly normal day out and about, and feel completely drained at the end of it.
Before he could decide, footsteps sounded on the stairs. John knew instantly that it was Lestrade from the way that the footfalls seemed to pound on every other step like someone was jumping with all their strength. Lestrade always acted urgent, even when he wasn't. It was with this thought in mind that John tried to keep himself from panicking. It was very possible that nothing was wrong.
But something told John that this was wishful thinking.
"Sherlock! John!" Lestrade's voice certainly sounded urgent. Wonderful.
"What's going on?" John asked, already on his feet as the Detective Inspector entered the room.
"Oh, you're home. Good, you're home," Lestrade said, breathing entirely too heavily for nothing but a quick run up the stairs.
"Yes, I'm home. What's happened?"
"Did Sherlock contact you at all today? Did he stop by?"
"No. What's happened?" John repeated. Something was wrong. Something was very, very, wrong.
"I think he figured out where he was supposed to go… He beat us to it, of course. But then he said he just needed to stop by the flat for a moment. Shit, of course he was lying. He's probably already there. God, that man can be so stupid sometimes. I can't believe it."
"Wait. Slow down. Where's Sherlock?" John asked. His stomach was twisting horribly and his heart was pounding somewhere in the region of his Adam's apple.
"He figured out where Moriarty wanted him to go. At least that's what I'm assuming, although I still have no idea where that might be, and – " Lestrade stopped talking as he caught sight of John's face. "What? John, what is it?"
"Moriarty?" John said, his voice coming out choked. "Please tell me that this case isn't Moriarty."
Lestrade looked confused for one moment, and then his eyebrows flew up in understanding. "He hasn't told you."
John felt his voice rising. The hairs on the back of his neck were on end. "Told me what, exactly? Where's Sherlock?"
Lestrade looked alarmed at the look on John's face. "We don't know. All we have is this." John strode forward impatiently as Lestrade fished around in his pockets for something and produced an evidence bag.
John ripped it out of his hands and tore away the plastic, taking a single sheet of white paper in both of his hands. Four words, written in inconspicuous black ink. "Back to the beginning," John read aloud. "What does that mean?"
"We're not sure. We found it at the site of the fifth body – there were other clues, of course. And each one would lead us to another murder – this Moriarty character is shifty. He doesn't seem to be personally implicated in any of these crimes. It's like he's just waiting in the shadows, playing puppet master. He's like a… a…"
"Consulting criminal," John muttered, hardly listening. His heart was still pounding abnormally hard but his mind seemed to have gone numb. Of course Sherlock did this. Of course he lied and kept John out of it and of course he was probably with Moriarty right now, about to die for no good reason.
And of course it was up to John, again, to save him.
Author's Note: The more people that review, the faster I'll add the next chapter! If you want a sneak peak of Chapter 11, hit the pretty button and leave me a note!