"Make it stop," Lestrade moaned, hiding his head under the pillow.

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asked groggily, Lestrade's movements waking him up.

"Your phone; it's vibrating." Sherlock frowned at him, surprised that he could hear that considering his phone was in his coat which had been abandoned in the sitting room. The consulting detective sighed as the vampire pushed his head further under the pillow and got out of the bed. He made his way to his coat and pulled it out, actually considering ignoring the call. On seeing John's name on the screen, he answered.

"What's up, John? If it's a case I'm afraid I will have to decline; something else has-"

"WHERE ARE YOU!"

Sherlock grimaced at the bellow and replied "I'm at Lestrade's. Why? What's wrong?"

"Mary's gone!"

"WHAT!" Sherlock shouted.

"I had an early shift at the hospital but when I got back our door was wide open and the place is trashed. Mary's phone is still here and it doesn't look like anything's missing. I tried calling you but when you didn't pick up I went to Baker Street. You weren't there and I was really worried that you'd been taken too."

"Calm down, John, I'm fine. I've been with Lestrade all night. Where are you now?"

"I'm back home. I haven't touched anything but Sherlock…where is she?"

"I'll be right there. Don't move!" Sherlock ordered and ended the call. He threw his coat on and spun around to find Lestrade dressed and resting against the door frame.

"John-"

"I heard," he said. "We'll take my car."

"Thank you," Sherlock said, taking a deep breath as he followed the inspector out of the flat. He had to concentrate if he wanted to find Mary.

John's eyebrows rose in surprise at seeing Lestrade as well but he didn't say anything, too worried about his wife to ask if Sherlock had gotten the answers he wanted. The consulting detective walked around the rooms a few times and the others could see him getting aggravated.

"Sherlock?" John asked quietly. Sherlock looked across at his friend but quickly broke eye contact. He hated to tell his best friend that he had no idea who took her. As usual though, John read him perfectly.

"It's okay Sherlock, you did your best. I guess Lestrade and the police will just have to cover this one." His voice was steady and he looked composed but Sherlock knew better; he was freaking out but trying not to let it show.

"It doesn't make sense though!" Sherlock complained. "Why can't I work this out? I can tell that she opened the door and that they, a man, forced themselves in. But the rest doesn't make sense. I'm positive, from the marks on the wall, that our kidnapper is 5'6, yet the impact on the wardrobe is obviously from a fist and suggests far more strength than is possible for a man that size." Lestrade's head shot up at this and he walked over to the wardrobe. Sherlock and John both watched as he ran a finger over the impression before placing it in his mouth. John turned to Sherlock in confusion but his friend just shrugged and continued watching the inspector. John looked back at him in time to see disgust mar Lestrade's features.

"What is it?" the doctor asked desperately. He didn't care how he got the answers he needed, he just wanted Mary back safe and sound.

"I'm sorry," Lestrade whispered, looking up at them and they were both shocked by the pain in his eyes.

"What is it?" Sherlock repeated John's question and the older man turned away from them.

"I told you there was more you had to know."

"What more is there?" Sherlock asked, vexed. Lestrade sighed and John decided to just interrupt.

"Look," he said, "You two can have your lovers tiff later. Just tell me where Mary is, Greg."

"Moriarty has her."

His words were met with silence before John asked "How could you possibly know that?"

Lestrade opened his mouth to answer but then closed it again. He hadn't wanted this secret to come out this way but now it seemed he had no choice.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I wanted to tell you, but…Mycroft…I couldn't endanger you."

"You told me everything else. Why not this?" Lestrade flinched at the emptiness of his voice but forced himself to face the other occupants of the room. John looked confused yet Lestrade could also sense his anguish. Sherlock, though, had gone blank. It made his heart ache to realise that his desire to protect the man just may have pushed him further away again.

"I was going to but…" Lestrade couldn't finish that sentence. It hurt too much to remember what he may never get again.

"So Moriarty is definitely back? Any Mycroft told you but not us?" John asked. He couldn't understand what was going on; too many things didn't add up.

"Sherlock will explain everything John," Lestrade said confidently and walked back to the front door.

"And where are you going?" Sherlock asked. His voice came out cold but inside he was in turmoil. He was having trouble processing everything that had just happened.

"I'm going to fix this. When you've told John everything, go to Mycroft. He'll explain the rest."

"You're not going alone. I'm going to get my wife back," John said adamantly but Lestrade shook his head at him.

"I'm sorry, John, but it's just too dangerous. I have to do this alone." And with that said, he swept from the room. John ran to the door to follow him but the inspector was nowhere to be seen.

"Sherlock," he said, looking back at his frozen friend, "What's going on?"

"Let me get this straight, Greg is a 300 something old vampire who works with Mycroft to protect London. He found out that Moriarty got turned into a vampire so when he left for Paris for a while we went with him so that we'd be safe. And now Moriarty has kidnapped my wife and only Lestrade can find him and get her back. That's basically what you're saying?"

"Yes," Mycroft replied looking across at his younger brother who was curled up in his seat. He had come to Baker Street the minute Sherlock had called and told him what had happened. He had cursed Gregory Lestrade in his head for leaving him to deal with this but he understood why the vampire had; he was the only one who could stop Moriarty now.

"If it comforts you, Sherlock, he is very good at what he does."

Sherlock looked up at this and Mycroft could see the pain in his eyes, clear as day. He had known that his brother was attached to the detective inspector ever since he helped him break from the drugs but he hadn't realised it was quite so deeply. Lestrade had told him everything so it seemed that the vampire at least returned his feelings but if this went wrong…Mycroft sighed. He needed something to distract Sherlock from whatever thoughts he was having right now.

"Do you remember the night you OD'd and got attacked?" he asked. Sherlock nodded and John settled back to listen. He was curious about Sherlock's past but he hated to ask because of what he knew it held.

"I told you that the wound on your neck was from a knife-"

"And I told you that wasn't true but you refused to tell me the truth," Sherlock cut in moodily.

"I couldn't just tell you that a vampire attacked you." Sherlock and John looked at him in shock so he continued, pleased that no further interruptions seemed to be coming.

"You were attacked and I did tell you that Gregory found you. I just didn't tell you how quickly he got to you."

Sherlock's eyes widened in understanding and he murmured "Oh."

"What?" John asked.

"I've always had one memory from after the attack. Someone comes and stops me losing any more blood. It was Lestrade; it all makes sense now. That's why he kept such a close eye on me. I thought it was unusual for an officer to keep such a close eye on a victim."

"Yes, you weren't the only one to get attached," Mycroft said and Sherlock snapped his head towards him, surprised that his brother's voice only held his approximation of fondness. He settled back into his chair as Mycroft and John started discussing what Lestrade was likely to do but he couldn't focus on the conversation. He allowed himself to become immersed in every memory he had of Lestrade and hoped that the man he loved would be safe.

Mary's eyes opened to the sight of a large empty room. It looked like it was part of a disused warehouse or something similar. She tried to move but she found that she was tied tightly to a chair.

"Nice of you to join me," a voice called out and she twisted her head to look at her kidnapper. Jim Moriarty was sitting on a chair staring at her and she flinched at the predatory smile he gave her.

"What do you want with me?" she asked, annoyed when her voice shook; she needed to be strong if she was going to get out of this.

"Oh, don't worry honey. I'm not going to touch you." The smile was terrifying her and she had to curb the desire to shudder. Moriarty seemed to sense her fright though and he dragged his chair closer to hers. She tried to pull away when she saw the blackness of his eyes but she was completely trapped.

"Don't struggle," Moriarty told her, "You'll only make your situation worse."

"And why's that?" she snapped. Moriarty looked pleased that she was fighting back but before he could answer her another voice did. Both captor and captive whipped their heads around to the corner of the room, stunned by who stood there.

"Because," Lestrade said, walking further into the room, "It'll just make us hungrier.