Sherlock was gone the next morning when John woke up. He stumbled down the stairs from his bedroom to find the flat all tidied up. Mrs. Hudson was bustling around the flat, a cup of tea on the table in front of John's spot.
"I thought we weren't our maid?" John teased gently.
"I'm not." Mrs. Hudson replied. "Sherlock's gone." A stone dropped in John stomach. The way the landlady had stated the fact made John worry beyond all other worry.
"What do you mean?" John asked, fear prickling in his stomach.
"He's in jail, John. He got a lead late last night, and came up to my door at about 11:30. He said he was going out and that if he wasn't back by morning to take care of you."
"What do you mean, take care of me?" John fumbled to keep his voice from trembling. It sounded like….
"He's not coming back John." Mrs. Hudson confirmed the worse fear of the army doctor.
"How did you know?" John asked. He wanted to know something about the current situation. Even if it was something as useless as who had been told.
"Mycroft contacted me. He said he had told no one else, and to tell no one except you." Mrs. Hudson replied sounding sad for John.
"I need to talk to Mycroft." John stated. He pulled his phone from the table-top and bounded down the stairs. He didn't care to change from his pajamas, he needed to take a walk and call Mycroft.
John walked down the street as he dialed the other Holmes brother's phone number. He held the speaker to his ear and listened to the dull tones of the other line ringing. Would Mycroft even answer a call? He had to right? He had to expect that John would be ringing him up as soon as he found out. Finally, the tones ended and a voice answered.
"Hello?" Mycroft asked.
"What the hell, Mycroft!" John nearly roared. Understanding who was calling him at 6:00 in the morning, Mycroft become more somber.
"What do you mean?" Mycroft said wearily.
"You know what I mean! What happened to Sherlock? Where is he?" John panicked. He picked up his speed to a quick walk, forcing his heart to beat faster and his breaths to come shorter.
"He is in jail, John. He killed a man."
The air escaped from his lungs and his run stopped dead. The doctor's head swam and his vision became blurry.
"No." Was all John could muster.
"Yes. He killed a middle age man at around 12:00 last night. He just stood and stared at his wife as the woman dialed the police." Mycroft replied.
"This has to be a mistake, Mycroft. He wouldn't kill anyone, not on purpose." John fumbled for some way to defend the man who mattered most to him.
"The evidence was all there, John. The blood was on his hands. He had a maniacal rage on his face. There was a steak plate on the table in front of the couch. Blood was on the floor. A knife and fork were placed parallel in the man's chest. We didn't need Sherlock to deduce this crime scene." Mycroft laid out all the facts.
"I have to see him." Was the first words that came out of the bloggers mouth, even though he fought to hold them back. Deep down he knew seeing his best friend was selfish, when he should have been telling Molly and a few others about Sherlock's imprisonment.
"Not now, John. He is being held in a high-security center. You won't be able to see him until his trial next week." Mycroft replied as gently as he could. John was an explosive, and Sherlock had been keeping the timer stuck at the 10 second mark on his timer. If something really happened to him, Mycroft knew, John would go insane.
"I need to see him." John repeated, the cold air pressing in and constructing his lungs. The freezing morning held John in its unforgiving embrace.
"You can't. Not for a week."
A/N So sorry for the long wait guys! I have been super sick and am still getting over some sort of bug or something. I hope you are all enjoying the story.