A/N: Sherlock's going to continue being OOC, but don't worry, it's on purpose now. It's all part of the plot…that evolved far beyond original plans. Let's hope it doesn't back me into a corner! So here we are, people of internet land…CHAPTER X!

John:

I woke to the sound of the doorbell. I opened my eyes and sat up. I had fallen asleep on the floor. My legs were not going to be happy with me. My eyes flitted to the ground next to me. Sherlock wasn't there. I was a little worried, but it wasn't noticeable until I opened the door and saw Mycroft grimacing in the door frame. "He left in the middle of the night, didn't he." It wasn't a question.

"I'm afraid so."

"No signs of him."

"None."

"John, have you seen Sherlock…He's gone again?"

We all just stood there a moment. Then I yanked my coat on and dashed out. I was halfway down the street before the others were even out the door. I wasn't going anywhere in particular. Just out and around, like Sherlock presumably did, if he wasn't forced. That last thought stopped me in my tracks. Because that implied that he could have been taken without wanting to. Implying that…

"John! Slow down, mate! What's wrong?"

"I think someone kidnapped Sherlock." All of a sudden it was freezing to me. "We need to see who had a grudge against Sherlock, and who could have possibly known about his amnesia and taken advantage of it." If at all possible, Mycroft turned paler than I probably was. "I will get started obtaining necessary access or materials right away."

Lestrade nodded and said, "I'll see if there's anyone on the force Sherlock didn't annoy to the point where they'd be glad he'd be gone. You go back to Baker Street in case he returns."

I shook my head. "He won't be coming back alone. If he was taken, he won't be able to get away for a while, and if he wasn't, then he won't remember the address anyway. I'll go tell Mrs. Hudson to be on the lookout, and then join you at the Yard."

Lestrade nodded again. "Sounds like a plan."

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably, then simply said, "I wish you both luck. Let me know when there's a suspect you want me to find for you."

And on that cheery note, we went our separate ways.

Sherlock:

When I woke up, Moriarty was back in the room. He smiled at me, and when I saw myself in the mirror, my eyes were red and raw. "Have a good nap did we?"

I didn't respond. I didn't want my voice to give me away again. I just stared at him, the one-way glass, the ceiling, anything that gave me an excuse not to respond. He sighed in disappointment and sat down next to me. I looked at the ground between my legs. "You're behaving like a child, you know."

"Now you sound like Mycroft."

"Although, in essence, you rather are a child. The whole world is new to you, every experience something to examine. The only difference is you're expected to know this already, and a child isn't."

I risked a glance at him. He was grinning insanely. "I got it, didn't I? Oh, Sherlock, your face says it all."

I looked at the floor again. If this was who Sherlock Holmes was, a raging sociopath who worked with murders and had a man like this for an arch-enemy, than I didn't want to be him. I wanted to be someone who was relatively normal, someone people could tolerate, and one who didn't have an arch-enemy. All I wanted was to be normal. Tears threatened to start spilling again. Moriarty wrapped his arms around me in an attempt to comfort me. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, did I upset you? Usually I'd enjoy this as much as the next person, seeing your closed off heart open up, but in your state, that really can't be good, can it? Don't cry, please."

But it was too late. I was shaking all over. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything except sit there and cry, as the man who terrified me so much soothed me and tried to help me calm down. I felt like a toddler, and I didn't care. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. Then Moriarty started singing a lullaby. I wanted to stay awake, prove I was better than that, if nothing else. But sleep kept gnawing at me, and soon I was fast asleep with the world's most dangerous criminal sitting next to me, singing me into oblivion.

Moriarty:

I'll admit, it was fun toying with Sherlock. He had no control over his emotions whatsoever, and seeing his pure fear and anger towards me was such a refreshing change to the cool exterior he kept up the rest of the time. But when he woke up, I knew I needed to play him over to my side. Still, when I walked in it was all I could do not to burst out laughing at his eyes being all red and puffy. He was crying in the face of fear, much like that little boy I used with Sherlock during the Vermeer painting. And that gave me the inspiration I needed to get him to work with me. "Have a good nap did we?"

He didn't say anything. He just stared at everything around us, as if I hadn't even spoken. I was a little irked, but Sherlock having to be Sherlock without knowing how to would be pretty hard. "You're behaving like a child, you know." He mumbled something about sounding like Mycroft, but I just plowed on. "Although, in essence, you rather are a child. The whole world is new to you, every experience something to examine. The only difference is you're expected to know this already, and a child isn't. …I got it, didn't I? Oh, Sherlock, your face says it all."

He tucked his head in between his knees. He was on the verge of a breakdown now, but if I wanted this to go quickly, I needed to break him down as soon as possible. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, did I upset you? Usually I'd enjoy this as much as the next person, seeing your closed off heart open up, but in your state, that really can't be good, can it? Don't cry, please." I knew it was in vain, but I didn't expect him to break as much as he did! He was heaving and shaking and looking overall undignified. But he didn't care, and I was just one step closer to he and I being able to work together. After a little while, I wanted to see just how deep this new revelation ran. So I sang him a lullaby, and within minutes he was fast asleep huddled in his corner! I got up and walked out of the room. As I passed Mycroft on the way out, I said, "It appears your brother has regressed into a 2-year-old in all but his size. I look forward to seeing how we can use this to our advantage." He just nodded and said, "I hope you have better luck with him now than I did about 25 years ago…"

Well, writing Sherlock regressing... ... ...I'm sorry if you guys hate this now or don't enjoy it being it like this, but in a way, I'm living up to the summary. He's becoming a normal toddler. Don't worry, though, his condition will improve...and hopefully sooner or later show signs of being a normal adult, and not a kid. But, I do love the idea of John using this as blackmail material...heheheh...just keep an eye out, I suppose.