John bolted upright in his bed as there was a knock on his front door. In his mind, he heard Sherlock say: "The game is on."
He could picture both the detective and Marie, their eyes bright with expectation and anticipation. His heart pounded with the leftover adrenaline from his dream- he'd been remembering some of the early days with Sherlock.
He was startled out of his thoughts as the banging on his front door continued, and he quickly got up, grabbing a robe as he walked over to his door, taking a deep breath as he swung it open. He blinked in shock as a tearful woman stood before him, also still in her dressing gown.
"I know it's early." The woman said through suppressed sobs. "Really, I'm sorry."
She started to sob uncontrollably again and John could only stare in confusion.
"Is that Kate?" Mary asked from behind him as the blonde threw on her dressing gown and peered blearily at the front door.
"Y-yeah, it's Kate." John replied, still standing at the door, and he continued to stare at the woman in confusion.
"Going to invite her in?" Mary asked, hinting at him and John broke out of his shock at last as he stuttered: "Er, sorry, yes. D-d'you wanna come in, Kate?"
The sobbing woman stepped inside, and John was still puzzled as he shut the door behind their neighbour while Mary said soothingly: "Hey..."
She hugged the woman and settled her on the sofa, listening to the woman's story as John made them hot cups of tea.
"It's all right." Mary soothed as she rubbed Kate's back, the woman unable to stop her sobs.
John walked over, setting the mugs of tea down before the women and murmuring: "There you go."
"It's Isaac." Mary explained, and John replied: "Ah, your husband."
"Son." Mary corrected, looking at John pointedly.
"Son, yeah." John quickly corrected.
Kate's sobs finally died a little as she told them: "He's gone missing again. Didn't come home last night."
Her voice broke a little and Mary sighed, saying sympathetically: "The usual."
"He's the drugs one, yeah?" John asked.
Kate began sobbing again, and Mary stared at John in disbelief before saying flatly: "Er, yeah, nicely put, John."
"Well, is it Sherlock Holmes you want?" John asked the woman, still confused as to why she was here. "Because I've not seen him in ages."
"About a month." Mary said in exasperation, and Kate looked between the couple in confusion.
"Who's Sherlock Holmes?" She asked and Mary chimed in, looking at John pointedly: "See? That does happen."
Kate explained in a shaky voice: "There's a– a place they all go to, him and his... friends." She said the word like it was a swear word. "They all... do whatever they do... shoot up, whatever you call it." She said in a breaking voice.
"Where is he?" John asked suddenly and Kate looked up in confusion as she replied: "It's a house. It's a dump. I mean, it's practically falling down."
"No, the address." John interrupted, and Mary looked at him in surprise. John just looked at Kate as he asked firmly: "Where, exactly?"
"Seriously?" Mary asked as she followed John down their front steps, and John replied: "Why not? She's not going to the police. Someone's got to get him."
He unlocked the car and walked towards it as Mary asked pointedly: "Why you?"
"Being neighbourly." John replied, and Mary retorted with raised hands: "Since when?"
"Since now. Since this exact minute." John replied shortly as he opened his car door and Mary asked sceptically as she gestured: "Why are you being so ...?"
"What?" John asked, and Mary shrugged: "I dunno. What's the matter with you?"
John shouted defensively: "There is nothing the matter with me! Imagine I said that without shouting." He added at the end and Mary snorted: "I'm trying."
The blonde woman strode towards the car as well, and John protested: "No, you can't come. You're pregnant."
"You can't go. I'm pregnant." She retorted as she climbed into the front seat. John frowned, but decided not to answer as he also got in and drove away.
After they'd arrived, John walked over to the car boot, pulling out a metal lever before shutting the boot firmly. As he walked passed, Mary laughed a little as she asked: "What is that?"
She pointed at the thing John as carrying and he glanced down at it.
"It's a tyre lever." He answered as though it was obvious as he tucked it into his pants and Mary added incredulously: "Why?"
"'Cause there were loads of smackheads in there, and one of them might need help with a tyre." John replied sarcastically. "If there's any trouble, just go. I'll be fine."
He turned and began walking away, when Mary called after him, getting out of the car: "Wait, John, John, John, John."
He turned and she smirked from where she stood by the open car door.
"It is a tiny bit sexy." She smiled, and John replied with as straight a face as he could manage: "Yeah, I know."
John turned back to the house, walking swiftly over to the deprecate house.
"Hello?" He called as he banged on the front door loudly, ignoring the faded 'Private Property. Keep out' sign. The door creaked open to reveal a thin man with dirty blond hair, a swallow face and deep, dark circles under his eyes peering out from under the hood of his jacket.
"What d'you want?" The man asked suspiciously and John just pushed past firmly as he said: "'Scuse me."
He strode inside boldly, and the man called back to him indignantly: "Hey, you can't come in 'ere!"
John didn't even look back, glancing through the various rooms as he called: "I'm looking for a friend. A very specific friend, I'm not just browsing."
John turned back to the other man as he said sharply: "You've gotta go. No-one's allowed 'ere."
John ignored him as he asked: "Isaac Whitney. You seen him?"
The man just scowled at him as he fished out a knife from his jacket pocket. John said sarcastically: "I'm asking you if you've seen Isaac Whitney, and now you're showing me a knife. Is it a clue?"
The man jerked his hand to the door, gesturing for John to get out. John pretended not to understand as he mocked: "Are you doing a mime?"
"Go. Or I'll cut you." The man said warningly, and John pointed out: "Ooh, not from there. Let me help."
He strode back to the other man, and as the man's hand quivered he said firmly: "Now, concentrate. Isaac Whitney."
"Okay, you asked for it." The man said darkly, but John just rolled his eyes, shoving the other man's hand away, hitting him once and twisting his arm to make him drop the knife, and then kicking out the man's legs from under him, forcing him to land on his behind.
As the man groaned in pain, leaning against the wall, John picked up the dropped knife and asked with some humour: "Right. Are you concentrating yet?"
"You broke my arm!" The man moaned and John sighed: "No, I sprained it."
"It feels squishy. Is it supposed to feel squishy? Feel that!" The man demanded and John felt it just to oblige the man as he replied: "Yeah, it's a sprain. I'm a doctor, I know how to sprain people. Now where is Isaac Whitney?"
"I don't know!" The man whimpered and John gave him a stern look. The man suggested: "Maybe upstairs?"
John finally nodded, saying as he patted the man's knee: "There you go. Wasn't that easy?"
"No. It's really sore." The man grumbled, and as John walked over to the stairs, he added bitterly: "You're mental, you are."
"No, Just used to a better class of criminal." John replied lightly as he climbed the stairs quickly. He could hear someone coughing and as he walked into the first large room on the second floor, he found himself looking at a group of people, all lining the walls as they lay in half-drugged states.
"Isaac?" He called, walking into the room carefully. "Isaac Whitney?"
As he walked along one of the walls, closer to the people lying around he whispered again: "Isaac?"
Finally, there was a response as one of the boys lifted his hand dazedly. John quickly walked over to the boy lying on one of the beds, murmuring: "Hello, mate. Sit up for me? Sit up."
He helped the boy sit up, checking the boy's eyes as his eyes rolled just slightly. The boy was unable to focus as he asked dully: "Dr Watson?"
"Yep." John replied as he checked the boy's vitals, and the boy asked in that same drugged tone: "Where am I?"
"The arse-end of the universe with the scum of the Earth." John muttered, and added as he tried to get the boy to focus: "Look at me."
"Have you come for me?" The boy mumbled, barely able to speak through his haze as he tried to focus his eyes on the doctor.
"Do you think I know a lot of people here?" John retorted.
The boy smirked stupidly at that and John patted him a little as he checked: "Hey, all right?"
He froze as a familiar voice spoke from behind him.
"Ah, hello, John. Didn't expect to see you here."
John turned numbly, staring at a man dressed in a dirty hoodie, his face unshaven and hair clearly not washed in days.
"Did you come for me, too?" Sherlock Holmes asked, and John could only stare in a mix of disbelief and fury.
"Hallo, Isaac." Mary greeted as the boy came up to the car.
The boy called blearily as he walked up to the back door of the car: "Mrs Watson, can I, can I get in, please?"
"Yes, of course," Mary said as she indicated for him to climb in, "get in."
"Where's John?" She added as she saw no further movement from the front doors.
"They're 'avin' a fight." Isaac mumbled, staggering a little as he climbed into the car.
Mary looked at him in disbelief as she asked: "Who is?"
Her question was answered the next second as one of the side doors burst open and Sherlock shouted angrily and in exasperation: "For God's sakes, John! I'm on a case!"
John followed the other man out the door, and as the pair walked down the fire escape stairs John said incredulously: "A month, that's all it took. One."
"I'm working." Sherlock retorted as he jumped the rest of the way down, jumping onto the large bins as he walked down towards the road.
John followed as his voice became increasingly louder and angrier: "Sherlock Holmes in a drug den! How's that gonna look?"
"I'm undercover." Sherlock repeated, and John shouted sceptically: "No you're not!"
"Well, I'm not now!" Sherlock shouted in a mix of drugged haze, anger and exasperation.
Mary drove up to the pair, snapping shortly: "In. Both of you, quickly."
As John climbed into the front passenger seat and Sherlock moved to open the back door, the man John had injured earlier came running up. Mary sighed irritably as she saw the man, who asked: "Please. Can I come? I think I've got a broken arm."
"No. Go away." Mary said flatly, but John muttered: "No, let him."
Mary turned to her husband incredulously as she demanded: "Why?"
John ignored her as he called to the man: "Yeah, just get in. It's a sprain."
Mary sighed, her grip on the steering wheel tightening as she asked, annoyed: "Anyone else? I mean, we're taking everybody home, are we?"
John sighed tiredly as the man climbed in after Sherlock, forcing Sherlock into the middle seat. He nodded at the detective as he asked: "All right, Shezza?"
"'Shezza'?" John asked as he turned around to look at his friend, and Sherlock retorted as he pointed out: "I was undercover."
Mary glanced at him through the rear-view mirror as she asked amusedly: "Seriously, 'Shezza,' though?! "
Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance while John said firmly: "We're not going home. We're going to Bart's. I'm calling Molly."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone as Mary asked in disbelief: "Why?"
"Because Sherlock Holmes," John said as he turned to glare at the man in question, "needs to pee in a jar."
He turned back to the front, Mary sighed and Sherlock rolled his eyes as Mary drove them away.
As Molly finished off her test, she pulled off her rubber gloves with a sharp snap.
"Well? Is he clean?" John asked impatiently, and Molly turned to him.
"Clean?" She asked sarcastically. John sighed heavily as Molly walked over to stand right before Sherlock.
She stood before the dark-haired man and slapped him hard across the face. Everyone looked up at the sharp sound- John, Isaac, the strange man and Mary from where she'd been tending to the unknown man's arm. As Sherlock just stood numbly, Molly slapped him again, just as hard.
John grimaced, but when Sherlock showed no reaction, she slapped his other cheek, this time causing his head to turn from the force. As Sherlock grimaced and groaned softly in pain, she snapped with cold fury: "How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with? And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say you're sorry."
As Molly stood glaring up at him, Sherlock gripped his cheek tenderly as he said flatly: "Sorry your engagement's over. Though I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring."
He massaged his jaw as Molly's eyes filled with tears and she said in a low voice filled with anger: "Stop it. Just stop it."
John also strolled over, saying angrily: "If you were anywhere near this kind of thing again, you could have called, you could have talked to me."
"Please do relax. This is all for a case." Sherlock said tiredly, and John asked incredulously: "A ca... What kind of case would need you doing this? And why didn't Marie stop you?"
John noticed just the slightest flash of emotion cross the detective's face before it was gone and he retorted in his usual fashion: "I might as well ask you why you've started cycling to work."
Molly's frown deepened while John said flatly, still absorbed in that flash of pain that had crossed Sherlock's face: "No. We're not playing this game. Now, where's Marie? She's not answering her phone either."
"Quite recently, I'd say. You're very determined about it." Sherlock added, and John retorted: "Not interested. Where's-?"
"I am." The strange man suddenly chimed in, and Sherlock was thankful for the interruption- he really didn't want to talk about Marie. The man then complained as Mary bandaged his arm: "Ow!"
"Oh, sorry. You moved." Mary said, but she added comfortingly: "But it is just a sprain."
"Yeah. Somebody 'it me." The man said in his dazed voice, but his eyes flickered over to John as Mary looked up and asked confusedly: "Huh?"
Sherlock and Mary both glanced over at John as he stood awkwardly swinging his arms. The man just replied vaguely as his eyes moved away from John: "Eh, just some guy."
Sherlock continued to glance at John, who replied in a tight voice: "Yeah, probably just an addict in need of a fix."
"Yes, I think, in a way, it was." Sherlock muttered, and John gave him a pointed look.
They were interrupted by the man piping up again as he asked: "Is it his shirt?"
Sherlock paused, and then turned to the man sharply, asking: "I'm sorry?"
"Well, it's the creases, innit?" The man asked, and his eyes slid back to John. Sherlock's eyes also moved to John's shirt, as the man explained what Sherlock had noticed earlier: "The two creases down the front."
John closed his jacket uncomfortably but the man continued: "It's been recently folded but it's not new. Must have dressed in a hurry this morning. So all your shirts must be kept like that."
John's mouth fell open while Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he examined the man, who went on: "But why? Maybe 'cause you cycle to work every morning, shower when you get there an' then dress in the clothes you brought with you."
Sherlock raised a brow, impressed while John's jaw set.
"You keep your shirts folded, ready to pack." The man finished.
John's mouth twitched irritably while Sherlock commented: "Not bad."
The man added confidently: "An' I further deduce," Sherlock glanced at John in surprise while John looked a little stunned, "you've only started recently, because you've got a bit of chafing."
John glanced down while Sherlock's brows raised and he mumbled: "No, he's always walked like that. Remind me, what's your name again?" He added, and John looked up to glare at the man as well.
He replied, his eyes much sharper now than they'd been before: "They call me The Wig."
"No they don't." Sherlock replied sharply, and the man tried: "Well, they-they call me Wiggy."
"Nope." Sherlock said flatly, and the man fidgeted a little while everyone else stared between the pair. John hadn't seen a battle of wits like this since Marie.
The man's eyes moved down as he finally admitted sheepishly, knowing when he was beaten: "Bill. Bill Wiggins."
"Nice observational skills, Billy." Sherlock commented; although the phrase itself was a compliment, he said it so mockingly that it came across as more of an insult.
Sherlock's attention was diverted as his phone beeped, and he glanced down, opening his text message as he muttered triumphantly: "Ah! Finally."
"'Finally' what?" Molly asked sharply while Bill chimed in: "Good news?"
Sherlock didn't look up as he said enthusiastically: "Oh, excellent news, the best."
His eyes finally glanced up for a second before he looked back down, typing a response as he told them: "There's every chance that my drug habit might hit the newspapers. The game is on."
He walked towards the door, this time punching in a number and as he raised it to his ear, he turned to them all as he said dismissively: "Excuse me for a second."
He walked out, leaving the others to all stare at him dumbfounded.
'Where the hell is Marie?' John wondered as he watched his friend disappear.
Sherlock waited for the other person to pick up, and exactly two rings later, a woman answered: "Hello?"
"He's made contact." Sherlock said, getting straight to the point.
He listened as Marie took a sharp breath, before murmuring: "So, it's finally time to play the game."
He nodded once, even though she couldn't see him, knowing she'd take his silence as agreement. Her tone became business-like as she as asked: "So, what do you want me to do?"
Sherlock hesitated before murmuring: "I want you to get out. Head somewhere discreet, make it really look like you're trying to disappear."
She snorted as she replied: "That's not too hard, it's what I'm doing- avoiding Mycroft's people isn't easy you know. It was killer making sure he believed I was in Italy, although that's recently been exposed."
Sherlock grinned just a little bit and there was a pause between the two.
"Sherlock, you are taking care of yourself though, aren't you?" Marie suddenly asked in a low voice and Sherlock's voice caught as his throat tightened.
"Of course." He murmured and she said a little sharply: "You know, if you can't lie properly you really shouldn't bother trying."
Sherlock laughed a little at that, but he replied: "Well, I thought I'd let you hear what you wanted to hear."
She sighed and Sherlock's smile disappeared from his face.
"I miss you." Marie murmured quietly, and Sherlock sighed.
"As do I." He admitted quietly.
There was a beat of silence before Marie was back to business as she said firmly: "Alright, I'm leaving within the hour. Don't forget to keep me posted."
Sherlock didn't say anything, just staring into space. Marie finally murmured softly: "Bye, love."
"Bye, V." Sherlock murmured back under his breath.
He could almost picture her smile at that, but she hung up immediately. Sherlock lowered his phone slowly, and for a moment allowed the pain and loneliness of not having Marie by his side course through his body. It was too soon after their two year separation, but this was something he needed to do.
So after letting himself bathe in his pain for just one moment, Sherlock returned to business, turning back to the lab where his friends stood waiting.