Mycroft has removed me from my flat and sent me to the other side of London. Currently, the only person who knows this other than Mycroft and me is Mary. Mycroft doesn't trust her though...
Sherlock didn't exactly trust her either. He silently applauded his brother's judgement, although he would never admit it.
Where was Mary when John had been kidnapped? Hadn't she been with him on a date? Surely she would have recognized the fact that he had been gone for a rather long time after he had disappeared for ten minutes. Either she was very stupid, or she was working against him. But why? How could she gain anything from working with Moriarty's old accomplices? Unless, perhaps, she was one of them.
But she couldn't! There was no way possible for Sherlock to have missed that when she had come to him and John with a case.
Sherlock balanced himself on the back of the hotel room's armchair, palms pressed together and eyes tightly closed as if he were in prayer. Surely, at one time or other, she had done something strange, something suspicious. He went through every moment of the case, analyzing every second he had spent with her. He came up with nothing. All that he could now was hope that his suspicions were wrong or wait until Mary proved him to right.
I'm sorry for the enormous long wait and the short chapter. I have been doing Nanowrimo and didn't want to distract myself with fanfiction. (Nonetheless, I still ended up with about 30,000 words instead of 50,000 :P) Please review!