After what seemed like an eternity of lying there, reliving his entire relationship with Sherlock, the sun finally was coming into the room, gentle and pink. He couldn't wait until he was able to do something finally, but he realized in defeat that he didn't even have any idea what he was going to do when it was morning. He hoped at least Greg had an idea, any of idea of what they could do. Something…..anything.

John lay in bed until the light had filled his room completely. He felt exhausted and wound up all at once. After a few minutes of feeling his hand shaking again, he heard his phone begin to ring. Eager for any news at all, he answered it on the second ring.

"Hello?" John asked, hopefully. He didn't try to mask the glaring optimism in his voice.

"Hello, John" Mycroft said tiredly. John wondered if he had been able to sleep at all.

"Anything?" John asked quickly, not in the mood for pleasantries He wanted to get straight to the point of why he had called.

There was a pause. "We finally got a watch on Garret's credit card" he said. "Unfortunately, there hasn't been activity on it for two days. I'm pulling surveillance on the banks around Garret's home to see if he had been in there recently to get a new card or pull money out."

John sighed, frustrated but knowing there was nothing to be done. "Well, I guess….just keep me posted"

Mycroft sighed. "Will do, John" he said and then hung up the phone. John lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was going to be a long day.

…

John paced the sitting room floor, his nervous energy all but bursting out of him. There was nothing that he could do, nothing….John knew that he should sleep or eat but he couldn't possibly manage either. The last of the bottle of alcohol in the kitchen had been so tempting to him that he had finally poured it down the drain, knowing he wouldn't have the energy to go out and get more no matter how much he wanted to drink.

The day had been painfully uneventful; every hour John would look at the clock and count the hours Sherlock had been missing. His eyes darted to the clock and saw a blaring 6:42 staring at him; it how now been over 36 hours since Sherlock had disappeared from the asylum. With every passing hour, the chances of finding him became less and less. Even after just the first 24 hours John knew the chances were next to impossible. Garret was simply too good at hiding his tracks and if, God forbid, Sherlock didn't want to be found and was helping him then no one on Earth could find them.

Mycroft was the one with the most likely chance of finding Sherlock; he knew how he thought, had the brilliant mind Sherlock did, tucked under his pompous exterior. If he couldn't find Sherlock, then the chances weren't good. He had called John once more after he had this morning, saying the bank surveillance showed Garret at a bank located close to his house the day before Sherlock was missing. They had questioned the employees who had been videotaped assisting him, but they said that he had simply drawn some money out. Considering that it had been several thousand dollars, Mycroft assumed that he had drawn the money to use for whatever he needed after he took Sherlock, eliminating the paper trail that would come with a card. John felt his last bit of hope disappear when Mycroft admitted even he was out of ideas as to what to do anymore.

Lestrade had stopped by John's flat this morning on his way to the Yard and while they had called a few more of Garret's contacts, their trail ran dry as well. John felt completely defeated. No one had any more ideas of what to do. By now, Sherlock and Garret could be anywhere. They had vanished in the middle of the night; by the time that John found out about it, they could have been on a plane going anywhere in the world. John had hoped, with Sherlock's brilliant mind, that he would have been able to somehow reach out, send John a message. John was uncomfortable when he thought about the fact that really all signs were leading to the fact that maybe Sherlock had just left with Garret willingly.

Garret had attacked Sherlock and that was hard enough to believe; the only way he'd ever gotten away with that was because he had drugged Sherlock and tied him down. It wasn't like Garret could have drugged him and dragged him out of the hospital. Even if he could, he couldn't have gotten him on a plane in that condition. Sherlock was not the type to be led away against his will by gun point; so, what had happened? John didn't want to believe that Sherlock could have done it willingly, but it was a big, blaring possibility staring him in the face. John cursed; just when he thought Sherlock was finally getting free of Garret's hold on him.

John went to his room and threw himself on the bed; he hadn't slept in almost two days and even though he felt like he could hardly move, he knew he would just end up lying here. He rolled over on his side and placed his mobile on the side table, knocking off Sherlock's fob watch in the process. It hit the ground with a thud and John looked over the side of the bed at it. It hadn't broken; part of John wished it had. It was no doubt an awful memento from Garret to Sherlock and John didn't want it around. John picked up the watch, lying back on the bed, turning the watch around in his hands. He looked at the glowing green face, seriously considering breaking it. He flipped it over on the back and looked at the design on the back of watch. He noticed something there that he hadn't noticed before; at the top of the watch was Sherlock's initials engraved and at the bottom of the watch in miniscule letters it said "Alger Science Museum". John remembered what Sherlock had told him: "Every Saturday we used to go to the science museum….it was over favorite place to be, looking at all the exhibits and critiquing their mistakes".

John sat up, staring at the watch; he had wanted Sherlock to be clever enough to have sent him a message about where he was. Was it possible that he was this clever? Could Sherlock be somewhere related to the places that they had gone when Sherlock was a child? It made enough sense; maybe Garret was trying to earn Sherlock back to him by reliving good memories. If this museum was their favorite place to go, it might be a good place to start.

John knew he was probably getting excited over nothing; Sherlock had given him this watch the night that he had disappeared. How could he give him a clue before he was even taken? Had he known that he was going to be taken? If he did, why wouldn't he have told John?

Not having any other lead and feeling hope rise up in him, John rushed to his computer, wrenching it open. He waited for what seemed like an eternity for the computer to power on; when it finally did, he quickly did a search for the Alger Science Museum. His hope rose and fell within the span of a minuet as he saw that the museum had closed 5 years ago. It was located about an hour from their flat and though it hadn't been open for years, it still was left the way it had been. But as quickly as his hope was dashed he saw that the museum had been sold to a private buyer after it had been foreclosed on. John knew that it was a long shot but it was all that he had right now.

John dialed Lestrade's number and felt his heart hammering while it rang. "John….have you got something?" he asked when he picked it up on the other end.

John explained about his hunch, as vague as it was. "I know it might not mean anything…..but I just kind of feel like it matters"

"No, of course" Lestrade said. "We don't have any other leads anyway….we have to follow whatever leads we have."

"Will you come with me?" John asked. "If there's any chance that they might be there…..I'm sure I'm going to need some backup"

"Yes…..of course" Lestrade said. "You want me to come by your place and we can leave from there?"

"I'm going to call Mycroft….see if he wants to come with us…..I know that he doesn't have any leads to follow up on right now either" John said, before giving Lestrade a farewell and calling Mycroft. It rang several times, making John think that Mycroft wasn't going to pick up, before he finally did pick up on the last ring. "Hello, John" Mycroft said tiredly on the other end. "Have you got something?

"Yeah….yeah, I think so" John said. He explained the situation and his suspicions.

"You think that Sherlock might have seen this coming?" Mycroft asked skeptically.

"I don't know…..he might have" John said. "He was convinced when he was here that Garret was going to come back. I don't see why he would have felt safer at the hospital. But even if he didn't see this coming and it's just a suspicion, I think it's a fairly good one. Lestrade and I are going to check it out…..I wanted to see if you wanted to be there as well"

There was a long pause. "Yes…..yes of course. I suppose that you're right. I should have suspected it before now. Sherlock and Garret spent a great deal of time there. I can tell you right now that I know that Garret is the one that purchased the museum after it closed."

John felt hope, true hope rising in him for the first time since Sherlock had gone missing. "Really? You're sure?"

"I've been watching him for a while" Mycroft said with a hint of anger and malice. "It's my oversight that I didn't think of looking there sooner. I'll be over there shortly."

…

John felt a weird mix of emotions run through him all at once as he sat in the car with Mycroft and Lestrade. He was vaguely aware that he should have eaten or slept before now, feeling weak and dizzy. But at the same time, the closer that they got to the museum, the more that John felt the familiar and welcome sensation of adrenaline flow through his veins, giving him the jitters as he was ready to get going. He felt a sense of hope rising in him; he felt almost sure that something was going to happen tonight. He knew that it was more of him wanting something to happen than an actual six sense. But right now it was all that he had.

He looked across the car to where Mycroft and Lestrade sat. Both men seemed tired and drawn as he felt; John wondered how Sherlock might feel if he could see them, working constantly ever since he had been taken to get him back. He knew that Sherlock found it hard to believe that anyone cared about him, but he hoped they could find him together and actively show him how much he mattered to them all.

Night was falling as they pulled away from the city and began to drive into a more secluded, woodsy area. Big green trees and tall grass with flowers covered the whole landscape. As the sun fell, the trees began to cast shadows that seemed slightly ominous as they pulled up to a large, brick building that looked more like a castle than a museum. The old, stone structure looked remarkably unscathed though it was dark and obviously abandoned. The grass around it was tall and vines were beginning to grow along the sides of the walls. John had hoped to see at least a sliver of light in one of the windows, but was dismayed when he saw that there were no signs of life at all from the outside. The car drove through the desolate parking lot and parked in front of the entrance.

John jumped out of the car the second that it stopped, making his way quickly to the front door. He was propelled by adrenaline and the wonderful sense that he might soon be reunited with Sherlock. But he found himself pausing right as his hand was connecting with the metal handle of the enormous front door. What was he going to do if Garret was watching over Sherlock, making sure that he didn't escape that no one could come and get him? Visions of his horrible nightmare, Garret pointing a gun at Sherlock, followed by Sherlock lying dead on the ground filled his head. John began to breakout in a cold sweat, his nerves of excitement and fear warring within him. He couldn't let that happen; he had lived it so many times in his nightmares and that had been horrible enough. The thought of it actually happening was not an option. He swallowed hard as he pulled out his gun, making sure he was poised and ready; he would not be taken unaware like in his nightmares. But with that thought came an entirely new problem; what if he had to shoot Garret? There was no hesitation in his mind about doing such a thing; Garret deserved to die. But he couldn't do that in front of Sherlock; could he? He could and would do it to protect Sherlock but he wondered if it wouldn't do more mental damage by killing Garret. Sherlock would undoubtly hate him for it. And what if he wasn't being kept hostage? What if he was actually here and he didn't want to be rescued? It was a possibility that John didn't want to consider, but he had to. John could already feel his insides wilting at the possibility; he wouldn't know what to do if Sherlock had so willingly given in to him and allowed himself to come under Garret's spell again. John tried to tell himself that it wasn't possible but he had unfortunately come to learn that just about anything was possible through this whole experience.

"John? Are you okay?" Lestrade's voice behind John snapped him out of his swirling thoughts.

John shook his head as if to clear it; as if that was possible. "Yeah….yeah, I'm fine" He looked at the other two men standing in front of him, all seeming to be frozen, not knowing what to do. John didn't think that they could be as nervous as he was but he had to admit that they appeared to not relish the idea as much as John did. John looked at them, but they seemed to all be watching him for a response. "Well….lets…..go, I guess" John said, forcing his voice to be stronger than he felt. When Lestrade and Mycroft gave him a silent nod and John swallowed down his nervousness as he clutched his gun and pushed open the front door of the museum, the old hinges creaking and giving away their entrance.