"He's gone off and done it again. John, I don't know where he is." Madeline told him breathlessly. John felt his eyebrows knit.

"Hold on, hold on… what?"

"He's gone." Madeline told him. "He ditched me at Piccadilly."

"Okay. Okay, okay hang on." John ran his fingers through his hair and spun in a tight circle. "Did he say anything about where he might have gone?" He could hear Madeline hum on the other end of the line as she thought to herself.

"He- oh no." John felt himself grow cold with the apprehension her tone brought on.

"Where? Where is he?" He urged.

"He went to East End." Madeline said. "He was talking about going to one of the pub." John groaned into his fist and quickly came up with a plan.

"Alright, do you think you can head over to East End safely? The sun isn't down yet so it's not too dangerous. Did Sherlock specify which bar?" He asked.

"Yeah- I mean no. He didn't say which bar, but yeah I'll hop on the Tube." Madeline explained hurriedly. "Will you meet me there?"

"I'm already on my way," John said, pinning his phone to his shoulder with his chin as he shrugged on his coat with both hands. "I'll meet you by the Upney station. Stay there and don't talk to anyone." He warned. "And keep your phone in your hand." The call was already flatlining, and John could only hope Madeline had heard his last remark.

"Mary, I'm going to East End. Put Amelia to bed." He called, shoving his gun into his waistband and making sure his jacket covered it. Mary stepped into the mudroom.

"It's Sherlock again, isn't it?" She stated rather than asked. John nodded, and his wife quickly kissed him on the cheek.

"You've got your gun?"

"Yep."

"And your mobile?" He nodded again. "Don't let him get hurt." Mary told him sternly, reaching up to kiss her doctor again.

"Mary, I've got to go." John said impatiently. He kissed her back and quickly left for the chilly night outside. He kept his head down and walked quickly, and could only hope that he didn't look suspicious. He hopped on the Tube at the White City station, and then transferred into the Green line at Algate East. When he stepped out of Upney, he did a quick scan of the street and felt a surge of panic when he didn't see Madeline waiting for him.

"John," She said by his ear. It took the doctor every last ounce of self-control to keep from whipping around and instinctively pulling his gun on her. Madeline jumped back, and John closed his eyes briefly.

"Have you seen or heard from Sherlock?" He asked. Madeline shook her head and he frowned.

"Great. So we're going to go nitpicking every pub and tavern on the East Side looking for one detective who wants to fight everybody." He muttered to himself.

"He doesn't want to fight everyone," Madeline admonished. John raised an eyebrow. Then he grabbed her arm and they set off quickly down the street.

"Have you tried calling him?" John asked in a hushed voice, like he was afraid the buildings would hear him.

"I did before I got on the Tube, and again while I was waiting for you." She said. "He didn't answer."

"Of course not." John answered. "Not surprising in the slightest." They peered into the first pub, looking among the few patrons for Sherlock's head of curly hair. He wasn't there, and they continued down the other streets in a similar fashion.

It was only after a good forty five minutes of searching that a loud noise on the next street over from where they were drew their attention. John and Madeline hurried to the source of the sound, a crowded pub called "The Lamb's Tail". Madeline hesitated a little bit before following John inside, but when something loud crashed she rushed in.

There was a large circle of onlookers and drunks all crammed together and shouting. They jostled each other as they raised their beers and shouted at whatever they were circled around, and Madeline had the sinking feeling that they were goading on Sherlock.

She pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the rude comments and complaints the patrons gave her. She wasn't able to get to the center, but she was able to push through enough people to see what was going on. Sherlock, devoid of his coat and scarf, was circling another man- probably a patron of the pub. They both looked downright murderous. The other man rushed Sherlock, and the detective blocked a wild hook his opponent threw at his jaw. Sherlock retaliated with a blow to the man's abdomen, then forcibly shoved him to the side to throw off his balance. The man stumbled and fell to the ground. Sherlock turned to the gathered crowd with a wild grin as they roared their approval.

Madeline saw patrons on the other side of the circle hauling Sherlock's beaten opponent to his feet, but something looked wrong. She craned her head to see between the shoulders of two exceptionally drunk women and saw that the man had been passed a small steak knife from a nearby table. She saw the man stagger back into the ring, and Sherlock turned to face him expectantly with a smug grin on his face. From where he was, the detective couldn't see the knife hidden behind the other man's thigh as he readied himself for the next round.

"Sherlock!" She shouted, but her voice was swallowed and drowned out by the crowd.

The fight restarted quickly. The other man leaned back and kicked at Sherlock, who simply slid out of the man's reach. Sherlock was ready to retaliate; he clocked his opponent squarely on the shoulder of the arm that was hiding the steak knife. The other man instinctively raised his arm- weapon included- and struck at Sherlock's back as the detective retreated to his side of the circle. Madeline pushed forward as she heard a crash and someone shout in pain, and when she finally broke through to the center of the circle she saw John holding a broken liquor bottle over the opponent's limp body. Sherlock blinked at him as the entire pub fell silent.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" John demanded. "I know I should be happy it's not a drug den but really? Just run off to go start a bar fight?" Sherlock gave him a watery glare that didn't look very convincing to Madeline.

"I was fine, I texted Miss Carver the details." He responded curtly. To Madeline he sounded drunk.

"No, you didn't." She interrupted, sensing how the entire pub's attention shifted to her when she spoke. "Sherlock, I've been running around London looking for you for the last hour and a half." She said. The detective furrowed his brow.

"I could have sworn I did." He muttered. John dropped the bottle he'd hit Sherlock's opponent with and disdainfully grabbed the detective by the arm.

"We're taking you back to the flat." He snapped, dragging Sherlock towards the door.

"'Ang on, you just bashed Mike o'er the head!" One of the onlookers shouted. John rolled his eyes and transferred a drunk Sherlock to Madeline, then leaned down to check the other man's pulse.

"He'll be fine. I'm a doctor, I know I didn't hit him too hard." He said, turning and abruptly leading Madeline and Sherlock out of the pub.