JOHN'S POV
It's been close to seven months and still not one word from Abrielle. Not even a trace that my little sister had even existed. All of my hope was lost as the days dragged on, and now I was hopeless, all happiness drained from my body. Flashbacks attacked me daily now and sleep was futile. I didn't know what else to do except sit here and stare at the wall. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I couldn't do anything. It was almost as if my brain was telling me she was dead, and so my head was telling me to mourn, even though I knew deep down that she was very much alive. I could feel it! She simply couldn't be dead, I'd be able to feel her loss from the world. She was alive, that I knew for sure. However, the only thing I didn't know is whether or not I'd ever find her. Everyone was searching for her, Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan … even Mycroft was trying to help us locate my missing sister. The only problem was, would we find her before the inevitable happens? Would we find her before she dies? I was worried out of my mind, there was no doubt in my mind that she was starving to death and probably injured beyond belief in her kidnapper's hands, and it was only a matter of time before time caught up with her and finished her for good. I was constantly on edge, my heart quaking in fear at the thought of my little sister, the sister I had vowed to protect, being tortured endlessly, day in and day out. I was scared, scared that I may never see her again. Scared that she may be hurt and it was all my fault. I needed to know if she was safe, I needed to know if she was anywhere close to being found. I just needed to know. I picked up the phone, my hands shaking as I dialed the number of the older Holmes. I needed to know if he was okay. Needed to know.
"I'm sorry John, we haven't found anything yet." Mycroft stated, his voice filled with sorrow as he answered his phone. Nothing? The government himself had found nothing? Even after nearly seven whole months?
"It's alright. Just tell us if you find anything." I replied, my voice barely a whisper. This was so incredibly painful. Abrielle was a part of me, my younger sister. The baby of the family that I had to protect. Mycroft was my last hope. My last piece of hope. He was the best of the best, and even he had failed. I'd never get her back. No! I couldn't think like that! She wouldn't want me to think like that. She was alive, and she would stay that way. I'd be damned if I let her die on my watch. She was my little sister, and it was my job to protect her and that was exactly what I was going to do! She always told me I was smart, even if she was just trying to make me feel better about myself. All I had to do was use my brain. I'd find Abrielle Watson, oh hell yes I would.
"Of course. How's my brother coping with all of this?" I heard Mycroft reply, taking me away from my determined thoughts. I looked towards the man in question's door. Who truly knew how he was … to the outside eye he was in total ruins. But to me he just seemed to be Sherlock, well, the old Sherlock at least. He was acting like his old recluse, sociopathic, hardened self, hiding himself away from society. Yet, who truly knew what was going on in that mind of his.
"He's a wreck. He isn't eating, he isn't talking, he just stays in his room day in and day out moping." I explained, the words slipping from my mouth without so much as a second thought. It was like I had realized the signs right away, the doctor part of my brain spurting out symptoms left and right. The only question was, why was he reacting in this way? It's not like Abrielle was any different from anyone else in his eyes. She was just a boring old person to him. So why was he acting this way? It made no sense.
"It would seem as if my dear brother is in denial." I heard Mycroft say, causing my whole body to freeze. Did he just say that Sherlock Holmes … THE Sherlock Holmes is in denial? Wait … say what now?
"What do you mean he's in denial?" I questioned, my head whirling in confusion. Why the hell was he in denial? That wasn't Sherlock Holmes. He never was in denial, he always knew everything and anything. So what did that mean?
"He doesn't want to believe that she's been kidnapped. He wants to forget it all, and John, I beg of you. Don't let him." Mycroft pleaded, his voice soft as if he were worried for his brother's wellbeing. To be honest, that was probably exactly how he felt, which only made me even more concern for the man I called my best friend. I needed to help. If he was in denial, lord only knows how much damage he'd do to his body. I'd have to help … I needed to help. If not for Sherlock's sake then for Mycroft's. We didn't need two worried older siblings, that was for sure.
"Alright, I'll help him, I promise." I stated, easing the worries of the man. Sherlock was my friend. I simply had to help him. There was no question. If he was trying to forget that Abrielle was even kidnapped we'd never get closer to finding her. We needed Sherlock back if we had any hope in finding Bree, and I was planning on slapping him back into reality, even if it hurt me in the process. Sherlock was the key to this all. I was sure he'd be able to find Abrielle in the right mindset. He was a bloody genius after all. Besides, I was smart according to Bree. We'd find her. Just … not quite yet. First came our own health. I needed to start eating and sleeping and healing myself, and then came trying to help Sherlock. So yes, we may not start looking today or tomorrow, or even next week but we'd look for her eventually. Abrielle Watson was a strong woman, a girl that had survived harsh bullies, near death experiences, and the harshest of punishments for her intelligence. She could survive a few more days. Not to mention, she might even just find a way out herself. She was the smartest of the smart and one of the most stubborn woman I know. Who's to say that she even needed us. She'd be fine, I was positive. Everything would be fine, and for now … for now I could breathe. Abrielle Watson would be found, and everything would be fine. Besides, it's not like it could get any worse.
