a/n Hello everyone! Happy April! I'm so very excited to finally get some nice weather. I need some sun!

I dug deep into this last night with a Muse Concert on... I'm pretty happy with where its going. I'm expecting two more chapters.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Steph

Dull…

Dull dull dull and duller…

Sherlock's day could be summed up quickly with just that one word.

It was hard enough not being able to go where he pleased when he damn well wanted to. But to make matters worse he was stuck in Mycroft's boring mausoleum-like house for god knows how long.

His niece and nephew were sent back to their boarding school this morning as previously planned for their weekly instruction and Mycroft's hired help had been given a few days off to mask Sherlock's presence.

And his brother was busy with the country.

He'd been left by himself… alone to his own devices. It was a very dangerous situation…

And unfortunately he was still too weak to take advantage of it.

Sherlock had smirked at the news though. First he'd planned to make sure he made an ungodly mess in Mycroft's own personal bathroom and even leave worn clothes all over the furniture. He knew his brother…. He couldn't stand mess or clutter. He'd end up cleaning it up himself and Sherlock couldn't wait to watch as his brother seethed and muttered inappropriate language to himself.

Unfortunately he just couldn't muster up the energy to bother. He just wanted to go back to his Flat… back to his own space and his friend.

But the Consulting Detective wouldn't leave and Mycroft knew it. Otherwise he'd have never left his little bother alone.

It was safer this way… more for John then anyone.

So the dark haired man sat in the library, going through books he'd already read to pass the time.

Boring…

It was 7:30 in the evening when Sherlock plopped down a dusty old copy of some obvious Murder/Mystery novel, when a ringing sound reached his ear.

Sherlock pulled himself to his feet to pad into the next room for the untraceable cell phone his brother had given him. He'd been doing a lot better today. Walking was now about as easy as it should have been as long as he didn't overdo it. The only struggle he still encountered was the stairs. But that would come back quick too… he just needed to find some patience. Which for Sherlock Holmes, was easier said then done.

Making it just in time before the phone stopped ringing, Sherlock hit a button and lifted it to his ear. The PRIVATE on the ID could only be one person.

"Mycroft…"

"I bloody well hope you haven't destroyed my house today little brother."

Sherlock huffed. "I'm getting to it… What do you want?"

"Just checking in." Mycroft sighed over the line. "Also I have to work late tonight so I hope you can prepare yourself some dinner on your own."

"I'm sure I can manage. Am I still too young to use the stove while no one is home? Or should I use the microwave?" Sherlock actually smiled at his own words. He was enjoying the friendly banter with his brother lately. It had been a long time since he even WANTED to talk to his brother.

"Very funny. Though I'd rather you stayed away from the stove regardless of your age."

Sherlock ignored Mycroft's comment. "So what top secret project are you forced to work late on tonight? Or are you avoiding my company…"

"Actually Sherlock… you may find this ridiculous but I'd very much like to spend time with you… after… all of this. But someone has to run the country."

Mycroft's voice had a hint of exhaustion. The man worked and worried too hard. "But of course… how silly of me."

"Anyways… I will let you return to whatever you were preoccupying your time with… besides… isn't it time to call Doctor Watson?"

Sherlock smirked. "Why yes… I think it's about that time now."

"Sherlock… be careful. We are going through with this insane plan because it's supposed to keep you both safe. One slip and its all for naught."

The sigh on the other end did not go unnoticed by the older Holmes.

"I understand the risks brothers."

"Good… Now go make your phone call. If you need me you know the number."

"I wont need you. Don't worry."

Mycroft didn't take his little brothers words seriously. There had been no power behind his smart ass comments since he'd… "Came back". But Mycroft Holmes was still glad that he tried.

"Stay away from the stove! A Sandwich will suffice. "

"Bye Mycroft."

And with that the call was disconnected.

Sherlock ran a hand over his tired face as he came down from the phone call. Being reminded about how dangerous things were right now made him anxious. It would have been different if he could just act when he wanted to. Moriarty was a mentally ill and frightening man but Sherlock could handle that. The Consulting Detective was more scared of his own weaknesses.

He didn't mention it to anyone else… even John… But Sherlock knew the reason behind this "Fake Death" game. James Moriarty wanted Sherlock weak. He'd expected John to figure things out… He planned on Sherlock coming out of it. And his prolonged weakness would be perfect for whatever Moriarty had planned. This deduction was the reason why Sherlock wanted to hide himself. He didn't want John in harms way with him too weakened to do anything about it.

He was absolutely sure that Moriarty had that in mind. He was counting on it. It was all part of his game.

Sherlock shook his head to rid his always-working mind to slow down. It was time to call John and he'd much rather it be upbeat. His long pale fingers ran over the buttons on the phone without hesitation.

The phone started ringing and Sherlock waited anxiously. His leg bounced up and down impatiently. After 7 rings the phone beeped for a voicemail. Sherlock winced slightly at his aching muscles as he hoisted himself to his feet. Now pacing, he called the number again.

Again it went to voicemail.

He tried again…

Then again…

Nothing.

"Damn it John." He muttered.

Something was wrong. John should be answering. He should be home from work by now and knowing how responsible his friend was, he'd make sure the phone was with him and charged.

Every detail and piece of information he knew about John and his habits screamed that something wasn't right.

Something he'd been worried about… deep down…

Moriarty.

Sherlock covered his mouth with his hand, taping his long fingers on his frowning lips as he looked about the empty room.

There was only one thing he could do now. He closed his blue eyes and inhaled deeply, holding it briefly as he let his mind map out his next course of action.

Sherlock blew out the held breath through his teeth and popped opened his eyes as he forced his legs to move.

There was no other way.

John needed him.

The Consulting Detective grabbed his coat and scarf and bundled up on the fly as he moved toward the door and the keys that hung on the peg next to it. Mycroft wouldn't miss one of his precious cars.

And frankly… he didn't give a damn.

Sarah had just settled onto the couch for her evening programs when a heavy knock echoed in the flat.

The tired woman groaned and pulled herself from the comfy cushions. Who would be bothering her right now? She knew John was going home for the night to relax as she had been trying to do. She wasn't expecting a package or a Jehovah's Witness tonight. With her luck it would be the kids down the hall playing a joke and getting her up off the warm spot on the sofa for nothing.

But after leaning to look into the peephole on the door, her jaw dropped in surprise… and then her eyebrows creased in severe annoyance. Suddenly she wished it were the kids down the hallway.

Sarah pulled the chain off the door and unlatched the lock. She yanked the door open and stared up at the face of Sherlock Holmes… the… uh… Dead… Sherlock Holmes.

"I knew it…" She grumbled.

Sherlock smirked and stepped forward without an invitation into Sarah's flat. The small woman moved to allow it and closed the door behind him. Then she turned back toward her living room, leaving the dark haired man standing in the hallway still smirking slightly.

"That's because you are a very intuitive and observant woman. I am impressed." Sarah's lack of reaction to his sudden appearance gave Sherlock all he needed as far as information. She picked up on something in John's mood to clue her in. John wasn't a great actor.

Sherlock walked over to stand in front of the TV that Sarah so desperately wanted to enjoy… alone.

"So he lied to me? I've been so stressed out and worried for that man and he lie to me about the whole thing?" The tired woman couldn't help the disappointed sound in her voice. She thought they had something going together… how can she trust him if he already started lying to her.

"With good reason…" Sherlock's tone was hollow and Sarah's face scrunched up.

"Good reason? It better be a GREAT reason!"

Sherlock didn't hide the roll of his eyes.

"For your safety… he wanted to tell you but chose not to. It was for your own protection."

Sarah looked sideways at the bundled up man in front of her… Sherlock hadn't taken his scarf off much less his coat. He obviously hadn't planned on staying. But there was something else about him… something dark and haunted. Worry… and sickness? No… she see's sickness all the time. This is harder… deeper.

"So did you have to fake your death to keep out of reach of some bad guy?"

"Yes and no." Sherlock sighed and walked a couple steps over to rest on the arm of the couch. He was now facing the muted TV and he looked down at his gloved fingers for a moment of thought.

That's when Sarah saw it…

Weariness.

It coated him. It was starting to affect her as well. What ever this man had gone through it was taking its toll on him now. She had a feeling it wasn't something that happened to him often.

"Explain."

Sherlock turned his head to her, locking his piercing blue eyes on her own. The once cold and emotionless Sherlock Holmes now had worry etched in his features. It did not suit him.

"I was drugged. It's complicated. I didn't die but I might as well have… for everyone around me I was. John didn't initially lie to you. But for the last 5 day's he's kept up with it. So yes… I suppose he DID lie eventually."

Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head as she took in Sherlock's words. She could understand now. John was protecting her from something.

"Why are you here?"

"Looking for John…" Sherlock looked at her… his eyes almost looked… Pleading? Like he hoped she had some sort of perfect answer to fix everything.

"Why…"

Sherlock didn't answer and looked away… back at his hands.

"He's in trouble isn't he…"

It wasn't a question.

"I'll get him back." Sherlock's voice was strong this time and he stood up from the arm of the chair with confidence.

"You better."

Sherlock looked at the strong woman next to him and actually gave a small smile. "I see why John keeps you around. I get it now."

"Funny… I don't see why he keeps YOU around… this is… what? His third kidnapping?"

Sherlock actually flinched. He wasn't on his game and sadly… didn't hide it.

"If John contacts you… "

Sarah stood as well and crossed her arms. "I'll let you know."

Sherlock walked toward the door but stopped at the small table by it and dropped a post-it note on it. "Number…"

Sarah nodded and Sherlock turned the knob and pulled the heavy wood door open.

"Hey… Sherlock…"

Those blue eyes turned on her again and she swallowed thickly. "Sherlock don't fool with me. You knew he wasn't here when you knocked on that door."

Sherlock considered her words for a moment and then gave her a short nod. Yes... he did know John wasn't there.

Sarah closed her eyes as she took everything in. She was starting to feel bad for the tall thin man in front of her. It was clear he came here tonight because he needed to connect somehow. Well… then she had something to say.

"John wasn't… John anymore. I knew right away that something had changed the last few days... he was himself again. Yea he was guarded but…now I know why. I don't know what it is with you two but you seem to bring out of John what he'd normally hide from. And that's a good thing…. So… don't let him down again."

Sherlock didn't answer but for a moment she thought she saw his eyes twinkle at her words. He nodded and let himself out… leaving Sarah finally alone with her televisions and no interest in watching it.

Lestrade hated late night calls telling him there was another murder. It cut up more and more of his faith in humanity and pulling himself out of bed to pick up the mess was getting hard and harder.

The call came in about an hour ago. A woman was found in a garbage can by a tenant in the apartment building. Now why couldn't this tenant bring out the trash at a reasonable hour? It was almost midnight now… who needed to take out the trash that badly?

Lestrade grumbled as he lifted up the yellow caution tape, juggling a couple coffees as he walked up to Sally Donovan. Her hand was moving fast as she wrote down all the new information she had just gotten. Her eyes twitched up as she saw him approach her.

"What do we got Donovan?" Lestrade looked over at the sheet-covered body and winced inwardly as he handed Donovan one of the warm cups. The only thing visible was the poor woman's pale face.

"Looks like she was strangled sir. We're waiting on the ME to give us an idea of time of death."

"Is Anderson on tonight?" He wasn't very fond of the man but he was pretty good and quick at his job. He would love to get home sometime before dawn.

"Not tonight…" And she left it at that.

Lestrade nodded. "ID yet?"

"No ID on her but the neighbor identified her on scene as Mary Weston. Lives in the 3rd floor flat with her fiancé Tom. We're still waiting on a last name for Tom."

"Where is Tom?"

"Apparently he's out of town according to a neighbor. " Sally pointed to the left with her pen at a middle-aged woman talking with another officer. "Left yesterday early morning. We're going to look into it."

"Good…"

Lestrade looked down at the blond woman and sighed with exasperation. He really disliked all of this. But it was his job and he'd see it through. The worst was alerting next of kin.

"I need contact information of any family…

Lestrade was mid sentence when he watched Sally's eyes divert from his face and widen. He was glad he was standing a few feet away from her when the coffee she'd just been sipping spewed in a mist from her mouth in shock.

"What the bloody hell…" Lestrade stepped back to avoid the liquid.

Sally Donovan stood stock-still, staring at something over his shoulder with such force that Lestrade spun around quickly on his heels to come face to face with Sherlock Holmes.

"What the hell Sherlock!"

The tall dark haired man ignored the surprise in the two officers. He only looked at Lestrade with the cold hard glare of his blue eyes.

"We have to go…"

Lestrade sighed but didn't let himself relax. Sherlock was supposed to be in hiding. If he wasn't then something very important pulled him out. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what.

"Go? Go where? Sherlock I'm in the middle of a crime scene here!" Lestrade leaned in a bit … "and you're not suppose to be here…"

Sally dropped her shocked look and adopted a confused one. She looked at the Inspector suspiciously at his lack of surprise at seeing the dead? Sherlock Holmes. She glanced around at the other officers who were taking interest at the sudden appearance of a dead man at their crime scene.

"Johns Missing…"

And there it was. The Good Reason… The "something important."

"He's… what?"

Finally Sherlock pulled out of his stone glare only to replace it with severe annoyance. "Missing! Must I have to repeat myself?"

Sally jumped a little at Sherlock's sudden outburst. Lestrade put his hands up in a silent surrender from the pale man's wrath.

"Ok…. Ok… How do you know he's missing?"

"He's not answering his phone." Sherlock squeezed the cell phone in his pocket as he spoke, silently willing it to ring.

"Sherlock… its midnight. He's probably sleeping!"

"No… he'd still answer…. And besides, I already checked the flat."

"What about with Sarah?"

"Checked there too…"

"Work late?"

Sherlock's face went rageful at the continuous questions with no action and Lestrade sighed.

"Look... I have an active crime scene… I can't walk away. Besides... I'm sure he's fine."

Sherlock didn't break eye contact with the Detective Inspector. The stare was almost uncomfortable. "Do you really believe that?"

Lestrade looked up into the sky and blew out a puff of air. "No…"

"Well… then…" Sherlock tipped his body sideways signaling that they should get going.

"It still doesn't help the fact that I'm needed here. Since when have you ever needed me anyways?"

Sherlock's face softened just a bit. It was hard for him to admit he needed help… but for the time being he'd have to suck it up. He truly needed some. "I'm not 100% even if I argue I'm fine. I hate admitting it but this is the work of Moriarty and I'm in no shape to take him down alone. And… if John's hurt… " Sherlock trailed off and stared off. Eyes darting around the crime scene a bit and then returned to Lestrade

Lestrade knew how hard it was for Sherlock to say those words out loud. He didn't press it any further. "So you think its Moriarty."

"Not think… know."

"Ok… why would he take John? Doesn't he believe your still dead?"

"Well if he did the secrets out now. " Donovan interjected but Sherlock ignored her as usual.

"I believe he took him on the street. John is prone to walks. I need to see traffic cams."

Lestrade looked confused. "Do you really think Moriarty would slip up enough to let a camera see him? And cant your brother get you this information?"

Sherlock gave him a piercing glare but didn't answer the last question. "I need to see the tapes"

Lestrade paused and looked around the crime scene. He couldn't leave… he wanted to help so badly but it just wasn't right for the boss to walk off.

Sherlock clearly saw the indecision in the other mans face and groaned openly.

"Fine…" The taller man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his magnifying glass, pulled his gloves off a swift finger at a time and walked over to the woman's body. Donovan followed, clearly not wanting to miss this. Sherlock moved slower then his normal speed and had a hard time crouching down when looking at the woman's neck through his glass. His eyes lifted to the dumpster, the balconies above, the distance to the street and the neighbor still giving a statement. His eyes lingered longer on the elderly neighbor before he turned back to Lestrade, pulling his gloves back on and shaking his head.

"No forced entry I assume."

"No…"

"Fiancé's out of town?"

This time Donovan answered.

"Yea… just received his full name and information. No answer on his cell. We're checking hotel's… his background…"

"No need. The neighbor did it."

"What?" Both Donovan and Lestrade said the word in unison.

"The murder weapon is a belt." Lestrade turned to look at the neighbor and caught a brown leather belt around he man's waist. "You'll find evidence on it."

"But... why?"

"Boyfriends out of town… the neighbor lives in the 4th floor flat. He's been watching her from above." Sherlock pointed up to the iron balconies above. "The victim comes out a lot to drink her coffee and he watches her from above. This isn't his first kill. I bet you'll find more then her DNA on that belt. Older… possibly 10-15 years ago. Open old cases involving strangulation while the boyfriend or husband is away. The neighbor always talks to the police… tries to help. I bet he even called in the body. You've got yourself a serial killer."

"How do you know…?"

"He's a good liar but his body language deceives him. Look we can go over It more after we find John. I promise I'll even help go through the old case files."

Lestrade looked at Sherlock for a moment. The man was actually desperate to find his friend that he would submit to the boring monotonous job of going through files.

"Donovan… the scene is yours. I have my cell."

"Yes sir."

"Well… let's go…"

Sherlock didn't need to be told twice and turned his thin, tall frame to lead the way to the car.

The smell hit him first. It was a rancid smell of charred plastic and chlorine. It stung the inside of his nose and made him sick to his stomach almost instantly. Finally he blinked his eyes open. His head swam with the overload of his senses and the still lingering effects of the chloroform. When his vision cleared enough, he lifted his head slightly. The sight that greeted him caused a choked gasp escape his throat.

"Oh! Look whose finally awake!"

The dazed man looked up at the figure looming over him and groaned openly as he recognized the blurry face above.

"My Dear Watson…" The blur snarled. "Welcome Back… to hell."