Hey guys! Long time no see… Sorry about that. First I wanted to talk a bit about last chapter. A few people mentioned that I wrote Sherlock out of character. Well… yes I did. I did it on purpose and there is a reason. Hopefully a part in this chapter will explain why he's not his usual self. I kinda thought it would be easy to spot as to a reason why. I put a few clues in about the change like Sarah's inward description of Sherlock in her apartment or his outburst at the crime scene that made Donovan jump. All not normal Sherlock.

Like they say... it's how the story goes lol

Anyways…

I'm sorry for the delay. I was a bit stuck and then lost interest with everything going on in my life. I hope I didn't lose anyone. Thank you for going on this Journey with me with my first Sherlock Fanfic. And I can't wait for the new season!

Steph

John growled in disgust at the sight that greeted him. As his vision started to clear, a piercing glare would have pinned him down if he hadn't already been tied up.

"You took an awfully long time to wake up Dr. Watson. Not sleeping well?"

John groaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the image of their friendly neighborhood psychopath. How did he get here? Oh right… someone grabbed him on the street when he wasn't on his guard. 'Great job John.' He berated himself in his head.

"Johnny…"

The Ex-Army Doctor tried to ignore Moriarty's voice. He kept his eyes closed to try and ease the throbbing pain in his skull. He let himself feel the rest of his body, taking in any other painful area or possible injured part. His hands were tied tightly behind the wooden chair he sat in. His legs were free but useless as the sedative still coursed through him. He could still taste it in his mouth and didn't fight the urge to try and spit it out.

A 'Snap' of fingers brought John's attention back to the crazy guy in a suit. He sat in another chair, leaning toward John. His head was turned sideways as he held a curious glare.

"You are a mess my dear Watson."

"Screw off." John's words came out raspy from lack of use and he grimaced slightly from the raw scratch it sent down his throat. John spat again to the side and made a face at the taste that wouldn't go away.

Moriarty didn't respond right away. He leaned back into his own chair with a Cheshire cat-like grin growing on his face. And just as quickly as it had formed, the smile melted and returned to a glowering scowl.

"I expected more from you John... I'm very disappointed."

John rolled his eyes but regretted it instantly as a sharp pain bolted through his brain. He couldn't help the hiss that escaped his body. Now he was taking to him like a father who caught his son sneaking in after curfew. "I don't give a rat's ass what you expect from me."

"Oh… but you will."

Moriarty voice and expression were stone cold. John just started at him, hoping his features wouldn't give off any sort of weakness. It was just what Moriarty was looking for.

"I'm going to make you pay for your failure John."

"My failure?" A laugh escaped his lips before he could help it. "It was your messed up mind that screwed it up for you." John's words were calm and straight forward but he knew it was enough to make the other man's blood boil. Therefore he wasn't completely surprised at what happened next.

Moriarty stood up with cat like speed and grabbed John's chin, forcing him to look up uncomfortably. Pain shot from his shoulders up the back of his neck from the swift movement.

"No! It was your fault and yours alone! I gave you all the proper information! It is not my fault you didn't use it wisely!"

John yanked his head out of Jim's cold hand, looking away from the angry face above him and trying not to show just how much that had hurt him. God he felt so helpless. "If you'd have just left us alone there wouldn't be a problem at all!" John could feel his cheeks turning red with anger and the effort to keep the pain off of his face. He was trying to stay calm but he just couldn't help it. Pain made you do drastic things.

"Well then what fun would that have been? Really John… what are you thinking?"

John Watson heard the changed tone in the madman's voice and looked back up again to see a calm smile. The scariest part about this situation wasn't the obvious reasons. It was the frightening jump of emotion from Jim Moriarty. He was hot and cold… Jekyll and Hyde. He'd have to work harder to stay calm and play things smoothly. Moriarty was riding a thin line. He didn't want him stepping too far over it.

"Silly me." John added in a low calm tone.

Moriarty stepped away and rubbed his chin in thought as he started to pace about the musty room. John followed him with his eyes. Even in this dirty environment the other man's suit looked cleaned and freshly pressed. Of course…

"So what do you think would be a more appropriate punishment? I've already strapped a bomb on you... Torture perhaps? That's always fun!"

John didn't say anything. He didn't want to give a reaction. He just watched the thoughts run through the well-dressed man's head. It was exhausting to keep up.

"No? Something else then… something more fun." Moriarty stopped a moment and after a few silent seconds he threw his hands in the air as if to say 'Eureka'. "I've got it... Maybe I should just frame you for a murder. Taint your name. Make you watch ME do it!" Moriarty hopped in place and clapped his hands like an excited child. "There it is! The perfect punishment!"

John didn't continue to follow the mad man in front of him with his eyes. He just stared forward, a pang of panic rushed through his veins causing his heart to beat hard in his chest. He knew Sherlock would figure out he was missing… but when? Would Moriarty actually have time to kill another innocent human being before Sherlock could find him? That scary thought alone caused his fear. The madman was right… This would be the worst torture he could do to him. No one should die because of John Watson. He just couldn't be the cause.

"I better go pick out the perfect target." Moriarty patted John on the shoulder. "In the meantime..." The wild-eyed man spun on his heels and turned toward the door. "Why don't you just relax?" And with that, Moriarty switched the lights off, plunging the dank room into darkness. A maddening laugh echoed off the tiled walls as the door shut behind him, leaving John alone with his thoughts… in pitch darkness.

Sherlock and Lestrade rode in silence back to Scotland Yard. The Detective Inspector was at the wheel as they went down the quiet city streets. Lestrade kept glancing over at the thin man next to him. He hadn't said a word since they got in the car. Sherlock's fingers skimmed madly over his cell phone, surfing certain facts, places, and anything else he could come up with that may help them find John. It was his original cell phone and Lestrade noted how excited he was as he pulled it from his inner coat pocket and turned it on. There was no sense hiding any longer and Sherlock hated the piece of crap flip phone he had been given.

Lestrade was use to Sherlock getting into long moments of silence when he was thinking deeply but right now, as he drove Mycroft's expensive car through the streets of London, he wanted some answers. His fingers tapped on the wheel as he drove on. He couldn't take the silence much longer.

"So… what do we have?"

Sherlock didn't answer, his fingers still worked hard on the phone keys.

"Sherlock…" he tried again.

"Hmm…"

"Find anything?"

"No."

"Oh."

The car was plunged into quiet again accept for the click of phone buttons. Lestrade shook his head. One word answers weren't going to do.

"Where do you think he took John?"

Lestrade was greeted with more clicking as Sherlock paused a moment, reading something on the screen of his phone.

"Somewhere obvious." He said finally.

"Does that mean you know where?"

"No."

Lestrade turned forward again and huffed.

"Well you are extremely helpful."

Sherlock didn't respond and the Detective Inspector didn't expect him to.

"So do you think he knows you're alive and took John to flush you out?"

"No."

The man sighed in frustration and gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. What was the point of being there to help when he had nothing to go on?

"Ok well what then? Speak up damn it! I'm here to help you and I don't even know where to start!"

Sherlock finally looked up from his phone at Lestrade's irritated tone.

"You are helping. Just keep driving."

"Great… now I'm a freakin taxi." Lestrade mumbled.

Sherlock finally put the phone down and sighed loudly, turning to the man behind the wheel.

"What would you like to know? I'm not certain of anything right now so what good would it do for me to give you false information."

"I would be happy with anything right now Sherlock. Help me help you." Lestrade put the right blinker on and turned. They were getting closer to Scotland Yard.

"No I don't think he knows I'm alive. He would have made it quite clear if he did. I think he took John out of anger. This is the mistake we've been waiting for."

"So kidnapping John was the moment we wanted?" Lestrade shook his head. "What a sick turn of events." He mumbled.

"It's unfortunate but it's our chance."

"I'm sure John is thinking differently about the situation."

Sherlock stopped talking and looked straight ahead down the narrow streets. Lestrade could see the twinkle of something in the corner of his eye for a moment and then as fast as it came, it was gone again. The hard stone stare was back in place. What that panic he saw? No… Not on Sherlock Holmes. Couldn't be.

"I want to see video of John's route home from work. It will answer a few important questions."

"Are you sure there will be anything on it?"

"There will hopefully be answers."

Lestrade didn't even bother asking for him to elaborate. He knew he wouldn't get anywhere. Sherlock didn't give answers unless he wanted to.

"Fine."

The Detective Inspector pulled into the lot to the Yard and parked the car with ease.

"Well then let's go."

Both men threw open their car door to exit. Lestrade was about 5 feet ahead when he noticed Sherlock was still at the car door. He hadn't heard it shut. Turning he found the younger man grasping the doorframe tightly, his eyes shut. Lestrade could see the hunch of his back as Sherlock wasn't standing to his full height.

"What's wrong…?"

Sherlock's eyes popped open and he looked around before backing up slowly and shutting the car door. He straightened himself up slowly and inhaled deeply before walking slowly but confidently in Lestrade's direction.

"Nothing. Let's get a move on."

Lestrade watched as Sherlock walked ahead toward the station doors and shook his head. Sherlock was right when he told him earlier he wasn't 100%. This was too much too soon for the dark haired man. He just hoped he could handle anything that came next. This situation would most likely get worse before it got better.

He was sure of that.

To say he was uncomfortable was an understatement. His hands were tied behind his back so tightly that every once in a while his fingers would tingle from poor circulation. His head was still throbbing behind his eyes from the drug and his back and shoulders ached.

At least he was left alone for now. He didn't even mind being in pitch darkness. It certainly helped his headache. Maybe Moriarty thought that was some way to weaken him but the madman must have forgotten that John was a soldier. He'd been in worse situations then this. Darkness didn't frighten him in the least. There was no reason to be scared of the dark… only at what is in it. And since the room had one door, he felt safe for now.

The idea of what Jim Moriarty was doing behind the door though was what scared him to the core. He knew what the man was capable of and the last thing John wanted was for someone else to get hurt or killed because of the three of them. John took a deep breath and shifted in his bounds. It was all up to Sherlock now. There was nothing he could do from here. Talking to Moriarty wasn't an option. His crazy mind was dangerous.

Since he couldn't see he tried instead to use his other sense to figure out where he could be. He could hear dripping noises somewhere close by. That could be any leaky pipe in the London Area. No help there. What did help was his nose. There was an unmistakable burnt smell accompanied with a very strong chemical smell. John knew it right away. It certainly narrowed down his options… But really? Here?

John was pulled from his thoughts when the door opened and the light was switched back on. John slammed his eyes shut and grimaced at the pain the sudden light caused his eyes and raging headache.

"Aww Johnny. Is the light too bright for you? So sorry!" There wasn't a hint of true apology in the man's giggling tone. Moriarty grabbed the chair placed in front of John and moved it closer, so close that when he plopped down into it their knees were touching.

John squinted against the light, making sure he tried keeping an eye on the psycho at all times… even if it hurt like hell. Moriarty leaned closer to John and held up a piece of paper with a picture on it.

"See this Johnny? This is the person you are going to kill!"

John's heart stopped as he looked at the paper in front of him. A picture of a young girl no more than 8 or 9 greeted his strained vision. She was sitting on a swing looking in the other direction of the camera with a bright smile on her face. The picture was taken behind some blurred leaves. A time stamp of two days ago rested at the bottom right of the picture.

"I had other plans for this little girl John. I was offered a large amount of money to kidnap her." Moriarty turned the picture back toward himself to look at the girl again. "Her father wanted to scare his soon to be ex-wife. Lovely family don't you think? My kind of people."

Moriarty paused a moment to stare at the photo, leaving John to examine his expression to try and figure him out.

"Well John… What do you think? She seems to be just the perfect amount of innocence and disaster huh?"

This time John couldn't help himself. "You are truly insane."

"Yes… but it keeps the creative juices flowing Doctor." Moriarty leaned back and slid the little girl's picture in his inside jacket pocket.

"If you kill her you won't get your money."

Moriarty laughed and the sound sent cold chills of anxiety up John's spine.

"Oh he didn't even have half of what he promised me. So I'll punish him for lying in the process! Everyone wins!"

John shook his head sadly. "Why…"

"Because it's fun, John. It's LOADS of fun! That is the only reason." Moriarty patted his jacket at the spot the picture was and stood up.

"And what about me? Is framing me for an innocent girl's death fun?" John would never understand the reasoning behind madness. It wasn't in his nature to think outside the box like Sherlock… Like Moriarty. To him it was straight forward. Hurting others was WRONG. The emotions he had tried to cover earlier were coming through in his tired expression.

Jim put his hands on the back of the chair he was just sitting in and leaned down a bit towards John. "It will be… right now it's all about revenge with you Dr. Watson. You killed my favorite toy."

"You are sick." John blurted out.

"And you are pathetic!"

John winced slightly and anger welled in his being at his sign of weakness again. He wasn't doing a very good job of hiding anything. "Maybe… but at least I can live with myself."

The crazy man above him 'hmm'd' and looked sideways out of his eyes. "Not for long."

Moriarty grinned evilly and reached back into his jacket pocket, pulling out the picture again. He placed it on the chair facing John, the little girl's angelic face looking up at John, before walking back to the door.

"I think I'll leave the light on this time… how's that?"

Moriarty left the room, locking the door behind him and leaving John to stare at the image of an innocent little girl about to be a part of this sick and twisted game.

Lestrade walked ahead briskly through the open office toward his own. Sherlock followed behind, hands in his pockets and facing forward, ignoring the glancing eyes and whispers. It was very early in the morning and there weren't a lot of people at their desks. But the ones that were there working the graveyard shift couldn't help but stare with their jaws on the floor as Sherlock breezed by like nothing had happened at all.

They were just across the way from his office when Lestrade pulled up and stopped fast to avoid a collision with someone coming around the corner.

Anderson looked up startled from the folder he was just immersed in, avoiding a run in with his boss. His mind had been elsewhere and he was admittedly still half asleep.

"Sorry boss…" The darker haired man mumbled in apology.

"No problem Anderson."

As the man looked back down at his file and continued to walk, another figure ended up in his way.

"Sorry", he mumbled again as he glanced up and back down at his file quickly. It didn't take more than a second for Anderson to lift his eyes back up again as his brain caught up with his senses.

Sherlock rolled his eyes slightly but made no attempt to step out of the other man's way. Anderson stopped completely in front of him… flabbergasted. He slowly closed the file in his hands and glanced over to his boss briefly for some sort of approval that what he was seeing was real.

Lestrade played it cool as he always did.

"You get called in?"

"Uh... yea..." The black haired man replied as he looked back at Sherlock. They stood only 3 feet from each other. The moment was very awkward.

"Another murder?"

"Not sure yet. Someone found a body by the docks." Anderson showed respect to his boss by turning to look him in the eye and answer but as soon as he finished his sentence he went back to looking at Sherlock with uneasy eyes.

Anderson couldn't help but stare and Sherlock stared right back before taking a deep breath and exhaling exasperatedly. He didn't have time for the whole "You're not dead" scenario. Lestrade picked up on it easily. No one needed this right now.

"Well excuse us Anderson. We have a pressing matter to get back to."

Anderson looked back at Lestrade and nodded. "Of course..." Then he stepped to the side and Sherlock's eyes followed his for a moment before turning forward again and moving to follow Lestrade into his office. The Detective inspector couldn't help but look back out into the bullpen to see if Anderson got his bearings back again. The man stood now... looking into space. He was probably wondering if he ever got out of bed tonight and if he was really standing there.

Sherlock plopped down behind Lestrade's desk and swiftly started scanning the video footage that was already left up on the desktop. He pushed the video forward with the mouse as his eyes scanned over critically.

"Are you alright?" The question was out of the blue as the Detective inspector shut the door to his office and drew the blinds to keep out the stares.

"Why would you think I am otherwise?" Sherlock's eyes never left the screen which made what Lestrade wanted to say much easier. He'd been thinking about starting this conversation the whole way over from the crime scene and after witnessing Sherlock falter at the car he couldn't hold his tongue any longer.

"Oh I dunno… maybe because you aren't acting yourself?"

Sherlock huffed as he continued scanning. "Did I not solve that case for you earlier? I would say that's acting within my parameters."

Lestrade sighed. For a smart man he was really dense. "That's not what I mean."

Sherlock flicked his eyes up briefly at the Detective Inspector. "Then say what you mean."

Lestrade plopped himself down in the chair on the other side of the desk. "Well… you lost your cool at the crime scene. It was out of character for you. You even made Sally jump from your attitude."

"Frustration is within my character."

"Yes but that was more than that… you are anxious. And then that spell you had at the car…" Sherlock didn't answer but Lestrade saw his shoulders tense slightly. He was going to leave it at that but he had something else to add. "People do care about you… just thought you should know that."

Sherlock paused a moment before flicking his eyes back up to Lestrade and then back down to the screen.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I think I know why you feel out of sorts. And I know YOU know."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and Lestrade again noticed how out of character it was for the dark haired man to show weakness or emotion willingly.

"How would you react if someone were willing to sacrifice themselves for your safety?"

Lestrade paused and bit his lip while thinking over his response. He hadn't actually thought he'd get this far in the conversation. The Detective Inspector figured it would be completely one sided. Another thing completely out of character for Sherlock Holmes. "Sherlock I'm a police officer… it's a brotherhood. We would do that for each other every day."

"OK. People do it for you. Not me. I am not a likeable person. People do not jump in front of bullets for me."

Lestrade frowned but he didn't know what to say. How can you tell someone who didn't connect with people purposely for fear of rejection or being hurt that people DO care? How was he to explain that to someone who tries to hide from everything human by throwing himself into his work to the point of exhaustion and starvation?

"People don't do that." Sherlock muttered to fill the awkward silence from Lestrade's deep thinking.

"Obviously they do." It's the only argument he had.

"I didn't ask him to grab Moriarty with his bomb jacket on to give me a chance at escape."

Lestrade had heard a run through of what happened from John and this part of the story stopped the doctor long enough for the Detective Inspector to develop a curiosity. The fact that John planned to give his life to save his friend had shocked the Ex-Army doctor to the core as well. But it wasn't about WHY he did it. Lestrade knew John understood why he would jump in to save another. It was because at that moment John realized that they WERE friends and that they needed each other to balance things out.

"You didn't have to. You're his friend."

Sherlock blinked hard. "I don't have friends."

"Well... now you do. And he's a pretty damn good one."

"I know." Lestrade watched Sherlock's hand on the mouse stop completely as his own words echoed through his head. Finally he shook himself off mentally. He had to figure this out. He had to find his friend before it was too late.

Now JOHN needed HIM.

And he would not let him down.

"Enough. I need to concentrate."

About 15 minutes went by and the two men sat in silence as Sherlock scanned the street cams on John's route home. He knew he'd find something… It was just a matter of when. He couldn't help but let his mind wonder back to John. It was his fault once again that John was in trouble. Why would anyone want to be friends with him if all he does is get them kidnapped or nearly killed? It made no sense to him. But John never left… he stayed with him in that less than stellar part of town in their extremely outdated apartment. He put up with odd behaviors, body parts in the fridge, late nights and dangerous situations.

And John Watson was still willing to risk his life to save him.

Sherlock's mind went back to a conversation he'd had with John about Heroes. He'd told him heroes didn't exist. He was adamant about it. But was he wrong? Hadn't he witnessed with his own eyes the definition of a hero?

Sherlock shook of his thoughts and worked on concentrating hard on the video in front of him. He was around about the time he estimated the kidnapping took place. He just had to find the right area.

And then… there it was.

"There... right there."

Sherlock was on his feet quicker than Lestrade thought he had in him and walked with long strides to the door.

Lestrade jumped up from his comfortable position in the other chair and leaned into the Computer monitor. "Where?" He asked, squinting at the monitor.

"What do you mean 'where'? It's as plain as day! It's so obvious now!" Sherlock opened the blinded door and peered out into the office space. "I have to call Mycroft. I'll be right back."

Sherlock made strong steps forward with purpose in the direction of the person he had been looking for, leaving Lestrade behind trying to see what he'd caught just off screen. It was Lestrade's own fault for closing the blinds. Now he should have just enough time.

Lestrade looked back down at the monitor and tried to see what Sherlock saw. Finally he grabbed the mouse and ran the feed back a smidge, then moved it forward slowly. It took him a couple minutes but there it was... and it was so small he wasn't sure how the other man saw it while moving through so quickly. A small shadow from the street lamp, first one man's shadow... then two... then a blur of shadow's... then nothing.

"He DID make a mistake! Hey... Sherlock!"

"Anderson..."

The poor man jumped in his boots at the voice calling his name. He spun around in his chair with big eyes as Sherlock Holmes approached his desk with purpose.

"Are you leaving?"

"Uhh..."

"Oh get over it already! Clearly I am standing here breathing. So we are moving on. When are you going to your crime scene?"

"I was just about to leave." The other man said with more strength in his voice now. He gathered up his file and stood up from his desk.

"I'm going with you..."

"You want to go with me?" Anderson held up the folder he was carrying. "To this?"

"No... I need transportation. You can drop me off. Now... you first." Sherlock signaled for the other man to continue on down the hallway with a wave of his arm.

"I... ok...?"

And with that Anderson moved at a swift pace to keep in front of a fast walking Sherlock toward the parking lot. The two men were already in the car before Lestrade could search the whole bullpen for Sherlock Holmes.

AN - Again i'm so sorry for taking so long. I have another chapter coming.. obviously... and possibly an epilogue. Hope you enjoyed reading! i've been nit picking at it for a while even though nothing major happens in it. lol