As the minute slowly passed by Sherlock grew more and more anxious by the second. His restless pacing hadn't stopped since Mycroft's call. Sherlock checked his mobile phone again, although it wasn't switched to silence, just to make sure that he hadn't missed any calls. No missed calls. He with a shaky hand through his dark curls and cursed silently.

He had to do something! But what? Sherlock had no clues. It was his fault that John wasn't here with him right now. If Sherlock hadn't used John's tea pot for his experiment than there would've been no argument and John wouldn't have left the flat. It was no use to blame himself no, Sherlock knew that. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about the disappointed look on John's face. The way he had walked out of the door, without turning back to Sherlock even once.

There had to be something he could work with. The abductor was surely after him, not John. Maybe it was a mistake that they had taken John. No, probably not. They were professionals. They had completely destroyed John's mobile phone. What did they want?

Sherlock stopped mid-step as a horrible ideas crossed his mind. What if they wanted to take revenge on him? They would hurt and torture his John, eventually even kill him. Sherlock shuddered at this thought. The thought of losing John forever was just too dreadful. No, that couldn't happen. Maybe they wanted something from him? The consulting detective resumed his pacing, but no nothing came to his mind. If the abductors wanted something then they would send a message of some sort.

What should he do until then? He had to do something. Anything! Sherlock scolded himself. He had to think things through calmly. Like he usually did in all the other cases. It wasn't of any help if he let his emotions get the better of him. But this wasn't any other case. This was about John. His John. His only friend. The first and only person Sherlock felt so comfortable and completed with. Sherlock sight in frustration and went through his already tousled hair once again.

He could hear the voice of Mycroft 'Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock'. His brother was right, but Sherlock couldn't help himself. He cared about John. More than he ever thought he'd care about someone. For a short moment, Sherlock considered to cauterize this feeling. There was still a small amount of his once favourite drug hidden in his bedroom. Sherlock hadn't used it for a long time. No, the chances that it would obfuscate his mind were too high. He had to use something less dangerous.

Sherlock went to fetch his nicotine patches and stuck four of them on his right forearm. The nicotine went through his body almost immediately, numbed it. He laid down on the couch and brought his hands up to his chin, taking up his usual thinking pose.

Ignoring the not so slight chance that the people that had kidnapped John wanted revenge, Sherlock started to think through all the possibilities. Where there any cases he hadn't solved yet? No. So these people didn't want Sherlock to stop working on a case. That meant they wanted something from him. Sherlock didn't know what it was yet, but they would surely leave a message for him.

It was likely that they observed the flat, but if Mycroft's men hadn't noticed anything than it was no use to look into that any further. Sherlock closed his eyes to keep all the unnecessary information out of his mind. The arm chair where John had sat the previous evening. There was still a small stain on the fabric from John's trousers. John had walk through the rain quickly and had stepped into a puddle. The laptop that stood on their table. It wasn't closed and turned on standby. John had wanted to write something, about one of their closed cases, Sherlock presumed, but didn't get to finish it because Sherlock had disturbed him.

Two hours had passed since John had gone missing. No call from the abductors yet. What was taking them so long to call and demand what they want? Did they already leave a message for him? Leave a message for him somewhere. Sherlock eyes popped open and he stood up from the couch in a swift motion. Why didn't he think of that sooner?! He dialed Mycroft's number and waited for his brother to pick up.

"Mycroft, where is the last location of John's phone?" Sherlock listened intensely as Mycroft told him the exact location. He practically ran out of the flat, grabbing his coat and scarf when passing by and hailed a cab.

The driver stopped. Sherlock paid the driver and flung the door open. He looked around. His heart started the beat faster and faster. He hoped that his deduction wasn't wrong. Sherlock couldn't stand the idea to wait any longer for a call or something to happen. Unable to do anything until then.

There was John's mobile phone, smashed to pieces on the pavement. Sherlock ran up to it and picked it up. His breath caught in his throat as he turned it around to look at the gravure. Only the name Harry was visible, but that was enough. So, where was the message? Sherlock studied the phone thoroughly. Nothing. He looked around again until he spotted a lamp with a note on it.

It was filled with numbers.

7 11 2 61/ 41 61/ 19 47 37 41 11 67/ 23/ 2 41/ 67 73 61 11/ 71 19 23 67/ 37 23 71 71 37 11/ 61 23 7 7 37 11/ 23 67/ 41 47 61 11/ 71 19 2 43/ 11 2 67 97/ 13 47 61/ 97 47 79/ 71 47/ 67 47 37 79 11/ 3 79 71/ 37 11 71/ 73 67/ 67 71 2 61 71/ 11 2 67 97/ 71 19 11/ 43 11 89 71/ 41 11 67 67 2 17 11/ 83 23 37 37/ 3 11/ 23 43/ 97 47 73 61/ 37 2 43 7 37 2 7 23 11 67/ 41 2 23 37/ 71 19 11/ 7 47 5 71 47 61/ 23 67/ 2 37 23 79 11/ 2 67/ 37 47 43 17/ 2 67/ 97 47 73/ 7 47/ 2 67/ 23/ 67 2 97/

IS ANYONE OUT THERE WHO WILL SOLVE THIS LITTLE RIDDLE? XD Come on guys, try and solve it! IT's easy peasy once you notice what all these numbers have in common.

Should I only post the next chapter when someone solves it? Could I be this mean? Hmmm...

I hope you enjoyed it!

See you next chapter XD