Hey everyone! Sorry about the huge gap between chapters here, I have been uber busy and I had the worst case of writers block ever. :( But I finally finished this chapter so...

ENJOY :D

Quick note: **the italics are Mycroft talking to them through the earpiece, NOT flashbacks this time :P**

"Evening fellas," Sherlock greeted the two armed men calmly as he stepped into the circle of light illuminating the door. As the two men fumbled with their weapons Greg pressed a finger to the communicator in his right ear, "Now Mycroft." Within seconds, the lights blinked out and Greg and Sherlock launched into action. Disoriented, the armed men stumbled around trying to find a light switch and in mere minutes Sherlock and Greg had knocked both out cold. As soon as the men hit the ground with a thump the lights flicked back on, once again illuminating the door.

"There are two other guards around the corner but they don't seem to have noticed anything," Mycroft said to both Sherlock and Greg through the earpiece. "The key to the door should be on the belt of the man to your right, Sherlock."

Sherlock bent down next to the unconscious man and grabbed the key and his gun. "Do you have access to the security cameras inside?" Sherlock whispered into his earpiece.

"Yes, but there are not enough of them for me to give you an accurate layout of the whole complex. I can't seem to locate John on any of them either."

"Shit." Greg cursed under his breath; they had been counting on that.

Sherlock gave him a sideways glance, "If I know John, he hasn't been sitting idle for the past three days. He will have a plan of his own by now, so he will likely be on the move. We'll see him on one of the cameras eventually."

Greg looked at him, momentarily shocked. He wondered how Sherlock could sound so confident. "Right. Well keep an eye out then Mycroft. Is the other side of the door clear?"

"As far as I can tell, yes. For now at least," Mycroft responded.

"Then let's not waste any more time." Sherlock said as he went up to the rusty metal door and inserted the key into the lock. After a moment, the door creaked open and Sherlock and Greg slipped inside, quietly closing the door after them, and dropped into a crouch. They were in a short hallway that went straight for a few yards then dead ended at another hallway running horizontal to it. The two men covered their mouths with their hands to try to stifle the sound of their breathing. Sherlock's eyes filtered around them, noticing everything, when he saw the camera in the corner opposite of them. He waved at it and shrugged his shoulders.

Mycroft immediately responded, "The hallway is empty, but there is a woman walking down the next hallway to your right. She doesn't look armed but is carrying some small wood planks and pieces of cloth for some peculiar reason. There aren't any cameras in the hallway to your left so I don't know what's over there, be cautious."

Sherlock nodded at the camera as Greg and him got up, walked to the corner, and peered around the edge to the left. There was no one in sight.

"This is too easy. Something's wrong." Greg whispered nervously to Sherlock as they cautiously walked down the abandoned hallway. The fact that something was wrong wasn't what worried him; it was that he couldn't figure out what it was.

"I know. I knew something was wrong as soon as the door opened and no alarm went off." Sherlock whispered back.

Greg rolled his eyes, "You always have to know everything don't you?"

"Both of you be quiet!" Mycroft hissed irritably before his younger brother could make a comeback, "Sherlock, just this once try to stop being an insufferable know-it-all so that you two don't get caught."

"I can't just stop," Sherlock snapped back. "I can't help it that I'm smarter than both of you combined."

"Fine," Mycroft said through his teeth, "then do it for John."

That shut him up. Sherlock glanced up at another camera as they passed it. "Alright, fine. For John." He huffed in defeat.

Greg's eyes widened at that. He shot the detective a questioning glance as they slipped around another corner.

Sherlock saw his stare and raised his eyebrows at him, "Something on your mind Lestrade?" He asked in a mocking tone, "Or are you just confused, as usual."

Greg narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head. No, there was no way that this cynical, rude, arrogant man was capable if that.

As they reached another corner Mycroft spoke up again, "Now I don't have any kind of visual down this next hallway so tread with care."

"Yes, thanks mother." Sherlock sarcastically as they slowly inched closer to the edge, keeping their backs pressed up against the wall as they did. Right as Sherlock was about to peer around the edge, a small squad of guards rounded the corner. Sherlock and Greg froze. For an instant, the guards were too busy chatting amongst themselves to take any notice of the two intruders, but soon they were all fumbling for their weapons and yelling at them to halt.

Sherlock looked at Greg. "RUN!" He screamed and the pair sprinted back the way they came, leaving an angry mob of armed men and a wailing alarm in their wake.

John was limping down the hallway, leaning on Sylvia, when the alarm went off.

"Oh shit, someone must have seen us go." John growled through his teeth, his leg was hurting considerably more than he had thought it would.

"Quick, in here," Sylvia whispered as she slipped into a small room to their left. He quickly flowed suit and closed the door softly behind him, leaving it open just a crack so they could see what was going on out in the hall.

John groaned and leaned against the wall. Damn this leg. Glancing down at it he fiddled with some of the straps of cloth Sylvia had gotten for him and attempted to make them fit tighter around the make-shift splint made of broken pieces of wood, without much success. He sighed and leaned his back against the cool wall; this continuous wailing was starting to give him a headache.

"You know," Sylvia started with her face pressed up to the crack in the door, "I don't think that alarm was for us."

John opened his eyes and gave her a surprised glance. "What makes you say that?"

"Well it's just that if the alarm was set off because someone saw us escape, then some guards should have been sent down the fetch us by now. This corridor seems completely deserted to me, so someone else must have triggered the alarm." She said in a rush. "What are you smiling for?" She added when she noticed the lopsided grin that had crept onto John's features.

"Oh its nothing," he responded with amusement, letting the smile slide off his face. "You just reminded me of someone when you did that deduction."

"Who?" She asked, curious.

John remained silent. If he started talking about Sherlock now he would definitely break down.

"It's Sherlock, isn't it?" Sylvia asked softly, in a slightly crestfallen tone.

John's head whipped around to face her. "How did you know that? I never told you about him." His voice had gotten dangerously soft.

Sylvia was slightly taken aback. Him? Sherlock was a man? I guess I just assumed, she thought, because he was whispering his name in his sleep that it must have been a girlfriend of his or something…

"Well? How did you know?" John asked impatiently. He did not like this one bit, how could she possibly know about Sherlock? And how much else did she know…

"I-," she stammered, "you were- well you were talking in your sleep... When you were unconscious." A hot flush had crept up and warmed her cheeks.

John blanched, "Oh… What-" he cleared his throat, "what else did you hear?..."

She shook her head, "Nothing. You just kept murmuring 'Sherlock' over and over again. Who is he?"

Relief flowed into John. He hadn't let it slip that he loved him then, good. "He's my… friend… My best friend." He turned his head away; she couldn't see him cry, not now, not ever.

"I think someone's coming." She whispered to him, trying to change the subject.

John wiped the back of his hand across his tear-stained face and turned to look through the crack in the doorway, avoiding all eye contact with Sylvia. He could just make out the sound of thundering footsteps quickly approaching nearer. The peculiar pair pressed their eyes right up against the door frame and watched as two lanky men came sprinting down the hallway and ran right past their temporary hideout. John's jaw dropped as he recognized his partner in crime and Greg Lestrade and it dropped even farther when the group of about twenty armed guards sprinted after them.

"SHER-" he began to scream after the detective when Sylvia's hand shot up and clamped over his mouth. He ripped her hand away in a fury and shouted, "SHERLOCK!"

It was too late though; his friends and the guards had already made it down the rest of the hallway and turned a corner, putting them out of earshot.

John rounded on Sylvia and glared at her, "You just ruined my one chance to let my best friend who thinks I'm dead know I'm alive, so if I were you I would keep your distance." He growled at her, his hands curled into fists. He knew why she did it; it was the smart thing to do. If he had yelled and gotten Sherlock's attention then the guards would have simply captured all of them and all hope of rescue would have been lost. Even knowing that it still tore his heart apart knowing Sherlock had been so close and yet he couldn't let him know he was there. This is what it must have felt like when Sherlock had to hide from me, he thought, and he felt a rush of sympathy and awe towards the man, he never could have been that strong.

A moment of tense silence followed John's outburst. "We should see where they are headed," John said finally. Sylvia nodded, obviously rattled by John's scolding and he put a hand on her shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry. You couldn't have possibly known that Sherlock thinks I'm dead. It was the right thing to do to cover my mouth and I'm sorry I lashed out at you. I'm just pretty wound up right now, OK?"

She nodded at him and looked at him with understanding; she knew exactly how he felt. "Right, let's go then."

They checked one more time to make sure no one was out in the hallway before they slipped out from behind the door and walked to the corner where Sherlock and Lestrade had disappeared around. They peered around the edge, there was no one there.

"God they are quick," Sylvia muttered before straightening up.

"They sure are, but thank God you two aren't," said a rough voice behind them. The pair froze as the each felt a barrel of a gun press up against the small of their backs. John knew that voice, he would never be able to forget it, but it was Sylvia that spoke first. She turned around and faced the cruel smiling tan face of their captor.

"Hello Grin."

Yup, Grin's back for more! I think this story is going to come to an end soon, only a few more chapters left I think... Anyway tell me if you liked it and please please please leave a review telling me what you thought :)

I'll

Catch...

You...

Later...