Sherlock opened his eyes and sat up. He had dreamed of her again. He closed his eyes and sighed. It had to stop. The dreams had to stop. He opened his eyes and glanced around the dirty tunnels. He had been living underground with his homeless network for the past three weeks. He had exhausted his funds and having nowhere else to go, living on the streets was his only option. He felt his left hand twitch as he blinked his eyes, his body's need growing for another fix. He had been using again, he had to. Otherwise the dreams would keep coming. He managed to keep them at bay only when on a binge. He sighed knowing he had used his last of his supply the day before and that getting more would be incredibly hard with no cash. He heard his phone buzz-his heart rose as it always did when he heard it buzz, the possibility of her was always lurking in the back of his mind. He glanced at the text.

"If you want to see your pretty, little girlfriend again. Come to this address. -SM"

Sherlock read the address, frowning. Was it a trap? He wasn't sure. But he knew he would never take the chance in case it wasn't He would lay down his life for hers. He knew that.

It had been three weeks since that fateful day. The day that Irene Adler had lost everything. She opened her eyes and blinked against the light with a groan. Her head felt like it had been split in two and she reached for the sunglasses she always kept beside the bed, knocking empty scotch bottles to the floor in the process. She swore and lay back down, closing her eyes again. She turned over onto her tear-stained pillow. A pillow that had once smelt like Sherlock, now just smelt of liquor. Tears slid down her face yet again.

Sherlock stood up and quickly texted a response,

"Don't you dare touch her. I'll be there soon. SH"

He wiped himself off as best he could before heading to the address with a heavy heart and anxious mind.

After a few moments, Irene slid out of bed. She had been wallowing for too long. She couldn't go on like this. She stumbled to the bathroom, her head pulsing. She filled a glass of water and rinsed her mouth out, before pulling off her sunglasses and frowned at her reflection. She looked terrible. Drained of life.

She splashed some water on her face, hoping to sober herself up. It worked slightly. However when she was sober, the pain came back. She closed her eyes against the waves of emotions and slid to the bathroom floor. "God, I'm pathetic." She muttered to herself.

As Sherlock made his way to meet the infamous Moran his mind couldn't help but settle on her. His mind reviewed the days they had spent together on the run. He recalled that first awkward dinner they had shared. How tense and uncomfortable he had been, especially when she had kissed him. But God what a lovely first kiss, he decided in retrospect. He sighed and closed his eyes as his thoughts turned to that fateful first night of lovemaking. He felt his eyes well and kicked the ground with his foot hard. He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair, willing himself not to get emotional and swallowing all thoughts of their past down.

Sherlock approached the abandoned warehouse, tentative and cautious. He pulled out his phone.

"Where are you? SH"

"Walk in and you'll find us. Hurry, I don't think she has long left. She was crying your name before. -SM"

Sherlock put his phone in his pocket before sprinting inside. He looked around, wildly, like an animal defending its young. "Moran!?" He screamed. "Where is she?!" He wiped around on his heels, his eyes scanning the catwalks and exterior rooms of the warehouse.

A solitary figure stepped out of the shadows, laughing. "You are so easily manipulated, Holmes. Really, it's almost boring how easy you've become. Getting you here was much more elementary than I anticipated. I'm glad dear Jim isn't here to waste his time on you. He really did you in, didn't he? Your darling Irene is safely back at the hotel, drinking herself into a stupor." He paused a moment enjoying Sherlock's beginning reaction, before adding, "Your brother's right, caring is a disadvantage."

Sherlock closed his eyes in humiliation and stupidity. He should have known better. Still, he knew he would have come no matter what. If she was mentioned in any way or form, he would have come.

He opened his eyes and turned around to face the mysterious man, "Who are you?" He asked, lowly.

"Sebastian Moran. Jim Moriarty's right hand man. Well I was, until he decided to kill himself like the selfish prick he was." Moran sighed. "Still, I only have you to blame for that." His eyes glinted with malice and hatred.

"What do you want with me?" Sherlock asked, though he knew the answer.

"I want you dead, but then again, you already knew that." Moran smirked before pulling out a gun. "However, I made a promise to your girlfriend that I just have to keep." Moran stepped over to Sherlock and quickly pistol whipped him across the face, knocking him out. He pulled him over to a chair and tied him up, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Irene.

"I have your darling prince, Miss Adler. SM"

Irene heard her phone buzz and her eyes widened. she couldn't help the hope that bubbled up in her stomach as she stumbled up to find her phone, scrabbling until she had the text called up. Her stomach dropped and she had to fight a sudden wave of nausea.
"What do you want? I'll do anything. -IA" She sent quickly, her hands shaking.

"I want you to come rescue him. Or at least, watch you try. SM"

Irene wished she could go back to the way she was. Only caring about her self preservation. After seeing a text like this she should flee the country. Escape. Hide. But how could she? How could she, knowing that it was Sherlock in danger...The man she loved. She gulped and splashed more water on her face, regretting her endless binge drinking the night before. She dashed into the main room and pulled on the first clothes she came into contact with. She then dashed out of the hotel. "Where are you? IA"

He texted her the address, "Hurry. SM"