Hello hello hello! It is that time of day (well, night in my case) again! Here lies chapter 8 of the story.

A very big thank you to Reiterin and Reviewer for.. well.. reviewing. Also, thanks to everyone who followed!
As usual, I don't own _ (insert BBC's Sherlock here)
On with the show! (Also, this chapter jumps around between Molly and Lestrade and John and Sherlock.)

Molly and Lestrade sat on the couch, waiting for the arrival of more of Scotland Yard's finest. They had been sitting, in silence, for the last ten minutes, waiting. Thinking. Contemplating. Praying. Hoping, just hoping that the doorbell would ring and that Sherlock and John would walk through the door, unchanged for their experience. But, much to their chagrin, both of them knew that the chances of that would be very, very slim. Mrs Hudson's voice cut through both of their thoughts, causing them to jump simultaneously.

"Your lot's come, Detective Inspector."

Lestrade shook himself from his dream and stood up to go and meet the multiple police cars out the front of 221 Baker Street. There was a lot that they had to catch up on.

Mrs Hudson went to the couch and gently took Molly's hand in her own. "Don't you worry, dear, Sherlock's as hard as they come. He'll be fine, have a little faith. You know how stubborn and annoying he can be. Heck, I'd be surprised if he doesn't turn up by the end of today." Molly said nothing, but grabbed Mrs Hudson's hand tighter, and gently leaned against the old lady. Mrs Hudson pulled Molly into an embrace, letting Molly's tears drip silently down her shoulder.

Meanwhile...

John jolted in his chair, realising that he had nodded off, for an unknown amount of time. He had been sitting impassively in his chair (not that he had a choice) watching Sherlock. After fifteen minutes of complete inactivity, John started looking around. He wondered what Sherlock would do, stuck in a position like this. That's when he started looking around, squinting in the dim light to try to find any useful objects or clues. Any way to get the both of them out of there. Frustrated at the lack of useful materials, he pulled against his restraints for the umpteenth time that day. And that's when he noticed the smallest little piece of metal flaking off the chair. And that was when he knew he had a plan.

"Alright, thanks guys."

Lestrade sighed as he closed his notepad. He'd started carrying it around after he started working with Sherlock. There had not been much evidence as to who these people were. They had found the van ditched two miles away from the house, so there were no leads there. There had been no more witnesses, as the cafe downstairs was closed for Christmas. So they were stuck there too. Lestrade rubbed his temples in frustration trying in vain to ease the strain on his forehead. Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone, walked up to Sherlock's flat, and called Sherlock's phone. After locating it, he opened up the contacts, scanning for contact details of the man who held his only hope of finding Sherlock Holmes and John Watson: Mycroft Holmes.

John had been trying for the last quarter of an hour to reach the little piece of metal next to his thigh. So focused on his task was he that he didn't notice Sherlock stir and wake up, forced to by the pain erupting through his shoulders. Sherlock grabbed John's attention.

"Ummm... don't keep doing that... people might talk."

What did you think? Sherlock just flipped the "People might talk" line right on its head!
Please review, I only just got the 2 reviews I was after (picky, aren't I?) but I decided that I'd like to receive as many reviews as humanly possible, it'd be nice if I could get, oh, maybe 20 (shock horror!) in the next couple of chapters, that'd be nice. Please do make yourself known, I'd love to be able to be spammed by reviews!
Thanks for reading!
Kimbee