Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

AN: Hm…added my own twist to this…enjoying it so far…thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Chapter 3:

Sherlock sighed as he knocked, and a man, around average age, slightly round, answered the door. 'Sherlock Holmes.'

Sherlock nodded, handing him his hat. 'Here.'

'Thanks for holding onto that.' The man turned. As he entered what he thought was a study, he noticed many trains all around. 'Mr. Holmes, I like trains.'

Sherlock nodded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 'I can see that.' Irene had been trying to coach his patience, but it was hard. Thankfully, it seemed to be paying off. The sentence wasn't said as blunt as he would have before.

'I work at the tube, and part of my job is to wipe the security footage after it's been checked.' He sat down at a chair, and faced a computer screen. Sherlock looked on from behind the man. 'And I found something a bit bizarre. Watch.'

A lone man stepped into a carriage. 'This man steps into the last train at Westminster and,' he pointed at another screen as the train arrived. 'arrives at St. James' Park Station. And now, he is nowhere to be seen. There is absolutely no where he could go. No maintenance tunnels, nothing.'

'He couldn't jump out?' Sherlock confirmed. The man nodded.

'There is a security mechanism that prevents the doors from opening when the train is moving. A man gets in, and then disappears in the next station. Explain that, Mr. Holmes.'

Sherlock smirked, thrilled by the chance of a new case, and nodded, before turning to leave. 'Be ready for any questions I will ask you later on.'

The man nodded, slightly bewildered, before he heard the front door slam shut.

Mary walked along, smiling. Her phone beeped, and she took it out, seeing a text.

Save souls now! John or James Watson?

She frowned, and opened another text.

Saint or Sinner? James or John? The more is Less?

Figuring it out, her eyes widened, and she started to run, trying desperately to find a cab. She finally caught one, and, flushed, shot out her destination to the taxi driver. '221B Baker Street!'

Irene frowned, looking up as Sherlock entered, carrying a packet of fish and chips. She smiled slightly, before Sherlock frowned at her, noticing her anxiety.

'What's wrong?'

'Nero's gone.'

Sherlock froze. 'What do you mean?'

Irene looked at him worriedly. 'Mrs. Hudson brought him back, and he was playing downstairs, where Mrs. Hudson could see him. I just found out. Mrs. Hudson was unconscious but okay. But Nero's gone. I went out and searched for an hour, before coming back to check up on Mrs. Hudson.'

Both turned as they heard a knock on the door. Sherlock rushed down, Irene not too far behind him. 'Mary?' Sherlock asked, opening the door for her. Mary instantly showed him her phone.

'Someone sent me this. At first, I thought it was this Bible thing, you know, spam, but it's not. It's a skip code.' Irene bent over, while Sherlock frowned at Mary, before looking at the screen.

'Save John Watson. First every word, and then every third.' Irene looked at it.

'Save John Watson...now!' Sherlock looked up, eyes wide in panic. Irene heard her phone ping, and pulled it out of her pocket, before freezing in pure terror.

'Nero!'

'Who?' Mary asked, confused.

'Our son!' Irene shoved past them, and ran out onto the street, with Sherlock and Mary close behind. Sherlock pulled Irene back right before a car zoomed by at high speed. Looking around, Sherlock's eyes fell on two motorcycles.

'You know how to ride a motorcycle, don't you, Irene?' Irene saw where he was looking, and nodded. Both ran over, with Mary following Sherlock, panic grabbing hold of her.

John groaned as he tried to remember what had happened. Someone had injected something into him, and he looked around. It was dark.

He could faintly hear screams of enjoyment from outside, and felt the blood tricking down his face.

Trying to regain his senses, he realised that he was partly paralysed.

Panic seized him as he heard someone from the outside speaking. 'This isn't going to light up. Get us some oil!'

They moved quickly, Mary clinging onto Sherlock tightly, and Irene right behind Sherlock's motorcycle. 'Where're we going?'

'St. James the Less. It's a church!' Sherlock yelled back.

'What are they going to do to them?!' Mary asked once more.

'I don't know!' Was her answer as Irene started to go faster. They moved quickly, with Mary still trying to make sure she didn't fall off, yet having complete faith in Sherlock because of John's blog. Irene was visibly pale in the darkness.

They continued on, a motorcycle being easier to maneuver in this emergency. They turned into a parking lot near a tube station, ignoring the policeman who shouted at them.

'Oi! You can't go there!'

Sherlock and Irene ignored the policeman, and went down the stairs, going on a straight path. Sherlock was having trouble breathing properly. If anything happened to Nero because of him...

Irene was feeling the same way as a mother, and the terror was nearly choking her. She followed Sherlock numbly, glad of his knowledge of London to get to the church quickly.

John groaned as he tried to move, finding out that the thing was starting to wear off, and he was slowly able to move. He let out a moan, and tried to speak, but found no word would come out of his mouth.

He tried to turn his head, and though it was painful, he soon realised that he was looking into glasz eyes.

Zoë looked at the bonfire, having a bad feeling. For some reason, she knew that they shouldn't do this, and turned to her father. 'Daddy, the Guy doesn't like it.' But her dad shoved her off.

'Stay back, Zoë.'

When he lit the fire, a muffled yell came from the inside.

Her father tried to cover her away as another yell came from inside.

Zoë screamed.

John let out another muffled yell as he realised the pale skin belonging to a child, lying next to him. God. A child. What kind of sick person or people would do this to a mere child?

No more than a year old too, looking absolutely terrified. He tried to move his mouth, but found that he was unable to.

They stopped at where a huge bonfire was burning, and Irene screamed in despair, following as Sherlock shoved past the crowd, not caring about anything except the bonfire.

Mary followed, only to be outpaced by Irene as she pushed past people, even knocking people down.

Sherlock shifted some pieces of wood away, not caring how the fire was starting to singe his bare hands. Irene, having already been wearing gloves, followed suit, with Mary also helping out, the crowd watching in barely concealed horror.

As they shifted another piece of wood, a young child crying got their attention.

Irene began her search more frantically. 'Nero! Nero!' The crying got louder. Sherlock finally shifted a thick piece of wood away, where there revealed a small compartment. He dragged someone out, revealed to be John, and Mary dragged him a safe distance from the fire, glancing anxiously at him and then back at the fire.

Sherlock was still going through the bonfire. Irene was right next to him, calling out Nero's name. As the crying got clearer, Sherlock lunged forward, and grabbed Nero, scooping him safely out of reach and moving away, pulling Irene with him as the wood collapsed, having needed the strong support that Sherlock, Irene and Mary had removed in their frantic look.

Irene grabbed Nero from Sherlock, and gently shook him, gesturing for Sherlock to look at John. After a moment's hesitation, looking at Nero, Sherlock turned to John. 'John.'

John groaned, and Mary laughed in relief, with Irene smiling as she gently rocked the terrified child to sleep.