One Year Later

It was New Year's Eve and Sherlock was home at 221b Baker Street. He was composing a new song, something he hadn't done for ages. Soon John would be home and they would go and celebrate New Years with Mycroft. Not that Sherlock really wanted to, but John had convinced him that family was important. Sherlock sighed and smile slightly. John Watson. What have you done with me? He had been with John for little over a year now and it had changed so much and still it all was the same. They still worked with cases. They still lived at Baker Street and the flat still looked the same. The only difference is that now shared a bed. Mycroft was still in his way and nagging on his patience and his parents had been delighted to welcome John in to the family. At first he and John had been taking it slow and still after a year they didn't hold hands or kiss in public. They had stayed the same, but at the same time all had changed. He frowned. Never in his life he'd been able to think anyone would be able to love him, just the way he is. But John Watson did. Sherlock got interrupted in his thoughts with his phone buzzing. He put down his violin and bow down and checked his phone. There was one new message from a blocked number. He opened it:

16.17

"Holmes and Watson is sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

Sherlock read it again and frowned. Then his phone buzzed again.

16.19

"What is Holmes without his Watson?"

16.20

"Is Watson home yet? Isn't he late?"

This made Sherlock feel uncomfortable.

16.23

"You better check your inbox."

Sherlock rushed over to his computer and opened his email. Yes. There was a new mail, from an unknown address. He hurried to opened it. There was a video link. Sherlock opened it and saw a damp room. The room was lit up by candles only and it looked like there was a stage, build with wood. On the stage sat John tied up on a chair with a bag over his head. Sherlocks body went numb. What have happened to his John? Then he felt an anger running through him. I am gonna kill the one that ever hurt John Watson, Sherlock thought. He knew that he needed to save him, but his head was spinning and he couldn't focus. All he could see was the image on the screen with John tied to a chair. He was still moving, trying to escape the ropes. The image suddenly disappeared and then Sherlocks phone buzzed again.

16.34

"Will Holmes start the new year without his Watson? Only time will tell."

The phone buzzed again and on the screen there was now three clocks, Big Ben, the clock of St Paul's Cathedral and then a picture of Greenwich with a clock in the corner. All the clocks was ticking but in a different pace. Sherlock stared at the screen, trying to get this picture right. And then the phone buzzed again.

16.37

"Tick, tock - tick, tock."

Sherlocks head was spinning and he looked at the screen with the clocks again. There has to be something wrong with this picture, something he's missing. He looked at the times. Big Ben was set on Hong Kong hours, ticking second by second. Both Greenwich and St. Paul's behaved different. Greenwich seemed to rush faster than the other clocks, the minutes running too fast. St Paul's hacked back and forth, skipping between 16.02, 16.17, 16.32 and 16.47, and then it started over. Sherlock quickly searched on the web for events concerning Hong Kong in London this evening, there was 42 Hong Kong themed parties, 376 restaurants, which 78 was called Hong Kong, 38 themed stores and lots and lots more. Sherlock rushed through all the information, and in his mind he kept thinking - not important, not important, not important. He continued to Greenwich, that clock was almost at midnight now. There was a reported break in, a burglary and some cops in a fight with nazis. Not important, not important, not important. He kept on skipping the information. At St Paul's there was nothing suspicious and only a concert at midnight. Sherlock growled. He was frustrated and stressed. If he didn't solve this, what would happen to John? Who's taken him? A small voice in his head was telling him what he really didn't wanna hear. This looks like the work of Moriarty. But Moriarty is dead. Sherlock had seen him die. He shakes his head to get the thought out of his head. He must stay focused. What is he missing? What is wrong with this picture? He looked closely at the clocks again, which one is the right one. Suddenly he stopped. He looked more closely on the clock on st Paul's. It skipped 15 minutes at the time but it stopped and skipped back twice at 16.17. He had been so stressed that he didn't noticed it at first. It's brilliant, absolutely brilliant, and if Sherlock hadn't been so scared that something bad is gonna happen to John he would've been very impressed. 16.17 is the time he'd got the first text. This is the right one. He rushed up, grabbed his coat and ran out on Baker Street.

The cab had been driving so slow according to Sherlock. And when he arrived to St Paul's Cathedral the clock was almost half past six. He paid the cabbie and ran out. So now I'm here, Sherlock thought, but where can John be? He remembered the room where John had been tied up to the chair. The wooden stage. Lit up by candles. No windows. No door showing on the screen. He put his hands in front of his face. Where could that room be here? He was standing in front of the cathedral. Sherlock started to walk around the cathedral and searched for some place where John could be. And there wasn't much to go on.

- I did what you wanted me to! Where is he? Where is John? Sherlock shouted angrily.

People who were walking on the streets looked over their shoulder as they past him, others changed their way just to avoid the weird shouting man. Sherlock stood absolutely still just waiting when his phone buzzed again.

18.47

"Haven't Holmes solved this yet? It's all staring him in the eye."

The screen changed just as it had done last time. And this time twenty pictures of Johns face stared at Sherlock. Sherlock waited for the phone to buzz again, but it stayed silent. Sherlock sat down on the stairs behind him. He pulled his coat closer around him and then he took a closer on the pictures. One of these pictures of John is the right one. But which one and where will it lead him. On 13 pictures John looked serious, on two he was frowning and on five he was smiling. All was portraits. He was dressed similar on every picture but two, where he didn't have his jacket on. Sherlock could see that 12 of the pictures was from before they were together as a couple and 8 was from after. Sherlock looked at the backgrounds of the pictures. 6 was taking inside the flat, 3 outside on Baker Street, 4 was taken on different restaurants and the rest was too blurry to see the background. Sherlock quickly searched the web on each and every restaurant. But nothing suspicious or interesting about them. Not important Sherlock, you need to focus, he told himself. Looking at pictures of John knowing that he was in danger made him feel small and lonely. He put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes and then drew them up in his hair. He looked at the pictures again. But there wasn't any of them that looked misplaced or wrong in any way. They're was all on John, his John. His mouth, his cheeks, his nose and his eyes... Sherlock stopped in his thought. Eyes? What had the text said? "It's all staring him in he eye". Him. Eye. Sherlock quickly zoomed in on the pictures looking closely on Johns eyes. He scrolled fast picture by picture and when he came to the one where John was smiling sitting in his chair on Baker Street he stopped again. There was something in Johns right eye. He tried to zoom even more but that only blurred the picture. He squeezed his eyes and focused. And that's when he recognized it, the London Eye in Johns eye. Brilliant, Sherlock thought, brilliant. And then he ran down the stairs to catch a cab.