Chapter 5- Sherlock

"Oh, sh*t." Celia hissed.

I turned around in my seat to look out the back window. Sure enough, a black van with tinted windows was tailing us. It wasn't right behind us, but was close enough for its occupants to have a good view of us. Every time there was an opportunity to turn, the other car would wait for Celia to switch on the blinkers before they did the same, echoing our movements. Yes, they were definitely following us.

Celia glanced sharply at me, running through a red traffic light in the process. "Who the h*ll is that?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't really matter." I was starting to recognize buildings that we flew by. We were back in London. I could use this to our advantage; I knew the city- but, then again, the people following us might know it, too.

Celia's hands were tight on the steering wheel, her knuckles white from the force of her grip. "Probably just someone who's tying up loose ends, then."

Whoever it was, they weren't stupid. Celia tried several different tactics to try to throw them off, to no avail. Finally, muttering a stream of profanities under her breath, she slammed her foot into the gas, whip the car to the left more quickly than I'd thought possible. It was a sharp turn, to say the least, and one our pursuers couldn't have seen coming. Celia sped on down the road until it branched to the side. Another nerve-jarring jerk of the wheel and too late we both realized that we were now hurtling straight toward a roadblock. Celia applied the brakes with more force than necessary. We skidded to a stop on two wheels, almost flipping the car.

Celia breathed heavily beside me. "Do you think we lost them?"

I was busy looking out the window for any sign of the black van. I didn't see anything, but it was still too early to let down my guard. "It looks like it, but I wouldn't count on-"

And then I saw the same dark van pull up smoothly next to us, cutting off the only exit. A lone man got out of the back seat.

"Mycroft!" I shouted, honestly shocked to see him. "What the h*ll are you doing here?" Quickly getting out of the car, I strode up to him, Celia following somewhat warily behind.

"I could easily ask you the same question." My brother retorted, staring at me with an odd expression. "Of all people, Sherlock, I would have thought you the least susceptible to Stockholm Syndrome." He snapped his fingers at Celia, who stopped in her tracks, a few feet behind me. "Don't take another step unless you want to die."

"You think Celia kidnapped me?" I laughed drily. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Yes, I think we do." Mycroft never took his eyes off Celia, even as he addressed me. "If she didn't abduct you, then who did?"

"My sister," answered Celia in a dull, matter-of-fact tone. "She's dead."

Mycroft looked at me for confirmation.

I nodded. "Moran killed her."

Mycroft pursed his lips. "As interesting as I'm sure this conversation will turn out to be, I think it'd be more appropriate if we took this somewhere more private."

He had a point. People were starting to stare. Celia and I were casually chatting with the very person who, after chasing us, had caused Celia to nearly roll her car. It must have been a very remarkable scene.

"You're right. Let's go." I replied.

"Both of you can ride with me, then. It'll be easier." He glanced at Celia. "I'll have someone pick up your car later."

He said it was because it simply easier that we all ended up in the same car, but Mycroft made it obvious that, in actuality, he didn't trust her.

I didn't have to ask where we were going. It had been nearly two days since John had heard from or seen me after I'd just disappeared in the middle of the night. He had probably freaked out and got Mycroft to look for me, which had most likely been what my brother had been doing right up to the point where he found us.

So I wasn't surprised when we pulled up right in front of 221B. Celia and I stepped out into the street, but Mycroft stayed in the car.

"I've got to get back to my office." He told me. "Not that I'm not glad that you're back, Sherlock, but I have work to do. You can fill me in later."

Mycroft shut the car door, not waiting for a reply. I led Celia up to the front door and stopped, turning to face her.

"If you could just wait here for a moment. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Alright," She sounded confused.

I went inside, shutting the door behind me. I'd known how this was going to go down since I'd gotten into my brother's car. John was going to be very angry, and that didn't need to be a group discussion.

Thankfully Mrs. Hudson was out. That was a conversation I could save for later. She was a lovely landlady, but I wasn't in the mood for an emotional greeting at the moment.

I was, after all, on a case, however interrupted.

I walked up the steps and stood in front of the door of Baker Street, bracing myself. Then, taking a deep breath, I turned the door knob and slipped inside.

Just as I'd suspected, John sat in his chair in the living room. Head in his hands, he'd heard the door open, but he hadn't known it was me.

"That you, Lestrade?" he mumbled.

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said lightly.

John looked up. "You- Sherlock-" And just like that, his disbelieving voice colored with rage. "What were you thinking? You bloody idiot, getting yourself kidnapped again and then just strutting back here like nothing ever happened!" He got up and came over to me, fists clenching and unclenching like he wasn't sure if he wanted to hug me or hit me. "You had me scared half to death, again…" Suddenly, he threw his arms around me, selecting the former of his choices, his fury abruptly breaking as he switched reactions again.

"Sherlock… don't ever do that again." John whispered, as if I could control when and if I got kidnapped. "That's the third time I thought you were dead."

"actually, that was the second time you thought I might have been dead. You only really thought I was dead once, after-"

"Fine, fine, I get it." He let go of me and took a step back. "Who kidnapped you this time? And how did you get away, anyway?"

"That's what I'm about to explain." I moved back toward the door. "I just have to get something first."

John raised his eyebrows.

"It'll only take a second."

He sighed, and I took that as permission to go. I hurried down the steps to grab Celia, who was still as bewildered as ever, and showed her up the stairs.

It only had been half a minute since I'd left the flat. I eased open the door again and walked inside, Celia two steps behind. I started to introduce them, but, seeing John, quickly realized that I didn't need to.

My friend stood by the sofa, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"Celia?"