Stupid, stupid John, he mused as he ran down the sidewalk, blindly shoving people aside and trying to decide where they might have gone. He should have known that Victor was keeping tabs on Sherlock. He was sure, of course, that it had been Victor who had taken Sherlock; the man was way too possessive for John's liking.

He stopped near the corner of Baker Street, contemplating what to do. He could run blindly down the avenue yelling Sherlock's name (yes, because that will do so much good for finding him, said a distinctly Sherlock-like voice in his head). He could call Mycroft; except when they finally found Sherlock the man would most likely kill John for getting his overbearing older brother involved. He wracked his brains…what would Sherlock do? Then, it came to him; Greg.

He remembered Sherlock telling him about the last time he had overdosed. Greg had found him, lying in the gutter, covered in filth and half-naked. The inspector had taken him home and helped him back to health. Greg was responsible for Sherlock staying off drugs, according to Sherlock. Mycroft may have been Sherlock's brother at the time, but Greg was really the one who Sherlock would turn to if things got tough. John relaxed just a bit, and, hailing a cab, pulled out his phone to call the one man who could help him make things right.

…

"Breathing. Not so fucking boring now, is it, Sherlock?"

Sherlock's vision clouded and he choked as the chain Victor made him wear tightened around his neck. He gasped for breath, trying to alleviate the pressure on his throat. "Victor…Victor, I'm sorry, I'll try to be better, I promise…" he murmured in a raspy voice.

Victor leaned in close. "You better be." he snarled, and kicked Sherlock in the ribs for good measure, causing the consulting detective to double over in pain. "Now come with me; we're going to bed, and if you aren't good you'll have a lot more pain to look forward to than just a kick in the ribs." he said threateningly.

Victor leaned back in his chair, sighing contentedly. "Remember our uni days, Sherlock?" he asked calmly. "Remember all the fun, the ecstasy, the late nights…oh god, those late nights…" he moaned. He looked down at Sherlock with glazed eyes. "We could do it again, Sherlock. Find a dealer. All the pain; gone. Remember the feeling? I'm sure you do."

Sherlock glared at the man. "I was clean all those years, Victor. For John. And so I will remain." He spat in a choked voice.

Victor pulled him in close. "Not if I say otherwise." He said, leering down at the consulting detective.

Victor stood and walked towards the bedroom of his small flat, dragging Sherlock along with him. "One of these days, Sherlock, the pain of it all will just become too much for you again. And when it does, you'll be begging me for relief."

….

Greg looked up as John burst into his office. "John. What do you need? I was just off to a meeti…" he trailed off, looking around John and towards the hallway. "Where's Sherlock?"

John's eyes twitched frantically. "I don't know…the man…took him and…he's gone…it's my fault, I should have…should have seen the signs earlier…god, they were all there, how did I not see it…I let him down, he's going to die…"

Greg grabbed John's shoulders, concerned. "John. Calm down and tell me what the hell you're on about!"

John took a deep breath. "Do you know a man named Victor Trevor?"

Greg frowned, thinking. "Y'know, I think Sherlock may have mentioned him once or twice after the last overdose, but I can't really remember."

John looked at him curiously. "What did he say about him?"

Greg was deep in thought. "Well, it wasn't all that clear, him in withdrawal and all, but I thought the guy was an old university friend of his."

John nodded. "That's right. But he wasn't just a friend, Greg." He sighed. "Victor was Sherlock's first boyfriend, apparently."

Greg laughed uneasily. "Sherlock's boyfriend? You're off your rocker, John."

John balled his hands into fists. "Greg, it's true. Victor was Sherlock's old boyfriend, and he's come back. I found…" John took a long breath, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes. "I found him and Victor in bed the other day when I came home."

Greg looked concerned. "Ah." He looked down awkwardly. "Well, John, I'm sorry, I really am. But there's not an awful lot I can do about Sherlock cheating on you with some past flame…"

"Sherlock had been beaten to within an inch of his life." John said quietly. "I walked in on him in the bathroom later and he was practically bleeding to death all over the tile."

Greg's eyes widened. "What happened? Did he give you a reason?"

"Victor said that Sherlock had gotten into a fight at the pub. But…"

Greg broke in, knowing what was coming. "…But Sherlock doesn't drink or go to pubs." He ran a hand through his graying hair. "Oh, Christ. You…you think Victor's abusive?" he whispered.

John nodded solemnly, and then unexpectedly swore a blue streak. "I missed all the signs the other day; the possessiveness, the bruising, the winces…" he shook his head, frustrated with himself, tears pricking at his eyes. "Sherlock came back to Baker Street this morning. At first I thought he was dead, he was lying so still on the living room carpet. But he moved and…" John broke off, a single tear falling from his eyelid. "I helped him to the bedroom, so I could patch him up. I was only gone for a few minutes, just enough time to get my bag; when I got back, Sherlock was gone."

John thunked down into a chair and put his head in his hands. "I know it was him, Greg." He said, voice almost a whisper. "I swear to god, if he lays a hand, no, a finger on Sherlock, i'm going to kill the bloody bastard!" he yelled.

Greg sat down opposite him. "We have to find him, John. I can't let him down again." Greg unconsciously rubbed a faded scar on his arm as he spoke. What was that from, John wondered? He made a mental note to ask later, when Sherlock was safe in his arms again.

Greg picked up the phone and dialed a number. He spoke to John as it connected. "I'll put my best men on it right away." He turned and spoke into the phone. "Get me Dimmock and anyone with experience in search and rescue or domestic abuse victims." He turned back to John and looked the army doctor in the eye.

"We won't let him get away with this, John. We'll get Sherlock back, if it takes us all our lives."