Hello everyone! I'm terribly sorry for the long wait, but school's been a bitch and I'm going away for a couple of days next week so it has just been a lot to do. Anyhow, as always I want to thank my latest followers/favouriters: calgary9673 and Kotten, you are lovely! That goes for everyone who is sticking with this story, I love you all!

Comments/reviews are always appreciated! Keep smiling :)

Chapter 22

Even though they had woken up together a couple of times before, the morning after felt different. The whole atmosphere had changed somehow. John lay in the bed, watching Sherlock sleep. He looked so young, and so vulnerable. John savored the moment, knowing that it was a rare one.

After a while, Sherlock stirred and slowly seemed to come back to reality. He didn't say anything, but his hand searched John's and he laced their fingers together. John smiled. Sherlock could be really cuddly sometimes, though he would probably snap the neck on the person who dared to proclaim this out loud. That person would be John, since he was the only one who has actually seen Sherlock like this. But he definitely wanted to keep his neck intact, so he just made a mental note of it, and added it to the list of everything new he'd learned about Sherlock the past few weeks. John nudged at Sherlock, trying to wake him.

"Sherlock? How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Good. Fantastic." He seemed suddenly wide awake. "Thank you for…distracting me last night. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there."

"It's nothing. My pleasure." John said. He realized the double-meaning of that sentence when Sherlock started chuckling and they ended up giggling for ten minutes. Then they both fell silent again and looked at each other, the atmosphere suddenly a bit tense.

"We need to talk" John said quietly.

Sherlock nodded. "I know" he said, but didn't meet John's eyes.

"I'll make some tea. Get dressed and we'll talk over breakfast" John said as he got dressed and headed out into the kitchen. The previous night had been absolutely perfect, but they couldn't just walk around pretending everything was okay. John needed to know everything, and Sherlock knew that. John made tea and toast and sat down opposite Sherlock. "Okay" he said, bracing himself for what might come and looked Sherlock straight in the eye "I'm ready. Tell me."

Sherlock took a sip of his tea. He seemed to want to drag it out as much as possible, but then he looked up at John and seemed to make up his mind.

"Okay. After you…left the flat after seeing the text, I was wrecked. It was like being back a couple of years, before I met you. Everyone leaves me John, everyone. But you didn't. But then you saw the text and I knew I had broken you. That I had messed everything up, like I always do. I knew there were more rational ways of dealing with the situation, but you were gone and I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. The only thing I could think about was to forget, just for a couple of hours. I needed…something soothing."

"Drugs" John cut in. Sherlock looked up from his tea-cup, where his eyes had been glued for the past minutes. A faint blush tainted his cheeks, but he nodded.

"Yes, drugs. I knew that I couldn't get in touch with my old contacts, because Mycroft would have known about it in less than five minutes. I didn't know what to do, and then it just hit me. I knew that Ryan wanted me, in more than one way. I also knew that he could provide me with what I needed at the moment. It was a terrible idea to get in touch with him without telling Lestrade, I know that, but I just didn't care at the moment. So I called Ryan, making it sound like I wanted to make a trade with him. But when he came over he started to…touch me" John clenched his fists in jealousy. "and I just knew right away that I could never go through with it. And when I told him he got furious. He started to beat me up, and then I became unconscious and the next time I woke up I was in some large room, a storage or something I think. I'm not quite sure, they had given me something by then so it's a bit blurry."

"It was a warehouse, by the port. We were there after they had moved you, we tracked your phone." John explained, and it seemed to give Sherlock another puzzle-piece. John knew how frustrating it must be for Sherlock, not being exactly sure about the details.

"Oh. Yes that explains the noise and the smell of sea." Sherlock said, more to himself than to John.

"Well anyway. I remember trying to text you, but they discovered it and threw away my phone. Then they hit me again, I think it was when this happened" he gestured towards his forehead "and the next time I woke up I was at the house. I was pretty much pumped with various drugs the entire time, but at one moment I felt a bit like myself and I managed to look out the window and deduce where I was. The next time someone entered the room I pick-pocketed their phone and texted you. And well, the rest you know.

John cleared his throat in lack of a better response. He still had questions, but his thoughts were in a complete mess. "Why didn't they kill you?" He said after a while. Sherlock thought about it for a moment.

"I think they were planning to use me as a bribe to get away from the police or something. They sedated me enough to immobilize me, but not enough to be lethal. I have no idea where all the cuts come from though; I just remember a lot of pain."

John winced. He really hated the idea of Sherlock in pain. He fell silent; contemplating everything he had told him. He wasn't mad at Sherlock anymore; he just felt a white hot rage against those who'd done this to him. "Do you still have questions?" Sherlock asked, sounding a bit hesitant. John thought about it, but couldn't come up with anything at the moment. Besides he wasn't sure he could hear anymore before he'd run off and beat the crap out of Ryan and his fellows. He shook his head. "Not at the moment, no."

"Okay" Sherlock nodded, understanding just what John felt. "I have a question."

"Of course, yes. What is it?"

"Can we go back to bed now?"

John smiled. There was nothing else they could do at the moment, Lestrade was the police after all and John knew he would definitely deal with this whole thing correctly. All he wanted to do was spending time with Sherlock, holding him and just be happy that they were together after all of this.

He nodded and took Sherlock's hand, dragging him into the bedroom once more.