The Case of the Missing Detectives

by Little Jessit

After Sherlock's fall, John finds himself in the middle of a string of police kidnappings. At the same time, he has a growing suspicion that his friend may not be dead after all. John can only hope he lives long enough to find out the truth.

1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Waving from behind a large rock. Hi there! While I've read many amazing stories on in the past, this is my first contribution (hence the hiding behind rocks). It hasn't been Brit picked or beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Please R&R if you have the time. Thank you for reading, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own BBC or any of its characters. I'm just borrowing, but promise to return them in time to film the rest of Season Three.

---

Chapter 1

John Watson stood in the living room of 221B Baker Street, wondering how he had ended up in a standoff with a police Sergent. In nothing but pajamas, he sighed to himself. A bit not good. Wasn't this exactly the sort of thing that should have stopped after Sherlock jumped?

He was tired, groggy, and becoming distracted by an infomercial blaring on the television behind him. Focus. Deduce the situation, a voice in his mind instructed. Realizing that his thoughts had wandered, John squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. What did he know about the man standing across from him? First, he was not a stranger. He worked under Detective Inspector Lestrade. John had met him once, just days earlier. The man had been recently transferred to Scotland Yard, and previously served in the army. A sharpshooter, if John remembered correctly. His name was Mellon? Morgan? No – Moran.

In the back of his mind, John heard sirens several blocks away. Without breaking eye contact, he let out a small sign of relief. Mrs. Hudson must have called the police. It will all be okay soon.

As if hearing John's thoughts Moran said, "You're not getting out of this one, Dr. Watson. I know what you've done." Despite the beads of sweat forming along his hairline, John shivered.

"This is some kind of misunderstanding." Moran responded with a sharp laugh.

The sirens were louder now, just outside the window. Someone was knocking on the front door. A momentary pulse of relief ran through John before he realized his predicament. He would need to convince a room full of policemen to trust him over their colleague. Highly unlikely.

John sighed again, wondering how he had gotten into this situation. Oh yes, he remembered, my blind date two weeks ago. How could I have forgotten?

##################