It was 1:20AM and John Watson was standing alone in front 65 Eddleton Lane. If all had gone to plan, Lestrade was in a nearby building scoping out the site. In just a few minutes John would catch a cab, pretending to leave the area. Once a few blocks away he would double back and join Lestrade, if the DI texted John his location.
An unexpected chill ran down John's spine, and he suddenly felt like he was being watched. He shivered and remembered that he was being watched—by Lestrade. He turned towards the main road, which he could see just a few hundred meters away. One more impatient glance at his watch told John that it was 1:25AM, time for him to "give up". Trying to keep his pace casual, he felt like he was being watched even more closely than before. John was a few dozen meters from the road when he heard something soft behind him. It may have been the wind blowing a bit of rubbish, or it may have been a muffled footstep. Before John had time to turn and find out, something hit the back of his head forcefully, and darkness overtook his vision.
When John came-to he was sprawled on the sidewalk, his body cold and damp from a light sleet that had begun to fall. Pushing up his sore body to sit on the curb, John groaned and gingerly felt the back of his head. A dark, wet substance stained his fingertips. Not just sleet, blood.
Patting the front of his jacket and reaching in his pockets, John could not find his mobile. Looking at his wristwatch, John saw the time: 2:03AM. Nearly 40 minutes from when he was attacked. While he could not check for missed messages from Lestrade, it seemed unlikely that the DI, seeing John being attacked, would have left him unconscious in the street. It also seemed unlikely that the street would remain this quiet if Lestrade had been able to apprehend the kidnapper.
A tightness grew in John's chest. Something definitely had not gone to plan. After all Lestrade's efforts to keep John safe, he worried that he may have put the DI in danger.
Maybe he was never here. Maybe he was pulled onto another case. I have no way to check if he tried to reach me...
Not knowing what to do, John headed back to 221B, hoping he didn't have a concussion. When he reached the flat he cleaned and dressed his head, changed into pajamas, and turned on the telly. He was determined to stay awake in case he had a concussion, and would have Sarah check him out at the clinic in the morning. Then he would stop by the Yard. He looked at his watch: 3:39AM. Just a few hours, John told himself, before turning up the volume on the television for good measure, just stay awake.
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