"I know where he is," Sherlock said as soon as they barged their way into Lestrade's office Sherlock of course would not have considered it barging. It was clear that Lestrade did, but had come to terms with it. Somewhat. John gave Lestrade a half apologetic smile. That seemed to calm the man. The detective inspector rubbed a tired hand over his short salt and pepper hair.
"Know where who is?" he asked.
"Don't be an idiot," Sherlock said with a slight tilt to his lips, "Well any more than usual. My brother. Mycroft Holmes. The one who's been kidnapped. I know where he is."
John rolled his eyes at the insult and sighed. Lestrade looked both offended and confused. But the confused won over.
"Your brother's been kidnapped?" he asked. Lestrade's eyes flickered over to John.
'Is that even possible?' Lestrade's gaze asked.
'Apparently' John's gaze replied as he nodded slightly.
"Honestly," Sherlock said flinging his hands up, "What is it like in your funny little brains? Yes, he has. Now you need to call a squad or whatever you call it and go get him. I told you; I know where he is."
'Should I get involved in this?' Lestrade's gaze asked John even as he spoke out loud to Sherlock.
"I didn't get any report on him being kidnapped," Lestrade seemed to muse, "But then that is not my division either, Sherlock. My division is homicide."
"And if you don't get on it right away; your division or not," Sherlock hissed slamming his hands on Lestrade desk, "It will become, most definitely, your division. And if it becomes, most definitely, your division. Then I will…"
"Sherlock," John stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.
"What!" Sherlock snapped at him. John ignored him and turned to Lestrade.
"Five days ago someone called saying that Mycroft's had been kidnapped. Sherlock just deduced his location from a photograph sent to us. We need to go get him before he dies," John finished, "We need your help."
Lestrade looked at John and then at Sherlock. Then picked up his desk phone.
"I need three squad cars now. We are going to pick up a possible homicide victim," he said then placed the phone down. "I only said that so that they won't give me a run around," he said to Sherlock's glaring face. He got up, grabbed his jacket and moved out the door with Sherlock and John following him wordlessly.
"John," Sherlock said in a low tone.
"Yes," John answered.
"Thank you," Sherlock said. John decided not to rub it in his face this time.
"You are welcome," he said, "Now where exactly is he?"
"In an old industrial warehouse of some sort, located near water on the east side of London," Sherlock said confidently. John sighed again.
"You know that isn't exactly direct locations," John said as they got into Lestrade's car.
"The searching part is for the fine upstanding officers of Scotland Yard," Sherlock replied. Lestrade glanced back at them.
"So where to?" he asked.
Eight hours and several scathing insults later; Sherlock was pacing up and down in the sitting room of their apartment while Lestrade stood near the door way and John sat in his armchair.
"He is there!" Sherlock yelled, pointing an arm at Lestrade.
"We searched every inch of the place Sherlock," Lestrade said for the hundredth time, "He's not. You were wrong."
"I was not wrong," Sherlock said, "I am not wrong!"
"Then you missed something," Lestrade said. Sherlock glared at him.
"Sherlock, think…" John began.
"Think, think, think," Sherlock sing-songed, "What the hell do you think I've been doing? I have been thinking. And my thinking told me that he is in one of those buildings."
"Sherlock," John ignored him, "There has to be something to narrow the search. Something more…definitive." Sherlock glared at John again. The flung his arm to point at the wall.
"I have been running the data, over and over," he said calmly, "over and over. The clues are right. I am right. If you want something more…definitive…then get me more data!" he yelled the last word and then went back to pacing.
Lestrade sighed and glanced at John.
'I'll be leaving. You'll be alright?' his gaze asked John.
'I'll be fine. He's just…frightened.' John's gaze told Lestrade.
Lestrade was about to tell Sherlock that he was going when Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs and held out a box.
"Sherlock dear," she began.
"What is it?" he hissed. She swallowed and shook the box slightly at him. He looked at it and grabbed it out her hand, quickly opening it. He took out a small USB stick. His hand trembled slightly and then he dashed to his computed, powering it on and sticking the USB into it. John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson came to sand behind him. There as one folder with two files in it. One audio clip which read 'Listen to Me First' and a video clip that read 'Fun Times'. Sherlock clicked on the audio clip.
"Well, well," a voice said, "Looks like you don't really care about your brother. Either that or you are stupider than I thought you were. I am greatly disappointed in you Sherlock. But even more in your brother. Who would have thought he would break so fast. It's only been six days and he's already almost undone. And who would have thought that all his fears are based on you. After all the mean things he says about you. Who would have thought that your death would be his." There was a pause then. "I hope you like the video. It was very amusing to both make and see."
Sherlock closed the clip and clicked on the video one. It was then the horrors began.