*Alright guys, the main part of this story is coming to an end, but I was considering posting a few one shot type chapters at the end to detail other parts of their lives after this game. But the content might require a step up in ratring. Let me know your thoughts. If most of the reviews don't want a step up, I can write the stories in T. Or if you think I should just end it and make the chapters one-shot ficlets, let me know. Rand R please!
John closed the phone and mentally cursed himself. He should have told Sherlock. He wanted to say it so badly. He wanted the words to be out there in the open for everyone to hear. Three simple words: I love you.
But he couldn't bring himself to say them in this way. It seemed to final to say them with so much distance between them. He wanted the first time to be special, not some rushed distanced thing over the phone. He wanted to see his detective's face when those words gushed forth from the well of emotion inside. He wanted to see the elation, feel the muscles of the other man's face contract, observe the dilation of those pupils, hear the quickening of his best mate's pulse.
He wanted it all so much.
John sucked in his breath, tensed up his shoulders, and squeezed his eyes shut. All the tension in his body bunched up in his head and hands. He held it there for a second before blew out his breath and threw his arms down gently, releasing all the tension, and letting him get a better grip over the emotions that threatened to take him over. He would need to be in full possession of his faculties if he was going to retrieve Sherlock. The detective had done the easy part by eliminating all but a few of the remaining locations, but now the hard work of finding the exact one was too begin.
"Have you been able to eliminate any of the five?" John turned and asked Mycroft, who was perched on the couch with John's laptop in his lap.
"I've eliminated all but two, based on current construction work, frequency of use, and other factors I was able to deduce from your conversation with my dear brother." Mycroft drawled. John blinked in surprise. He forgot how alike the two brothers were, despite vehement protest from both parties to the contrary.
"Fantastic. Names?" John asked as he strode over to where Lestrade was at the kitchen table, the map spread out before him.
"Roseburg Hall and Smaug Auditorium." Mycroft replied as he sat the laptop down and strode over to the other two men. He pointed out their locations on the map.
"Alright. What else-"John was cut off by the ringing of his phone. He excitedly pulled it out and answered without checking the caller ID.
"Sherlock, good news! We've narrowed it down to two places! We're so close-"
"Ah, how touchingly loyal the pet is to its master. It warms my heart so to see it. Not that I have one. My Sebby took it long ago, and kept it safe for me, unlike you. I know exactly where your heart is and how exactly to hurt it. I warned Sherly I would burn the heart out of him. The added benefit is hurting you. You see, poor little Sherly is too weak to stand up against me. He always did detest sentiment. Rightly so, as it has done nothing but drop him down to your level. The level of the angels." Sneered a very different voice than the one John was expecting. John paled at the voice, but surprisingly, found the courage to speak up once the spider started venomously attacking John's flatmate (was that really the right word?)
"Listen here, you bastard, Sherlock and I, we make each other stronger. We will beat this little game of yours. I will find Sherlock, and I. Will. Kill. You." John threatened, doing his best to sound intimidating. At the other end of the line, John could hear a peal of laughter.
"Oh, I have no doubt you will find Sherlock, but does he want to be found? Last I talked to him, he was desperate to remain hidden. Especially from you." Moriarty sung. John felt his heart drop into his stomach.
"Wh-what do you mean?" John stammered, doing his best to mask his emotions. He knew Moriarty was just trying to get a rise out of him. He was doing a damn good job too.
"Oh nothing, I'm sure. I left some of my…goods there when I was there last, you see. I'm sure with excellent detective skills, he's managed to come across part of the stash by now. The seven percent solution, if I recall, always was his favorite." Moriarty said innocently. John became enraged at Moriarty's implications.
"Sherlock is clean! He wouldn't betray me that way. If I didn't know any better, Moriarty, I'd say that you are just trying to make me believe that Sherlock shouldn't be trusted, and therefore, isn't a valid source for the progress we've made in locating him! You know what you can do Moriarty? You can take your implications, shove them up your arse, then go crawl in a hole and die!" John said, suddenly impassioned. He took the liberty of hanging up the phone, so he wouldn't have to listen to one more word from that spider. He repeated the earlier process of releasing his tension to get a grip on the new anger before he broke something. When he opened his eyes, he saw Mycroft and Lestrade staring at him. When they noticed his noticing them staring, they quickly cleared their throats and turned back to the map.
John huffed and walked over to the couch. He flopped down, much in the manner of its normal resident, then steepled his hands under his chin. If it works for Sherlock, maybe it will work for me. He contemplated the conversation he had just had with Moriarty. He hadn't seemed quite bellicose enough, especially there at the end. The Moriarty John knew wouldn't have let John just figure that out. He was too clever for that. So why…? Unless Moriarty wanted him to think those things! Maybe Moriarty wanted John to think that Moriarty John to think that Sherlock was suffering some strain that wouldn't allow his mind to function to its full capabilities. Maybe Sherlock really wasn't up to his full mental capacities. There was that whole conversation about the roses. Why would Sherlock lie about that though? Unless they actually did have some significance and Sherlock really didn't want John to come. But why wouldn't Sherlock want me there. Unless he thinks that my coming was dangerous. But my not coming would be dangerous for him. John was hopelessly confused within his own mind.
He snapped his eyes open, willing the confusion to clear from his head. He wouldn't worry about whatever Sherlock was afraid of. He just needed to find Sherlock. John knew he could take care of himself, so Sherlock's fear was unfounded. He closed his eyes again to think about the clues. The roses were really the only clue. Why had Sherlock lied about them? Roses…red, have thorns, Fibonacci. No No No. Roses…Roseberg Hall, of course!
John snapped up off the couch, ran for his coat and shouted "I know which it is, I'm sure of it!" as he bounded outside. Mycroft and Lestrade paused in surprise, and then started to follow him. John stopped at the bottom of the stairs when he heard the door of the flat close.
"No! You can't come. He said he's going to kill Sherlock if you come!" John cried out.
"Now John be sensib-"Mycroft started. John cut him off with a glare.
"John, mate, you need back up! You of all people should be cautious of Moriarty!" Lestrade said desperately, trying to get the point across.
John glanced down in consideration, then looked back up with a new flame in his eyes.
John nodded then walked back up to the two men, and whispered into each of their ears separately. He then loudly proclaimed "I know that Sherlock is at Smaug Auditorium. If you try to follow me, I will shoot you. I can't have you endangering my chances of rescuing Sherlock!"
John turned and ran down the steps and out the front door. As he started off towards Roseberg Hall, he smiled to himself. He was going to get Sherlock.