When they got back to Baker Street Mrs Hudson met them at the door. She looked hopefully at Sherlock. He just shook his head sadly and headed up the stairs. He couldn't talk to her, he felt like he'd let her down as well as John. He knew she must be feeling as concerned as he was and he had no news to offer. He was no closer to finding John Watson, finding the man that meant so much to both of them.
Lestrade briefly explained to Mrs Hudson what little they knew before following Sherlock up to the flat. "Cup of tea?" he asked. Sherlock shook his head. "Come on, you need to drink and eat. You'll be no use to John if you don't look after yourself." Sherlock didn't answer so Lestrade headed into the kitchen and made tea anyway.
A few minutes later he carried it into Sherlock and offered him some biscuits he'd found in the cupboard. Sherlock looked at the packet Lestrade was holding, then up at him and frowned. Lestrade just held the packet closer to Sherlock until he realised there was no saying no. Sherlock sighed and took one. Lestrade then placed the biscuits on the table next to the tea and sat down.
"Haven't you got any work to do?" Sherlock asked. He wasn't sure he wanted Lestrade to leave but he felt awkward not having any answers to give him. Lestrade was the one who came to him when he had no idea how to find a criminal but now it was him who had no clue.
"Nothing more important than this." was the answer Lestrade gave him and Sherlock smiled slightly. It was good to know how much people were prepared to do to help John. John was a good man after all. The best. He deserved it.
Lestrade did want to help John obviously but he also knew that right now Sherlock needed some support too. He'd never seen him distressed before but that was certainly what he was. You could see it on his face.
When Sherlock had eaten his biscuit and drunk his tea under the watchful eye of Lestrade he sat back in his chair to think. There was something niggling at the back of his mind. Something he felt he should remember. He was sure it had something to do with that Internet cafe but he just couldn't place it.
When the text came in a few hours later Sherlock's heart sank. He needed the clues to find John but to get to those clues he had to watch his friend get hurt. He opened his emails and pressed play on the video dreading what he'd see.
As he heard the question "So Sherlock what do you think?" he looked at a face that was barely recognisable. Sherlock heard Leastrade take a sharp breath behind him as they watched what happened next and although he didn't want to see he couldn't tear his gaze away from the screen. Sherlock stood frozen to the spot as he watched his best friend used as a punching bag. He could see the pain on John's face even thought he wasn't crying out.
Sherlock's relief when the man stopped punching was short lived as he saw him grab hold of John's finger and twist. When he heard the screams of pain that went with the breaking bones Sherlock's blood ran cold. So distraught was he, so desperate to be able to get to John and relieve his suffering that he almost didn't pick up on the spoken words at the end of the message. Especially when that last punch landed on John's ribs and he saw the look of defeat on his face. He looked so lost, so broken that Sherlock wanted to kill the person responsible. But right now he knew he needed to concentrate.
"What did he say?" he asked Lestrade.
"What?" Sherlock turned and looked at the DI. His face was white and he obviously hadn't paid attention either.
"He said something. Something important. Brother. He mentioned the word brother." Sherlock was busy taking the video back to the point after John's finger was broken. He had no desire to watch it again but he had to hear what was said. He knew it meant something.
"Oh one last thing before I go. How's your brother? Hm? I'd like to be able to tell you how my brother is but I don't have one anymore."
"Mycroft..."
"What could Mycroft have to do with this?" Lestrade asked, having made himself concentrate on the task in hand rather than what they'd just witnessed.
"I've no idea." Sherlock answered, frustratedly. "But something. Otherwise why mention him? And his brother too. It's a clue. It has to be."
Lestrade watched as Sherlock rubbed his temples with his fingers obviously trying to think.
Sherlock had so many things whirling around in his brain but none of it made sense. The Internet cafe. Mycroft. Brothers. What could it possibly all mean? "Aaarrrggghhh!" he yelled "I can't place it. I just can't."
"It's OK" Lestrade tried to reassure him "You will."
"It's not OK." he shouted back "John is being hurt because I'm being stupid. It's there in front of me. I know it is and I can't see it." Sherlock threw himself down in his chair annoyed at being such a fool. His brain always worked quickly, so why when his best friend needed him was he being so slow?