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Message sent to: Sherlock at 1:43am
Sherlock, where are you? Text me please – JW

John glanced at his phone again for what felt like the millionth time in the past ten minutes. Still no reply. He sighed and leaned his head back against the sofa, why wasn't Sherlock replying? He tried to remain calm, tried not to panic, but he couldn't help himself, the wedding was in less than 24 hours and his husband-to-be had disappeared.

Message sent to: Sherlock at 1:47am
Just text me please. Let me know you're safe – JW

John decided to go for a shower. Maybe that would help him to relax. He headed into the bathroom and turned the heat of the water right up, stripped quickly and stepped in letting the water beat down on him, the steam in the bathroom helping to relax him. He stayed in the shower for a while until his skin was red and tingling, then he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist.

As he walked through the living room on the way to the bedroom, he picked up his phone and checked for any missed calls or messages, there were none. He felt the tight ball of anxiety build up in his chest again and took a few deep, calming breaths before walking in the bedroom and perching on the edge of the bed. He looked around him, the bedroom was messier than he would usually let it get, he hadn't had time to clean it properly with the wedding drawing so close, the bed was unmade and rumpled after his and Sherlock's activities this morning- was it only this morning? It seemed like years ago now – his shoulders slumped forward and he let out a sigh.

Message sent to: Sherlock at 2:31am
Sherlock, please come home – JW

John decided that he needed to take some action, he couldn't just sit around waiting, and so begrudgingly he dialled Mycroft's number and pressed the phone against his ear.

"John." Mycroft answered after the first ring, and as always did not sound tired.

"Hey, Mycroft, sorry about this I know it's late, but I need some help."

"Of course, John. How can I be of assistance?"

John paused, not really sure what he was going to ask for, "Its Sherlock..." he began, as he was sure most of his conversations with Mycroft did, "he insisted on going out for a case this evening and he hasn't returned or been in touch, he's not returning his messages, I'm worried."

Mycroft let out a huff or frustration, "that boy," he murmured, not following it up with anything, though John could imagine Mycroft had a few choice words he would like to say.

"Not to worry, John, I'll see that he is returned home safely in plenty of time for the wedding."

"Thanks Mycroft, really, it means a lot."

"No problem, you should get some rest now, you've a big day ahead of you."

"Yeah, okay, thanks."

"Good night John."

"Good night Mycroft."

John hung up and pulled on some pyjama pants before climbing into bed, and burying his face in Sherlock's pillow, feeling the absence of his lover acutely.