Have you ever felt the overwhelming need for someone? The desire to be with they one person no matter what they are doing? Does that person create a crushing pain in your chest when you can't be with them? Does your stomach flutter as they enter the room? If you felt like this about someone could you let them walk off into the clutches of a madman? You couldn't? Neither could John. He was going to stop his lover from doing the most stupid thing ever, even if it killed him.

He left the detective sound asleep in their bed as he tiptoed down the stairs in search of Sherlock's phone. He needed to know the last time Moriarty had contacted Sherlock. Phone in hand he was surprised to see that Sherlock had willingly accepted the psycho's offer at a meeting. He should have known that Sherlock would go against his wishes. Grabbing a post-it note from the desk, John scribbled the meeting place and time down. He then carefully arranged the phone in the position how he had found it. With the note tucked into his pyjama pocket, he crept back up the stairs to be with his Sherlock.

Sliding under the covers, John shuffled up to Sherlock's warm body. The other man stirred in his sleep waking lightly.

"John what time is it?" groaned Sherlock blinking trying to clear his vision.

"Time you went back to sleep" replied John nuzzling into Sherlock's neck pressing kisses just below the hairline. Sherlock hummed at this early morning affection John was giving twisted himself around to view John. As they lazily kissed Sherlock grabbed at John's sides in an attempt to press them closer to each other. John broke the kiss to look Sherlock in the eye for a moment.

"You know I love you right? I would do anything for you" whispered John trying to stop any signs of distress from pouring out of him.

Sherlock glanced over every inch of John face as he deduced what was wrong for John to suddenly feel the need to remind Sherlock of facts he already knew.

"Of course"

With a slight nod of the head, John gently kissed Sherlock for the last time as he fell back asleep. Sherlock soon slipped off into his own slumber once again.

Groggily Sherlock awoke stretching his arms and legs out as far as possible, pushing all the tightness out of his body. Sherlock then rolled towards John's side of the bed for a cuddle only to find the sheets stone cold. Immediately Sherlock bolted up straight, carefully listening out for signs of life from the flat. Nothing.

Grabbing his clothing he dressed in a hurried manor with buttons uneven and zips not fully tightened. He pounded down the stairs eager to find out where his partner had got too. It wasn't like John just to leave without informing Sherlock of where he intended to go. Sherlock often demanded that John tell him important things such as this, even if he was in his mind palace. Some would call this over-protective but Sherlock had every right to be so, there was after all a manic psycho on the loose.

There was no sign of John anywhere in the rest of their flat. Eyes darting around the room Sherlock noticed a small detail wrong with the desk. The post-it notes had been moved. Stepping towards the desk, Sherlock observed that the fresh post-it note clearly had marks of writing impressed to the paper where the person writing had pressed too hard. Grabbing the post-it notes, Sherlock held it up to the light of the window in an attempt to read the pressed writing. The light glanced off the indentations perfectly for Sherlock to read the message.

13 Lupas Street, 7pm

Surely not? No. John wouldn't of, would he?

Panic hit Sherlock instantly as he felt a crippling over-whelming feeling engulf him. Sherlock knew exactly what he had to do. He reluctantly found his phone to message his brother for help. He then proceeded to contact John.

John followed the sign posts, unsure of exactly where the correct address was. As he stumbled through the winding streets, the day turned to night as the sun lowered in the sky and the reddening light glistened off the windows of the surrounding buildings.

John soon found the warehouse. Gun resting heavy in the waistband of his trousers he scouted the environment around him checking any signs of being followed.

A vibration against his upper leg distracted him from his mission.

Caller ID: Sherlock

Answer / Dismiss

Dismiss

John quickly adjusted the setting on his phone so that no more calls could disturb him. He pushed the phone back into his pocket and pulled leather gloves out from his jacket to cover any trace of finger prints. Arranging his profession mask he continued his mission.

As John sneaked deeper into the shadows around the building, he removed his gun from his waistband. He held the gun between his hands, relishing the feeling of the metal against the leather gloves. All his senses heightened as edged around the outside of the building. He found a side door, unguarded and slightly open. He elbowed the door open further, gun aimed into the area.

Nothing.

He carried on sweeping through the building ready to take action at any moment. There was still nothing. No people guarding the building and nobody even in it. He knew he was earlier than the chosen time, but surely Moriarty would of had arrived earlier to set up for his and Sherlock's meeting.

John came to metal ascending stairs. He climbed them carefully, placing his feet slowly on the stairs so that no noise would be made.

He made his way up to the second level of the building, he had a perfect view of the centre of warehouse. He decided to wait, placing himself against the wall to wait for Moriarty.

That stupid man. How could someone be so totally irresponsible?

'He has the ordasity to lecture me about personal safety while he won't even answer his phone?!' screamed Sherlock as he threw his phone at the wall smashing the mirror.

Scarf tugged off the rack and coat yanked on, Sherlock flew out of the flat with increased vigour. The detective didn't know who he was more pissed with; himself for letting this situation occur or John for not answering his phone.

Sherlock ran towards the main road, shoving past people as he ran. Sherlock ran straight out into the road narrowly missing a passing car. He observed as a nearby taxi became empty, he rushed forwarded plunging into the back of the taxi. Shouting directions to the driver, Sherlock quickly promised the driver extra money to drive faster. The taxi bounded through the streets, dodging beeping cars with angry drivers.

Sherlock became more and more agitated as the seconds trickled by. He dragged his nail over his wrist, sub-consciously, feeling the rush of blood flow through his veins. The breaking of the car coming to a halt increased the adrenaline in Sherlock as his thoughts focused back on finding John. Remembering to pay the driver, he threw far too many notes over the seat as he exited the car.

Thank you to the brilliant Iamsherlocked223 for betaing this chapter. And a massive thank you to Third Witch Generation for prompting ideas for this chapter.

Feel free to comment and review! :)