I've decided to dedicate this chapter to sherdocwho for the conversation on Tumblr last night, you're amazing! Enjoy!

[Sherlock]

I don't remember moving from that table after John left, but I must have moved unconsciously, for I soon found myself back in my hotel room. I was still reeling from what had been said, and John's last words to me kept bouncing around inside my head.

"Don't come looking for me. I don't want you to."

Had he really meant that? I had been fairly certain before our meeting that he would respond positively to the prospect of being in my life again, but that didn't seem to be how he'd taken it at all. Though, I had to admit, I had started to glimpse the old John increasingly more as the conversation went on, until that stupid moment where I'd hesitated. If I hadn't done that, if I had said I would be able to forgive him, he wouldn't have walked out on me. Everything could have gone much more smoothly.

However, I wasn't sure yet if that would have been a lie. Would I ever be able to forgive him? Until this moment I had grudgingly accepted that it wouldn't be so, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised I couldn't blame him. No one can really be blamed for the state of their mental health, and John certainly couldn't be. After all, he hadn't been the one to jump off a building and force his best friend to watch. Therefore, logically, if anyone was to be blamed, it would be me. Or perhaps Moriarty, as it was much easier to decide to blame him than myself, and he couldn't exactly contradict me considering his deceased state.

I would not back down, no matter what John wanted. He needed me as much as I'd needed him in my life. I knew exactly how to deal with unwilling participants, I'd been one my whole life.

That little burst of hope had me jolting up from the bed where I'd been perching and grabbing my coat. I needed to send a message to John, telling him that I did forgive him. Maybe then he would finally see reason, and come back with me. I darted through the hotel hallways and out the lobby until I was on the street, and I felt almost consumed by determination. My scarf flew behind me as I sprinted to the nearest taxi and hopped in, telling the cabby to drop me outside the Diogenes Club, where I was sure my brother would be situated.

I retreated into the outer layers of my mind palace as we drove, and I began to formulate a plan. John had sent me a text before, and unless he had somehow gained a much more impressive intellect in the space of three years, he would not have bothered to dispose of the phone, making it traceable. It would be a simple matter to track the phone, find John, and force him to admit that he needed my help. He couldn't possibly refuse, and I wouldn't hear any of that nonsense about him being dangerous-

My thoughts were cut off as the car suddenly screeched to a halt, and I slammed into the seat in front at the sudden change. My mind was bleary, and though I tried desperately to organise my thoughts, the impact had left me dizzy and disorientated. My vision swam confusingly, and I could taste the tell-tale flavour of blood in my mouth from where I'd bitten my tongue. I sat back, unable to do much else, and then my car door opened. A strong pair of hands gripped my arm and dragged me out onto the road, where my shaky legs threatened to buckle so I had no choice but to lean into the man who had grabbed me. He stank of sweat and blood, which was never a nice combination, and something told me that he was not a nice man. Maybe it was the way he ferociously manhandled me into another waiting car while simultaneously growling in my ear to stay silent. It was impossible to know for sure.

By the time the door had shut behind me I had most of my senses back, and was fully aware of the fact I was in the middle of a kidnapping. I tried to attack the man sat next to me, but my movements were sluggish and ineffective. There was no way to defend myself as he produced a syringe and proceeded to shove it into my arm in a very dodgy manner.

The drug was reasonably quick to take effect, but that didn't stop me from sounding like a complete idiot for about twenty seconds. I think I may have given him an eye roll and told him where he could stick his needle next time. I may also have told the man that my brother would save me when he stopped eating so much cake. He probably started laughing at that point, but I was too much of a mess to care about such things.

The next time I regained consciousness, I was tied to a chair in a dark little room and my head hurt like hell. I groaned from the pain, which also succeeded in alerting my captors that I was awake. One man wandered over from where he'd been watching me, and I forced my eyes to focus on his face and memorise every detail that could help me escape. He was reasonably tall, with greying hair and calloused hands that suggested he had seen more than his fair share of fights.

"Mister Holmes, a pleasure to finally meet you," he sneered, and I couldn't have stopped the expression of distaste I gave him if I'd tried. Like his henchmen, this man had apparently never heard of soap. I decided that opening my mouth would be unwise, as an appropriate quote of John's came to mind, 'Let's give smart-arse a wide berth, shall we?'

Needless to say, my captor did not take being ignored well, and smacked me over the head, not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to shock. I blinked a few times, but still remained silent. He grabbed my head with one chunky hand and drew me closer so that I had no choice but to look at him as he spoke.

"That friend of yours, Mister Watson, has really gotten on my nerves these last few months. Nobody comes to me for business anymore, and that bloody bastard seems to have all the fame nowadays. He'd better stop, or I might just hurt that pretty face of yours..." He had obviously thought out that speech of his word for word, and he had probably practiced it beforehand, meaning to scare me. I could barely restrain the eye roll. This guy obviously hadn't done his research.

"So you take the time out of your busy schedule to stalk me, crash my taxi, kidnap me, and all because you're jealous of John? That seems to be the most idiotic thing I've ever heard! So, now what? You plan to send him a video of me all tied up in this chair, in this dingy basement, and tell him that if he doesn't just give up that you'll kill me?" The incredulous look on his face told me I was right. What an amateur. "Even a three year old could have come up with a more interesting scheme! I'm insulted to be here in your presence."

I realised soon after, that considering I was tied to a chair in a room full of armed criminals, my insults could have been timed better. This man seemed to have more anger issues than John. He fumed for a few minutes in silence, and I could see his hand twitch to where he must have been keeping his gun, but fortunately he must have realised I was more use to him alive.

"Keep him drugged. I don't want to kill him yet, but if he says anything else..." The man trailed off before exiting the room with all the pride he could muster, and I sighed as I realised I would not be escaping anytime soon. Unless Mycroft came to save the day, which was rather likely. If anything, I would have expected him already.

I ignored the sting of the needle in my arm, and tried to allow for this annoying but brief setback for my overall plan in trying to help John.

Considering the incompetence of this group of criminals, I doubted that I'd be here longer than a couple of hours. Therefore, I sat back and let the darkness consume me with little fuss, and all the while I thought about John. Everything would be alright.

Please review! It makes me happy! I was excited when I got all the response about how you wanted it to end, and I'm now pretty happy with the one I've decided! I just hope you guys will like it... Don't worry, there's still quite a few chapters to go yet!