Guys, this is it. The first of five chapters that will leave you shaking and crying out in both fear and anticipation. The first part of the reveal will come at the end of this chapter, but please don't just skip to the end. The wait will make it so much more exciting. Just read.

[Sherlock]

I felt absolutely, positively awful. Every single part of my body was in pain, the worst being the astounding headache that throbbed and left me feeling like I'd been run over.

I sat up, taking a few seconds to remember that I was in my brother's house, but other than that piece of information, I could barely remember anything else. My thoughts felt sluggish, and I had a feeling I was missing something important. I decided the best course of action was to consult John, after all, he knew of all my misdoings, and would most likely be able to give me advice, such as how to cure the annoying headache.

I wandered to his room, but was surprised to find it abandoned. The fact worried me, as it didn't look like he'd just moved rooms. I thought back to my last memory, and found that it was being on John's balcony and comforting him in the middle of the night. I considered that I could have done something wrong, such as attempted to take it too far, and he'd run off. It seemed unlikely, though. That wasn't John's personality.

I set out to find Mycroft, deciding that he would undoubtedly have the answers I was seeking. He really was a pain in the arse to search for, especially in his massive house, for he knew of all the good hiding places. I finally found him in the library, absently scanning a book but I could tell he wasn't absorbing the words. It was something I had seen him do often back in his youth, as if it didn't look like he was doing something, Mummy would force him away from his thinking to attempt something he didn't enjoy.

My brother looked up when I entered the room, and from the way he immediately discarded the book I could tell he had been awaiting my arrival. That was never a good sign.

"Are you alright, Sherlock?" He asked, and the concern in his voice was rather worrying. It made it sound like there was something wrong.

"I don't know," I admitted, still rather shaken as to why there seemed to be gaps in my memory. "Where's John?" I asked.

Mycroft let his jaw slacken in shock and confusion, and again I was struck at what a rare occasion this was. The man never showed emotions, and this was two in the space of a few seconds. He furrowed his brow in intense thought for a few seconds before speaking up.

"You... You don't remember?"

"I wouldn't be here if I did."

Mycroft took a deep breath before answering, and from the look on his face I could tell he was trying to think of the appropriate way to phrase something. "John left. He told me you two had an argument, and that you stormed out after he threatened to leave."

I swallowed thickly, trying to come to terms with this new information. I would never have left in such a situation, would I? Not where John's safety was concerned. What was more worrying was that my brain had deleted the memories, so I didn't even know what we had been arguing about. What had happened?

"When was that?" I asked, unsure as to whether I really wanted to hear the answer.

Mycroft stared at me for a good ten seconds before answering. "Three days ago. From what my staff have told me, you've been asleep since then." I felt my breath catch in my throat, and I could hardly believe what he was trying to tell me.

"What else happened before then?" I asked firmly, not allowing my panic to show through. I needed to know what had happened so that I could find John. Who knew what I had said to him in the argument, when I obviously wasn't in control?

"From what I've gathered, you took a midnight walk, and didn't return. John found you soaking wet in the middle of the forest, and you were muttering and screeching about being drugged." Hmm, so that was what had happened, but it still didn't explain the argument.

"However," Mycroft continued, and I felt myself stiffen at what I assumed would only be bad news. "When you were tested for drugs, there were none found in your system." Well, that was unexpected. How could I not have been drugged?

"Who tested me?" I asked, noting the small quiver in my voice.

"You did." Mycroft replied evenly. Well, that was stupid. If I had been under the influence of drugs, who knew how I could have interpreted the results of such a test?

"So why did John leave?" It had been bugging me. If I hadn't looked stable, why had he left? Surely he would have taken nothing I'd said to heart? If I'd insulted him, surely he would have seen it as a result of the drugs?

"Apparently after hearing that you hadn't been drugged, he immediately reasoned that his own mental instability was rubbing off on you. He tried to talk to you about it, but you wouldn't listen to him. Then, when you ignored his threats, he felt it was in your best interests to leave. I tried to stop him, but we both know what a stubborn man he is, and very protective of you. There was nothing I could do." That did sound very much like something John would do. He was always blaming himself for things that weren't his fault, and the doctor was rather overprotective when it came to his friends.

Still, I didn't see why he immediately came to such a conclusion when it was obvious I'd been drugged. Surely he would have stayed, even just to make sure I was safe? Also, since he was a doctor he should have known that mental illness was in no way contagious. That begged the question, had John been in his right mind when he'd left? It didn't seem like he'd been drugged, but had the argument caused some kind of relapse that had made him believe that leaving was a good idea?

I would have to find him, and we would sort it out. There was no telling what kind of danger either of us was in, and it was logical therefore that we should stay together. 'Safety in numbers' as the saying went.

"I do believe that I was drugged, dear brother, and now I am going to find John. Do you have any idea where he went?" I asked Mycroft, and he gave me a knowing smile.

"I had guessed as much, if only John had opened his eyes to the fact as well. You are in luck, as I do in fact know for certain that he returned to your flat on Baker Street immediately after leaving. Not the brightest move, I'll admit, but he doesn't seem to have had any troubles so far."

I considered that for a moment, before thanking my brother (who I had finally found a use for) and exiting the room. I needed to find John, that was a given. From the sound of it, he was still alright, which was a miracle in itself, but I couldn't say he would be alright for much longer if I didn't do anything.

I didn't bother to collect any belongings before stealing one of Mycroft's many expensive-looking cars and driving as fast as it would let me. I had no care for the speed limit, even though a part of me was left looking out for police officers as I really didn't need a run in with Lestrade before I found John. I made it to Baker Street in one piece, and surprisingly without receiving any complaints about my driving. I barely stopped to close the car door before running towards the very familiar door that marked the entrance to my home.

However, it didn't seem to be my lucky day. Before I could even climb up the stairs that led to the door, I felt the familiar prick of a needle in my arm, and my vision started to go black around the edges. I fought to remain conscious with every bit of strength I possessed, but it was no use. I could feel the darkness of the sedative, and there was nothing I could do but let it pull me under.

I awoke later to find my headache had returned, along with the fogginess one only feels after being drugged. I opened my eyes to see that I was in an empty grey room, with the only contrast from the walls being the door directly in front of me. I stood slowly, allowing my brain to adjust to the feeling of being awake again. There was nothing I could deduce such as where I was or why I'd been brought there. However, the feeling that something was awfully, terribly wrong just wouldn't leave me.

I started to step towards the door to check whether it was locked, when I heard the familiar rattle of a key in a lock, and the door opened.

If I'd have known who was about to walk through that door, I would have braced myself. The face that grinned back at me, with dark soulless eyes and a smile that left shivers in even the toughest of men, was deathly familiar.

"Impossible!" I shouted accusingly at the man. "You're supposed to be dead..." I managed to choke out.

"No no no, Sherlock dear, it's you who should be dead! Oh, what an interesting game this turned out to be..." The voice brought back every nightmare I'd ever had since I met him, the all-too-familiar Irish lilt leaving me shaky and slightly nauseous.

Moriarty.

*Hands up if you had guessed something like this was going to happen* (You win an Internet brownie for being awesome at guessing story twists) Hehe, and guess what?! That's not even the best twist of the story! You'll find that out in a couple of chapters time, after something really bad happens... Stay tuned more more of this horrifically awful tale that is my fanfic! Reviews from anyone and everyone are appreciated, even if its to tell me you hate the story, although I'd prefer it if you kept hate-mail to a minimum, as I am actually a real person, and do have feelings! (*Gasp!* Who would have guessed?!)