Professor Moriarty wasn't at school the next day and Sherlock spent the whole day in conflict over going to the Headmaster or to Lestrade. But, he knew that Moriarty had been serious in his threat to harm Sherlock. Now, the potions professor could care less if he was harmed, but Jim Moriarty knew that, and that meant John was the logical target.

Sherlock's anxious mood spilled over to his teaching atmosphere, and his students flubbed up all day, the Longbottom student almost blowing up the whole classroom in his clumsiness. At the end of that class period, Sherlock, Neville, and one other student had to spend an hour with Madam Pomfrey getting patched up. Sherlock was very unhappy, complaining that he was going to have to pick soot out of his eyebrows for weeks. That comment caused the other student, who had black soot tangled in her long blond hair, to start to cry and claw at the blemishes in her curls. Sherlock was given a band-aid for the cut on his forehead and asked to leave.

John wasn't home when Sherlock got there, which was strange, because it had been the healer's day off from St. Mungo's. Sherlock turned the light on in the flat, and, upon seeing the living room, he spun around and tried not to be sick into Mrs. Hudson's hall plant.

Gladstone's throat had been slit, and blood pooled all over the carpet. Black soot covered one wall of the flat, and there was an obvious sign of struggle. Sherlock dropped his things and looked around for any indication that John was out at the store or out with Sarah or Lestrade. Nothing.

Sherlock was getting worried. Where was John? His answer came in the form of a raven patronus gliding through the walls of 221B Baker Street. John's voice came streaming out of the misty beak.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm so changeable. I can't let you continue, and you know exactly why. I-" There was a long pause, and Sherlock heard a harsh growl. "I told you I would burn the heart out of you, but I won't do it without an audience." John's voice wasn't wavering, but Sherlock knew he was nervous. "Sherlock, don't-" John was cut off and it was Moriarty that spoke now. "Not just any audience. A captive one is always better." The patronus faded and Sherlock felt a heavy object connect with the back of his skull, sending him into darkness.