_*_*_Lestrade_*_*_
"Where has that bastard gone?!" Greg raged.
Him and his team had arrived at the Dekin warehouse twenty minutes after Sherlock had raced from the Yard but the damnable man was nowhere to be seen.
"The Freak is missing? What a shame…" Donavan said sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"Donavan!" Lestrade snapped watching her glare at him, "Shut up!" She huffed but remained quiet Anderson added his glare.
"Sir we don't know," a lesser detective answered as a few others milled around the empty warehouse.
"There was definitely someone here recently," Anderson chimed in.
Greg glanced to find the man near the chair surrounded by a damp floor. Lestrade couldn't help but roll his eyes even he could figure that one out without help.
Been spending too much time with Sherlock.
"Well people let's get searching we need a hint of where he might have gone," Greg instructed his eyes running over the chair then to the hose.
Torture
He concluded a pit forming in his stomach. Sherlock must have come here and got John but if that had happened the D.I. would have heard something so Sherlock must have come here, John was already gone, and the kidnappers sent some sort of clue to the consulting detective of where to go next.
Suddenly an erupting explosion sound vibrated through the air shaking the ground slightly Lestrade was shocked and everyone had frozen looking around in a panic. Glancing towards the sound Greg ran for the open door. Outside over the tops of the buildings he could see a giant fireball and smoke filling the sky.
"Sherlock, John," Lestrade gasped in horror as he and his team sprinted for their vehicles.
_*_*_Mycroft_*_*_
A quiet day, it wasn't normally quiet. How can it be so quiet?
Mycroft was annoyed. He never had a quiet day.
This was the government for God sakes!
Mycroft began pacing in his office rubbing his chin. The famous umbrella of his perched gracefully next to the chair behind his desk.
Something is wrong, something is going on!
That indeed was a strange thought there was little going on in the world that Mycroft didn't know about. London was his main focus but there was something going on that bewildered the head of the government.
Sherlock must have some idea.
That singular thought stopped Mycroft in his tracks. Sherlock knowing something that Mycroft didn't was truly an unfathomable idea. It all started when those strange murders started showing up. Something seemed to snap and things in London started to fade. Mycroft wasn't seeing the usual reports anymore most of them had nothing in them.
Anthea even showed a little amount of worry from behind her blackberry. "Not good," she had said a few days ago.
Not good was an understatement.
Mycroft was livid "There has to be something we are missing!" he spoke out loud returning to his pacing.
When Mycroft's office door flew open without so much as a knock he knew something catastrophic had happened. A young agent stood in the doorway his hair disheveled and the look of pure fright on his face was enough for Mycroft to know it was much worse than he might conceive.
"Sir," the man started breathless, "There has been an explosion." Mycroft crossed the small space in two long strides coming almost chest to chest with the young man.
"Where?" the head of government questioned.
The man took a visible gulp "The Site, sir." The agent answered tensely.
Mycroft's eyes widened in understanding. The Site the one place in London that he had hoped would go unnoticed.