While Sherlock got Jayden onto the futon and comfortable, Lestrade made two cups of tea.
"Cuppa?" Lestrade offered.
"Thank you." Sherlock said quietly, as he accepted the glass.
Lestrade sat down in one of the two chairs in the living room, not counting the couch, and Sherlock sat in the other.
As they drank their tea, Lestrade noticed that Sherlock seemed a little listless, more interested in his mind, than in the world around it.
"What are you thinking?" Lestrade asked.
Sherlock shrugged, looking up slowly, in a way that Lestrade thought much resembled a cat.
"Just running over what happened." Sherlock said, then looked back to his tea, rubbing his fingers around the front of the cup. He took a sip. A moment of silence passed there, but Lestrade's mind was still moving.
"I may not have a telepathic link with you like John does, but I do know you, Sherlock." Lestrade said. "I have for a long time. Longer than anyone else I can think of."
Lestrade said all of this with an underlying tone of which Sherlock was very used to hearing from John. Sherlock mentally called it the, "What aren't you telling me?" tone. Sighing, Sherlock returned his attention to Lestrade. He really didn't want to discuss it, especially not until he figured out more.
"It's nothing, just... something's off." Sherlock said.
"With the scene?"
Sherlock nodded, his face taking a look that Lestrade hadn't seen before. It was a thinking look, obviously, but it was different than his usual. Lestrade wasn't sure what to make of it yet.
"Not just that, the whole thing is... strange." Sherlock said, then sighed. "I don't know how to explain it."
"You don't need to." Lestrade said. "I know what your talking about. Feels like something's nibbling at your ear, does it? Like you know something's there but can't figure out what."
"Interestingly described Lestrade, but yes," Sherlock said, "I do believe we're talking about the same thing."
"It's got a name you know." Lestrade said. "You won't like it though."
"Won't I?" Sherlock asked passively.
"You would probably call it intuition," Lestrade said, "But most would say it's a gut feeling."
"There is a difference, Lestrade." Sherlock said.
"Hm?"
"All gut feelings are tools of intuition, but not all intuition is gut feelings. Intuition is considered seeing arch types and common themes, thus being able to guess, usually quite accurately, what will happen next in that particular circumstance." Sherlock explained. "Intuition develops when you're subconsciously processing evidence and coming to a conclusion in mere moments. The downfall of intuition is that most will have no idea what the evidence was on which they based their conclusion. In this case, there is no thought process to my uneasiness. As much as I would like to say otherwise, what is bothering me is most definitely classified a gut feeling."
Sherlock stopped there, suddenly uncomfortable for a moment.
"I took a class in Uni when I went," Lestrade said, "And my professor took three weeks to teach us what intuition is, and he didn't explain it half as well as you just have in five sentences."
For an unknown reason, even to himself, Sherlock flushed slightly at the praise.
"I didn't think you liked psychology." Lestrade said. "It changes all the time, it's not a hard science."
"I often use softer sciences, they're necessary to deduction." Sherlock said quietly. "Things like psychology, sociology, religion, all of them play a part. I suppose the science of deduction, could be accurately called a soft science. I find the conclusion with soft sciences, and prove them with hard ones."
"Hmm..." Lestrade said. "Well that'll give me something to think about tonight, not that I don't already have enough on my mind."
Sherlock smirked, and Lestrade knew he had accomplished his mission. He had been trying to make Sherlock smile, but not that he would ever admit it.
As much as Sherlock would like to appear as though he was unshaken by John's kidnapping, Lestrade knew he was.
"Well, we'd best be getting to sleep." Lestrade said. "See you in the morning."
Sherlock nodded, and drank the last of his tea, before slipping in next to Jayden on the futon.
Lestrade flipped the light off, then said goodnight, and all went quiet.
Sherlock lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, and feeling a little bit guilty.
He had lied to Lestrade. Well, not entirely, but partially.
Something did feel off with the case, but that's not the thought that had been rotating in his mind.
It was that moment when that little clip of memory seeped into his mind. It was strange, the fear, the terror that little clip brought to him. Even considering the time in which he had remembered it, the emotion it brought was still unfitting. But it wasn't just fear that radiated from that memory, anger and ambition showed their faces, as well as deception and... what was that? Hurt? Pain? Something like that?
Those emotions weren't entirely unsuitable for the situation, but Sherlock felt extremely guilty that the clip was the source of them, and not John's disappearance. There were, of course, emotions rooted in that as well, which only multiplied the pull of the irrational, emotionally based part of Sherlock's mind. Emotions didn't bode well for him, they never had.
Sherlock tried desperately to relax, but his mind was smothered with thoughts, all of them blurring together due to exhaustion, and never becoming ideas.
Where is John?
Is he alright?
Is he hurt?
Where did that memory come from?
How can I see more of it?
Do I even want to?
Sleep finally graced him two torturous hours later.
John plopped himself onto Mycroft's cold leather couch.
"How long do I have to stay here?" he asked, looking around the mansion.
"A week, give or take." Mycroft said. "It will give me the necessary time to prepare for the climax of the trick."
"A week?!" John exclaimed. "How much have you changed my plan?! I- I was only supposed to be 'kidnapped' for an hour!"
"I figured it could use a bit of a tune up." Mycroft said. "Plus, it's much more fun this way. So, get settled. You'll be here awhile. He's already alerted the detective inspector..."
"Greg." John supplied. "And of course he has. Lestrade is always his backup if I can't be. It only makes sense that he's the first person he would contact."
"Hm..." Mycroft hummed. "Sherlock and Jayden seem to be staying with him until the flat has been investigated, repaired, and cleaned entirely."
"Repaired? Cleaned?" John asked. "What have you done to our flat?!"
John's face was taking on a crimson shade, and reverting to the expression he usually only used when he was absolutely furious with Sherlock.
"Relax, Doctor, my team will make sure everything that was broken is replaced." Mycroft said. "It will all be worth it in the end. Just give it time."
A/N: So, what did you think of that? Was that interesting? I liked it, so I hope so. Anyway, reviews please!