I Don't Deserve You (A Johnlock Fic)

Chapter Eight

"Sherlock."

The quiet, urgent tone that John used jolted Sherlock out of his mind palace immediately.

He had been happily analysing last nights date - It had surprisingly gone very well, and when they got home he had played his violin for John.

"What's wrong?"

"Greg's missing, he wasn't at work this morning and his house is empty. He would have called if he was doing something else."

John was obviously very worried about the missing man and Sherlock felt himself frowning in concern.

"It's okay John, we'll find Greg. Tell me about him - work, personal life, you know the drill."

John huffed and glared at him, gritting his teeth slightly. Sherlock searched his face uncertainly, he had obviously said something wrong, but he had no idea what. He was just trying to help.

"Greg, Sherlock. Lestrade, Inspector Lestrade."

"Oh, is Greg his name?"

"Yes, Sherlock. He's missing. We have to find him."

John moved over to the window and crossed his arms, staring out at the rain with a pained look on his face.

After a moments hesitation Sherlock walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing the top of his head.

"We'll get him back, John. I promise."

.................

"When was the last time anyone saw him? Who saw him last?"

Sherlock watched as John asked the questions, observing the officers every move.

Worried. Incompetent. Nervous. Shifty. Confused. Fearful. Guilty? Innocent.

"I think it was Anderson, sometime last night? I don't know when exactly."

John threw Sherlock a sideways glance and he nodded. This man couldn't help them anymore.

They had a lead at least, Anderson, Anderson. Hopefully he would be of some use for once in his life.

............

"Look I don't know what to tell you, I don't know anything. We were having a drink last night, and when we were finished he went home in a cab. I took the next one and haven't heard from him since."

Concerned. Truthful.

"Did you get the licence plate number?"

Anderson shook his head. "Look, I don't know much, and I know that you don't like me, but if there's anything - and I mean anything, that I can do to help - let me know. Greg's my friend."

John took a step forward and squeezed Anderson's shoulder, giving him a sad smile.

"I know, Philip. We will find him - He's our friend too."

..............

Lestrades house looked clean.

Almost too clean.

Nothing appeared to be wrong, there were a few items scattered around but nothing that suggested something sinister had occurred.

There was no blood, no signs of force being used (and as a member of the police force Lestrade would be able to defend himself, if he needed to).

So either he had been intercepted between where the cab dropped him and his house, or he had been taken by whoever was driving the cab.

The latter was the theory Sherlock was inclined to believe, although from what he had gathered from Anderson they had been drinking quite a lot, therefore it was possible that he could have been overcome without much difficulty.

Several more possibilities came to light. Perhaps the bartender had drugged him, made things easier for the kidnapper. Maybe the attacker had been friendly and Lestrade's overly intoxicated brain didn't recognise the danger in time.

Unless...... They didn't need to pretend. What if it was someone that he already trusted? A friend, a co-worker, family, a look alike of someone even.

"Sherlock? Have you found anything yet?"

Sherlock looked over to Johns hopeful face. He really believed that he could solve anything, his eyes said it all.

Sherlock shook his head slightly and Johns expression tightened. "We'll find him," he muttered quietly, probably more to himself than Sherlock.

"John....." Sherlock muttered, casting his head down in shame. He knew John had expected him to take one look and know exactly what had happened. He had let him down.

"There are possibilities, but I need more then this. There is almost nothing of use here."

John smiled sadly and walked over to squeeze his hand reassuringly. "I know, I'm sorry Sherlock."

He stood up on his toes to kiss Sherlock quickly and Sherlock felt warmth and confidence blossom inside him.

"I will find him John, I promise."

Sherlock's phone rang and John squeezed his hand one last time before moving away to give him some space.

Sherlock took a deep breath in and pulled his phone out of his pocket, answering it curtly.

All the colour in his face drained away at the callers words. John noticed and walked back over, frowning.

"I understand."

Sherlock hung up and slipped the phone away, sitting down unsteadily.

"What happened? Are you okay? Sherlock?" Johns worried voice broke through and Sherlock looked up, still in shock.

"Yes, no - It's Mycroft. He's missing."