Chapter Nine

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The silence in the cab was deafening.

After a few more pointless hours spent searching Lestrade's house for possible clues they had gone to Mycroft's apartment.

It was the exact same. Nothing had been moved, there was no sign of struggle, nothing.

It was almost as if the two had disappeared into thin air, or decide to take an unexpected vacation together without telling anyone.

Sherlock was frowning out the window, supposedly trying to work it out in his mind palace.

John's mind on the other hand was filling up with all the terrible things that could be happening to Greg and Mycroft.

Maybe they were being tortured, screaming for help somewhere no one could possibly hear them.

Why would they be tortured anyway? Information? Or was it more personal then that?

What did they have in common? A connection to Sherlock, his mind hissed.

Did you miss me?

Moriarty's message bounced around in his mind but he shook his head firmly, trying to dispel the thought.

Moriarty was dead - Sherlock was sure of it and John was sure of Sherlocks judgement.

This did not stop him worrying the whole way home.

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

"You have an idea. What is it?"

John was pulled out of his musings by Sherlocks sharp tone.

He looked to see Sherlock examining him carefully. "There's no point keeping quiet." He added softly and John let out a breath.

"Moriarty,"

"No."

Sherlock didn't even think about it and his tone was final, which just made John want to argue his point more.

"Think about it Sherlock, Moriarty wants to hurt you. What better way then kidnap your brother and one of your only friends?"

"Moriarty is dead." Sherlock said coldly, turning to look out the window again. "Besides, Lestrade is not my friend."

Joh let out an annoyed breath. "Of course not, I almost forgot. You don't have friends."

Something in John's tone apparently set the warning bells off because Sherlock swung around to face him again, looking bewildered.

"I've upset you."

John huffed and crossed his arms. "Sherlock, would it kill you to just pretend to be human from time to time?"

"I am human," Sherlock muttered quietly. "I'm sorry that I think differently to most people."

John let out a harsh laugh, "No you're not, you love it."

He turned away and missed the despairing look that crossed Sherlock's face with his words.

"John, please. I want them back as much as you do."

John let out a breath and sat down unsteadily, closing his eyes. "I know, I'm sorry."

Sherlock took an uncertain step forward but then hesitated. Was this a time John needed physical comfort? Or would that just make things worse?

In the end Sherlock decided just to be selfish. Even if John didn't need comfort from him, he needed comfort from John.

It only took another step to reach him and he lay a hand lightly on his shoulder.

John's eyes opened and he gazed up at Sherlock in confusion for a moment, then his gaze softened and he reached up to cover Sherlocks hand with his own.

"I'm sorry, I know you're worried about them too."

"I will figure it out, I have to. I just.... I don't know why..... I just can't seem to get it. I need more, more information, more clues."

Sherlock silently prayed for John to understand, he couldn't bear his disappointment.

John stood and wrapped his arms around his waist, laying his head on his chest. "It's okay, we will get then back but please, don't push yourself too much. You're doing everything you can."

Sherlock held tightly onto John, onto his life line.

"Would you like a cup of tea before bed?"

Sherlock frowned in confusion, "Bed? its not that late yet."

John withdrew from his embrace and Sherlock felt unusually cold without him.

"No, but you're tired. Go, get ready for bed and I'll bring you your tea."

Sherlock considered arguing but decided against it. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally upset John.

"Okay, Thank you."

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

Sherlock paced the small bedroom impatiently, trying to force his mind to focus.

He didn't know what was wrong with him, normally he didn't have any problems with being able to figure things out.

He felt like it was right there, so obvious, but no matter how far he reached he simply could not grasp it.

It was frustrating to say the least.

The door opened slowly and John walked in with two cups of tea. He handed one to Sherlock, who took it with a nod of thanks before sitting down.

John hesitated. He glanced towards the door, then thought better of it and sat next to Sherlock.

They drank their tea in silence, and when they had finished they put the cups aside and John placed a hesitant hand on Sherlocks knee.

"Are you okay?"

Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes, leaning slightly towards him.

John wrapped him in a tight hug and he leaned into it, resting his head on Johns shoulder.

"Thank you, John."

"It's okay. You should get some sleep though. Its been a long day."

He got up to leave but Sherlock grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Wait, John. Do you have to go?"

John frowned. "You need to sleep Sherlock."

"Yes, but so do you. Can you stay and sleep here? With me?"

Johns expression softened and he nodded. "Okay Sherlock."

They lay down and John turned away from him, pulling the sheets up the his chin and closing his eyes.

"Goodnight Sherlock."

"Goodnight John."

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