Kidnapping Begins // Sherlock

It was the early evening and John had gotten off work earlier than what he usually does. On the way he stopped by his girlfriends to drop off something she left at his office while she was visiting for lunch. He found that the streets were unusually quiet, but instead of being alarmed he guessed that it was because the Prime Minister was giving one of his speeches again, or that there was a game on the telly.

Stepping up to the door John unlocked the door and stepped inside with a rather tired sigh. Closing the door the good doctor jogged up the stairs. Stopping at the door he looked at Sherlock with a mixture of concern and curiosity, "You look as though you have had a bad day. Is there something wrong Sherlock?"

John plopped down into his seat, looking straight at Sherlock. He could see that there was something wrong with the man, there was no way with the trained eyes of a soldier that Sherlock could hide it. The good doctor frowned lightly and leaned closer to the detective, "Sherlock what is the matter? You can tell me Sherlock." He had no idea as to what was going on, but he knew that whatever it was, the situation was troubling to the Detective. That much he knew.

Sherlock had gotten the call earlier that evening that he had 48 hours to deliver evidence to Harold Saxon about the files and gun he had found outside the London City Center. He had tried his hardest to get Sveta to leave, but he was unsuccessful with that and found that getting everyone relocated was far harder than he expected. People were being held captive and he had to deliver this threatening evidence to them in order to get them back, something that was not an easy decision. Save a few close friends at the cost of having England's government crumble was not exactly a decision he could make easily.

Hiding his face in his hands as he sat in his chair in a stressful manner, he sighed when John had asked him what was wrong, Shaking it off quickly, he swatted him off before looking back at his papers. The death of Rita Delong was on the front page of how she had been sniped from afar. Dread came over his face as he looked around for a moment, biting his lip. John then asked what was wrong again, to which he looked at him seriously.

"Nothing is wrong with me," he said quickly. "But something will be wrong with you if you don't get out of here." Getting up from his chair, he began to pace around the room in a frustrated manner, thinking of what he should do. "John, I need you to please leave London for a few nights. I can't say why, I just need you to trust that it is for your complete safety."

John bit back a low growl as Sherlock looked at him seriously, pretending that there was nothing wrong. But there was.. and John could see it as plain as day, even when Sherlock's expression told him something else. He could see it in the detective's eyes. Sherlock could pretend that there is nothing wrong all he wanted but Watson could see the truth.

The good doctor shot to his feet and stopped Sherlock in his tracks, his hands firmly placed on Sherlock's shoulders in a way that they can not be shrugged off or broken away from, "Sherlock.. I can see it in your eyes. There is something troubling you. You.. You can say that there is nothing wrong all you want. But you know as well as I do that I can tell that there is." He put his hands down but his gaze remained solid with Sherlock's, "I can't go running out of London if it is for something that will result in you getting killed Sherlock," John's voice broke as he continued to speak, "I already watched you die once. I can't do that again. I've already lost all of my other mates in Afghanistan. I can't lose another one.."

John stepped away wiping his eyes clean of the tears, "I am not leaving you Sherlock. If there is one thing that you must know about a soldier is that they never abandon their comrades Sherlock. Never! So this is me saying that I will not be running away because there is some crack shot aiming a bullet at me." John stiffened his jaw, looking Sherlock in the eyes again, "I.. am not leaving. You can knock me out or drug me. But you will just find me coming back."

Hearing the concern in his comrade's voice brought a bit of a stir in Sherlock's stomach as a clump formed in his throat. He felt incredibly guilty for having fooled Watson into believing he was dead for two years, but it was something that he had to do. Looking down for a moment, he sighed, feeling the hands on his shoulders as he avoided John's gaze. "I'm sorry. I know it was hard, but I had to do it."

When he had mentioned that he was not going anywhere if it meant that he could be killed, Sherlock shook his head with a crooked, cynical smile across his face, giving him a painful gaze. "John, I cannot risk you being killed. They need me alive, so it would be incredibly foolish of them to kill me under such silly terms. But they will stop at nothing to have the people whom I associate to be murdered. It is their way of ensuring that I... nevermind," he sighed, quickly stopping himself before he gave off too much information.

Moving away from the doctor, he stopped in front of the window, looking outside for a long moment, unsure of what his plan of action was going to be. He successfully had gotten his neighbors to leave town, but Sveta would not leave. She thankfully was with the safety of SHIELD though. Now he had to worry about his friends within the law enforcement, and John. John was going to be the hardest one of all to keep safe since he most often refused to leave Sherlock's side. "Please just do me a favor and try not to get involved and go into hiding..."