Chapter thirty four - Poloroid photo's.

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AN: Dedicated to KatnissOdairMellark for your votes. How's everyone doing? The video on the side is my ALS ice bucket challenge, watch it you want :)

Sorry for these recent AN's! I'm even annoying myself. Enjoy the chapter! Stay wonderful and stay shipping Hollylock and not Hollstian *inserts laughing face.*

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I told Sebastian I had to go right away. He seemed confused and asked me what was wrong, and I just told him it was a long story and that I would speak to him later. A part of me was wishing that Sherlock had only said what he told me on the phone just to get me back to the flat, because knowing him he would pull a stunt like this. I hoped that was the reason, but at the same time I knew it wasn't. I just hoped Mrs Hudson was okay.

It didn't take long for me to get back to 221B. There was an police car outside our apartment, and unfortunately, seeing a police car parked on the gutter outside our fat looked and felt too familiar. 

I opened the door and exhale, walking up stairs and into the living room. John and Sherlock we're talking to the police but immediately stop when they see me. I give them a slight shrug, confused to what was entirely going on. John whispers something to Sherlock and Sherlock nods. Sherlock continues talking to the police, an impassive look on his face as he told them information I couldn't quite make out. I step into the room more and John walks up to me, sighing.

"Mrs Hudson has been kidnapped."

"So I've heard," I comment, glancing at the other police men who were taking notes. "Where's Lestrade?"

"He's in a meeting." John replies. I pause, my lips shutting close. Lestrade was so much easier to talk to.

"How do you know shes been kidnapped?"

"Sherlock sort of deduced it. We haven't heard from her for almost a day. Sherlock went to asked her to get some milk but she wasn't in her flat. There were scratch marks on the wall, slight trace of blood-"

"Like, the amount of blood that would be there if you were punched? Maybe a nose bleed or something?"

"Seem's like that." John folds his arms, looking over at Sherlock and the police again, "Oh god, I hope they find her."

"Hmm." I mumbled, not sure what else to say. The police thank Sherlock and then walk past us, ready to leave. John smiles slightly and gives them a nod before they're gone, and Sherlock doesn't say anything.

"Where's Chester?" I question, breaking the silence.

"Uh, Sherlock told Billy to take him out while the police were here."

"He's looking after my dog more than me." I mutter. Sherlock ignores us both and goes over to the shelf where he left Erin's file. He grabs it and flicks through it, scanning the data hastily.

"What you doing?" John asks, hoping he had a plan. 

"I'm seeing if he had any hide outs that he told the police about, maybe something about Moriarty," He suddenly shuts the file and groans, "But nothing! If this was Moriarty he would have left a note, something that would be interesting. To sit back and watch us dance, but no. Nothing."

"So, are you saying this isn't Moriarty?" John inquires again, hope in his eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course its him."

"Then will you chill the heck out and enlighten us? We have no idea what's going on." I speak up. Sherlock chuck Erins file on the coffee table.

"Its Moriarty, it has to be. But he play's games, so surely he's left a clue to where she is or how much time we have until he-"

"Wait, we have a certain amount of time to save her?"

"Yes, that's the point."

John sighs, "Bloody hell."

"Well then, where do we start?" I raise my eyebrow, and Sherlock clicks his finger and points to the door.

"Her flat." He walks past us, brushing our arms and doesn't think twice to apologise. Me and John glance at each other before letting out another quiet, weary sigh. We follow him to Mrs Hudson's flat and Sherlock examines the place for anything he could have missed. Him and Sherlock walk into her living room where the blood was, and I walk into her kitchen. I didn't see much in here, just a few tea cups that needed to be washed. I walk out again slowly, walking towards the door. I don't see anything worth looking at, and roll my eyes at myself. Who am I kidding? I wouldn't be able to deduce like Sherlock does.

Irritated that we were probably going to lose Mrs Hudson, I harshly pick up some of her mail that she hadn't opened yet. When she was busy she kept her mail on the shelf above the radiator, like we did. I scan through them passively, casually looking over my shoulder as Sherlock and John begin to talk.

"Found anything?" I call as I pause looking through the mail, still holding them in my hands as I turn around.

"No." Sherlock calls back, and then walks out of the room, John trailing behind him. "You?"

"Nope." I shake my head no, then put the mail back on the shelf.

"Let's go then, we'll try find her another way." Sherlock walks forward and I step back slightly so the door doesn't hit me in the face as it opens. Sherlock walks out, and John mumbles a thanks to me while I open the door for them both. He leaves, and I take another glance around her flat for anything. But again, I see nothing.

I turn around to leave, reaching my arm out to shut the door but something catches my eye. I furrow my eyes and step into her flat again, looking at the pile of mail I put back on the shelf. I saw an envelope ontop of the pile of other mail and I could just about read the writing. I walked towards it and grabbed the letter.

The envelope read: 'Dearest Sherlock x'

It could just be some mail Mrs Hudson forgot to bring us. Maybe from Mycroft? Nonetheless I rip the letter open and a bunch of photo's taken from a polaroid camera fall out and onto the floor. I crouch down and pick one up, turning the picture around and see the picture is Mrs Hudson in Speedy's, smiling and talking to another woman. I pick up another photo, confused, and see that it was another photo taken of Mrs Hudson of her entering our flat. She was wearing a different outfit so they were taken on different days. I hold both the photos in one hand and pick up another, seeing this one was of me and Mary chatting his Mrs Hudson outside of Speedy's. There were at least five more photo's left, and obviously they were all off Mrs Hudson.

"Are you coming or not?" Sherlock questions, poking his head through the door. I look at him and his face falls when he see's the photo's I'm holding, and then walks further into the room and crouches down next to me, picking up another photo. Again, it was of Mrs Hudson.

"Look's like she had a stalker." I point out the obvious, picking up the other photo's. I was about to stand up and bring them back to 221B, but then I notice that one of the photo's is different than the others. It was the only picture in the envelope that wasn't of Mrs Hudson. Whoever took these pictures took a picture of a table, well I assumed it was a table. I could only see the wood. But someone had engraved a message onto the wood with a knife, and it read:

'Let's play another game, Sherlock :)'

Lets Play A Game - Sherlock Fanfiction [Sequel to IBIY]Where stories live. Discover now