Missing Piece - BBC Sherlock (Johnlock) *finally completed*

Chapter 6

That night Sherlock hadn't slept for a second. When the sun rose and its rays hit the inside of the flat, Sherlock had already drunk his fifth coffee and waited anxiously for the postman to arrive. When he did a few hours later, Sherlock rushed downstairs, almost falling over his own feet and snatched the mail away from the surprised postman. He quickly looked them through and threw everything except one brown envelope on the floor. It was a regular envelope, one you could buy in every store. Then he rushed back into the living room and tore it open.

Sherlock's blood froze and his heart skipped a fearful beat at the content of it.

 A DVD.

There weren't many possibilities for what could be on it if not John. In fact nothing feasible came to his mind. Sherlock opened John's laptop and opened the disc slot after placing it on the table. He placed the DVD inside and with a slightly shaking hand he pressed play.

His sucked in his breath as he saw John tied to a chair and some masked guy with a knife beside him. Everything in Sherlock screamed to stop the video right away, but his body wouldn't move. His eyes were glued to John's body and the bloody streaks the knife left behind.

Sherlock clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He needed to watch this. Perhaps there was something. Some sort of clue. Anything that could help him find John.

His eyes roamed over John's pale face. It was almost more unbearable than to look at the wounds John was inflicted with. Sherlock could see that John tried not to let on how badly the guy hurt him. Could see how John gritted his teeth, so that no more pained noises could escape his lips. His brave John.

And then realization hit Sherlock. It was as if someone had punched him in the stomach. John had known! He had known that they would send the video to Sherlock. That was why John tried to stay quiet. Always caring John. Although he had been in such a horrifying situation, he still thought about Sherlock.

A pang of guilt washed through him.  It was his entire fault. No. Sherlock clenched his jaw. Now was not the time to wallow in assignments of guilt. But still-

John's scream ripped him out of his useless thoughts. He went pale and his hands started to tremble once again. With horror-stricken eyes, Sherlock looked at John's pain twisted face and then his eyes wandered towards the knife that stuck in his doctor's leg.

Then the screen went black, but he could still see John's face in his mind's eye. These bastards should better be prepared or far, far away when Sherlock got there. Otherwise he could neither be old responsible nor guarantee for what he would do to them.

Caring wasn't an advantage? Sherlock would do anything and use any means that were necessary to get his John back safely. Alive. Sherlock corrected himself grimly. It was out of the question that he wouldn't be able to do so. Sherlock shuddered at the mere thought to have to continue living without John. It was the first time that Sherlock had felt something like that for another person. He couldn't live without his work, without solving crimes but the thought of being alone had never bothered him before. Until John showed up.

Text appeared on the previous black screen. Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts and read.

Dear Mr. Holmes, I hope my little message inspired you to dedicate the now following task your full attention. As you have noticed, I like riddles as do you. I don't have much to live for and I welcomed this opportunity to ease my boredom. I'm sure you can understand that necessity to escape boredom.

One of the few things I value is art and as it happened a few priceless pieces have been stolen from a museum. The list of the pieces will follow at the end of my short message.

Retrieve them and I guarantee that the doctor will be returned safely (more or less). Good thing he is a doctor. As soon as his current state allows him, I'm sure he is willing to help us treat the wounds. Try to find were I hid him and he'll die. 

. 'After the Derby' by J.Sanderson Wells

. 'Looking South from Near Red Brow Towards Rosthawaite' by John Constable

. 'Pond near Byfleet Surrey' by Sydney R Percy

I hope they are back where they belong soon.

Sherlock gaped in disbelief and rage. All that for a few useless paintings? Oh, how he wished he had a corpse to use his riding crop on.