Saving Grace(A Sherlock/BBC Fan-fiction)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Magnussen

        I wheeled my suitcase down the sidewalk. I was called in for a case that was requested my attention and mine alone. The guy was good, and I couldn't get Sherlock's help because he won't answer his flipping phone. I'd been gone for a month. That's when my phone rang. I sighed and answered it.

        "Hello?"

        "Hello, dear sister-in-law. How was your holiday?" 

        "The month long murder case was brilliant, Mycroft. Thanks for asking." I said sarcastically.

        "I'm afraid I must request a favour." 

        "Mycroft, I just got back. I would kind of like to see my husband first."

        'I'm afraid this pertains to your husband."

        "How?" I asked.

        "Your husband hasn't been back to Baker Street since you left a month ago."

        "Well...where do you suppose he is?"

        "I just hope I'm wrong." 

~~~

        "John?" I pulled into the parking lot of the address Mycroft gave me. John was standing by a car, which I now saw, contained his pregnant wife. "Mary? What in the world are you two doing here?"

        "I'm looking for someone. What are you doing here?" John asked.

        "I'm on a mission for Mycroft."

        'What is it this time?"

        'Oh...you can imagine." We approached the door and knocked on it.

        "Hello!"

        "What do you want?" He asked.

        "Excuse me." I pushed past him into the house.

        "You can't be in here."

        "I'm looking for someone." I told him. 

        "You gotta go. No ones allowed here." 

        'Issac Whitney, you seen him?" John asked. The man pulled a knife. I just laughed, and grabbed his arm, wrenching it back and spraining it. John hooked his leg with his foot and kicked it out from under him, causing him to sink to the floor. 

        "I do believe the man asked you a question."

        "You broke my arm." He groaned.

        "No, she sprained it, there's a difference."

        "Answer the question or I'll sprain the other one!" I yelled.

        'I don't know! Maybe upstairs." I went up, John close behind me. It was horrible. Everyone was high out of their minds, lying on mattresses on the floor.

        "Issac? Issac Whitney? Issac." A man groaned and raised his hand. "Hello mate, sit up for me. Sit up." I looked around, looking for Sherlock.

        "Dr. Watson?"

        'Yup."

        'Where am I?" Issac asked.

        "With the scum of the earth."

        'Have you come for me?" 

        "Do you think I know a lot of people here? Alright, come on."