Stolen (Sherlock's POV)

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I paced about the flat and nearly flung myself at the door when I heard the key twisting in the lock.

"John?" I called out anxiously. I only got a mumbled moan in response. The door clicked shut and John walked into the living room. He still wore his coat and his hands were stuffed deeply into the pockets and the collar turned up so that it came to his nose when he ducked his chin.

"John?" Something was wrong. He just nodded in my direction as he slunk into the bathroom, looking like he had done something terrible. I stood in the middle of the living room, eyes locked on the bathroom door.

"Sherlock?" His voice sounded muffled and embarrassed.

"Yes John?" I quickly scampered over to the door to hear him better.

"What did Moriarty want?"

"Oh, well..." I didn't really want to tell him, "What happened to you?" I changed the topic.

"If I come out, will you tell me?" A large sigh accompanied his words.

"Of course." The bathroom door slowly pulled open. John stood there with his head raised high, but his eyes cast to the floor and cheeks emblazoned with red. I gasped at the sight. Bits of brick were crumbled into his hair. Knees were scuffed and hands scrapped. Small bruises on his wrists. But his lip. His bottom lip was swollen and there was a bleeding cut underneath it, surrounded in an almost black purple hue.

"I cleaned most of it off." He muttered, wincing.

"John?" I took an involuntary step forward. My hand reached up and my finger brushed the cut gently. John cringed but did nothing more.

"It's...It's...nothing" He stammered.

"Who did this?" I growled. John's eyes flickered to mine in surprise at the sudden hostility in my voice.

"What does Moriarty want?" John countered. I debated for a moment, whether to tell him or not.

"You." I decided that lying or withholding the truth from John would only ensue more pain for the both of us.

"So he wasn't lying." John shuddered.

"It was him." It wasn't a question. John only nodded.

"I'm gonna shift, can't deal with this by being human." He laughed forlornly. It seemed that anytime the stress or something grew too sad John would shift to a dog. In an instant Ridgely, as I internally referred to him when he was a hound, was trotting past me. His tail was tucked between his legs and ears pressed flat against his head. He was a gorgeous dog. His fur was a deep honey color with splotches of gray on his paws. His ears were both a dark red and eyes chocolate brown. He looked back at me once before leaping onto the couch and curling up. He whined and whimpered. Even in this form you could still see blood on his fur where Moriarty had bitten him.

"Oh John." I sighed and sat on the couch beside him. I pulled him closer and allowed him to squeeze himself onto my lap. I ran my hands through his short silky fur and listened to his sighs.

"I won't let Moriarty get you. I promise." I whispered as he fell asleep. As he did so, he began to shift back to John. I slid out from under him while he was still mostly dog and grabbed some pajamas for him to wear, slipping them onto him before he was even fully human. I then proceed to carry him up to our bed. I quietly snuggled up with him as I fell asleep.


"Bloody hell!" John's rough and sleep laced voice pulled me instantly from my slumber.

"Jawn?" I shot up and looked wildly about until I saw him.

"He left me a gift." John turned to me, face devoid of all color.

"What is it?" I leapt from the bed and to John's side. He stood by the small desk under the window. In his hands was a long black box with a red ribbon tied artfully upon its shining surface. A small little square of paper hung off of the ribbon. The words 'for my lovely John. Jim x.' were written neatly in cursive on the cream paper.

"Should I open it?" He shuffled back until his back was pressed against my chest. My breathing stuttered as I hurriedly gathered my fleeing thoughts.

"Y-yes." I stammered. I could feel a blush trying to color my face. John took a deep breath as he carefully untied the ribbon. It fluttered to the ground, seeming almost like an omen. He then pulled the lid off of the box, revealing a long red rose. I rested my chin on John's shoulder and leaned down to get a closer look. Under the rose was white tissue paper, speckled with a dried red liquid.

"Blood." I murmured.

"His?" He inquired with a quivering voice.

"I would assume so." I kept my voice quiet, trying to keep the anger out of it, "I can test it if you want me to."

"Yes." John shuddered against me and I reached around him. Carefully, I pulled the box from his pale hands and set it back on the table. He seemed shocked to say the least. He continued to just stand there, unmoving and staring at the rose with a look of wonder and horror.

"I...I...gotta get" John spun around suddenly and raced past me, his shoulder thwacking into mine and sending him spinning as he thumped into the bedroom door.

"John!" I called out and raced after him, "It's not safe!" Throwing myself into the living room I caught the barest glimpse of John as he slipped out the door and slammed it behind him.

"Jawn." I moaned. My little hedgehog had ran away. That panther of man would get him somehow, Moriarty always got his way. I paced the flat, grumbling loudly enough to cause Mrs. Hudson to race into my room.

"Sherlock?" Her old and sweet voice inquired as she hobbled her way in. She was so ordinary, so oblivious.

"What?" I snapped, feeling the need to smoke.

"What's the matter, dear?" Mrs. Hudson nosed her way into my room and my problems.

"Nothing." I growled. She just chuckled and waddled into my kitchen.

"Definitely not." She suddenly turned her full attention on the fridge as she began to rummage through it, starting when the dead stare of another head glared at her from the top shelf, "What happened to John? He had a bruise on his chin. Did bang it on something?" She glanced at me as she pulled the milk from the fridge, careful to keep her hand from brushing the gray cheek of the poor resident of my fridge.

"Onmoriarty'steeth." I mumbled in a rush under my breath.

"Hmmm?" She hummed. She started to make a nice cupa.

"Yes, he banged it on something." I growled and flung myself into the couch, lying across all of it and facing away from the rest of the room.

"Did you two have a domestic?" She giggled. I just gave off a guff of air in an annoyed sigh.

"I wish it was just that. And that we were actually together." I thought self pityingly. My phone suddenly rang abruptly from the table and Mrs. Hudson managed to read the text in the time it took me to trip over the coffee table in front of the couch, bear crawl over to the kitchen table and lunge upward to grasp the phone in my shaking hands.

"Oh my god! Sherlock! Was that the Jim Moriarty?" She somehow continued to make the tea as she fretted.

"Yes." I read the text and roared.

"Johnny Boy is gonna miss work today. Sorry Sherlock! Jim Moriarty x."

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson's lower lip trembled as I flung the phone into my pajama bottom pocket.

"I'm getting John!" I yelled as I threw on my scarf and coat before dashing out to the exclamations of worry from the old woman.

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