Random Helpful Drunks (Sherlock's POV)

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"John?" My voice was stone hard, no emotion.

"Sherlock." John responded, growling. Everything in me was used to lock away my feelings.

"Where are you?"

"I can't tell you, if I do Ch-ch-she dies." He gasped obviously something had pained him or grabbed him, I could only imagine what was going on, "No! Don't!" He suddenly shouted, voice growing dimmer.

"Hi there Sherwock." A high pitched, buttered voice sang tauntingly.

"Moriarty." I almost slipped back into my delirium of emotions.

"You sound so cold, Sherlock! Is it because you're hurting?" James asked mockingly.

"Where are you?" I asked, sounding almost calm. I was stripping the crevice where my heart had once resided bare. My heart was now safely locked away, only to be brought out when John was once again here and safe.

"Oh Sherlock! Like I'd ever tell you!" He answered giddily. There was sudden silence on the phone and a muffled sound of protest as James moved about on the other side of the conversation.

"Tell me." I barked, completely devoid of any human qualities I had once possessed.

"Nope." Moriarty purred, giving the impression of a panther waiting to pounce.

"Will John be hurt?" I cursed at myself for letting even that tiny amount of emotion to worm itself into a question.

"He won't be hurt in any...interesting activities...yet." He laughed, but it was cut short suddenly as he harshly told someone to shut her trap before he pulled the trigger. A gun could be heard cocking.

"If I don't find him..." I could only imagine what I would do. The woman who had come out to calm me down was now staring at me in shock and befuddlement.

"Goodbye, Sherly." The call ended. I stood there for a while staring at the phone screen.

"Thank you." I clicked her phone shut and handed it back.

"What...?" She started.

"Do not ask." I warned her, cutting her off, "But can I charge my phone at your place?"

"I...ummm...guess?" She shook her head, squinting in the sunlight and looking like she just wanted to sleep her hangover away, "What kinda phone is it?"

"Just a newer generation iPhone." I shrugged.

"Oookay." She dragged it out as she contemplated what she was doing. I followed close behind her as she walked up the sagging steps to a depleted house. Shingles were missing on the roof, paint was peeling, shutters hung crooked and everything looked like it was in desperate need of some care. Inside wasn't any better. She refused to turn on any lights. The carpets were all patterned with spills and grime. Everything smelled of mold and rot. The couch was ripping at the seams and stuffing was slowly falling out. Drugs and needles were scattered on the carpet and the wobbly coffee table. The couch and table were the only forms of furniture visible. Three large windows covered the wall opposite of the door. Under one of the smoke covered windows was a phone charger. She was obviously both a heavy drinker and druggie.

"There you go." Her voice was starting to slur as she pointed at the charger. I scampered over to it and plugged my phone in, praying for it to hurry up. The drunk stared at me for a while before muttering to herself and plodding her way into her kitchen. When she returned she held a bottle of beer in both hands. I looked at her with disgust. After multiple times of John reprimanding me heartily for my drug usage, I began to hate it as well. Beer was just a lighter strength of my normal drugs.

"Want some?" She asked after chugging away at one of the bottles.

"Never." I responded. I was proud to hear that no emotion under coated my words.

"More for me." She laughed drunkenly. I only shook my head. Suddenly my phone turned on. I quickly opened up John's text but saw that the little map was gone completely. Before I could freak out another message caused my phone to vibrate in my hands. I looked at it cautiously, a picture had just been sent from a random number. I curiously opened it up, making sure that anything human in me was locked away with my heart. In my mind palace it was kept below even Moriarty. I came back to reality to open up my phone and view the picture. It was of John. He sat in an antique looking chair. A price tag was held in one of John's hands. The wrists of John were tied firmly to the arms of the chair. His eyes were squinted and blood was present on his bottom lip. A dark black bruise was enveloping the lip as well. His hair was mused back into the little hedgehog spikes. The background was a cement wall.

"Warehouse...abandoned, about, two years..." I looked at the fading painting on the wall, the icon of the company, "A...hmmm...dolphin..." There also were some boxes on the side, their shipping information printed on the side, "Boxes came from a boat, so it's on the docks."

"What are you doing?" Her voice was increasing in its drunkenness but hadn't yet reached slurring.

"Deducing." I answered quickly, "Gonna need to zoom in on this picture, find out everything." My phone had already reached 50% while I had been deducing and running through my mind palace. I closed the picture and noticed that a text had come in from an unknown number;

"If Jim finds out I sent this, we all die! Do not respond. Ch."

"Alrighty, you're crazy!" The woman laughed, pointing at me with her full beer. It sloshed over the rim and onto the carpet with a splash.

"Sociopath." I muttered, wondering who would've sent the picture and text if it wasn't Jim or John. I stood up and unplugged my phone before racing out of her wasted home. I stood in the streets for a minute, wondering what to do.

"Lestrade has the equipment to get every detail from this!" I laughed and began to race to Scotland Yard. The thrill of the chase was suddenly filling me, though my heart kept trying to escape from its cage.

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