My Ghost

The Kidnapping

John's POV

Lestrade left after making sure there was no alcohol on my breath. He told me to get ready and that he would be back in an hour or two after getting Molly and Ms. Hudson. I was walking aimlessly around the flat, thinking of nothing in particular. Quietly, I went upstairs and looked at myself in the mirror. Undressing, I stepped into the hot, steaming shower. When the water began to turn cold, I finally stepped out and turned it off. I dried myself off and re-dressed. Combing my hair, I eyed the facial hair above my top lip. I brought the razor out and quickly got rid of it. Rubbing a hand over my freshly shaved face, I forced a smile. I turned the light off, shut the bathroom door, and walked downstairs. But not before passing Sherlock's room.

I stepped in and found everything as it had been. Nothing seemed rearranged or out of its usual style. Sighing, I turned his light out and shut the door. Walking downstairs I looked around and picked up as much as I could.  I went into the kitchen and filled the kettle and set it on the burner. Grabbing a mug, I set the tea bag inside and waited for the water to boil. Then there came a knock at the door.

"Hold on," I shouted, walking out of the kitchen. I went to the front door and opened it, but no one was there. Confused, I stepped out and looked at either end of the street. Not surprisingly, no one was outside in the cold. Looking up, I felt a couple snowflakes hit my face. Wiping them off, I walked back inside and shut the door. An ear splitting whistle echoed throughout the flat. I was hurrying to the kitchen when I felt a strange sensation. I felt that someone else was there. I looked around the flat, seeing no one.

"You really should be more careful Doctor Watson," a thick accented female voice said behind me.

"Careful with what?"

"Careful with who you choose to be friends with."

All of a sudden, I felt a hard object hit the side of my head. I dropped the my knees, wincing in pain. My vision started to go, black dots covering my vision. I tried to look at my assailant, but an itchy cloth covered my eyes.

"Goodnight, Doctor. Soon London will be covered in ash and darkness and there is nothing you can do."  The last thing I heard before darkness overtook me was the ear splitting whistle of the tea kettle.

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Sherlock's POV

I ran as fast as I could. My lungs were just beginning to fail me when I reached the flat. However, I didn't see what I wanted. The flat was surrounded in police tape and I could see Lestrade standing at the door. I hadn't wanted him to know I was here, but I had no other choice. I couldn't see John and I had to know what was happening. I pulled the police tape above my head and walked to the door.

"Hello Lestrade," I said, my voice steady.

"Sherlock? How-? You're supposed to be dead," he mumbled, eyes widened.

"No time for explanations. What happened?" I asked, stepping inside.

"Sherlock, don't." Ignoring him, I walked inside. Right before I reached the kitchen I found what made my stomach turn into knots. The carpet was covered in blood.

"John..." I whispered, kneeling down beside the puddle.

"We don't know if it is his yet, we're running diagnostics."

"If it is his, he's unconscious. It looks to be a pint of blood," I said, studying it. "This happened approximately an hour ago," I stated, finding the edges almost dry.

"We know, I was bringing Molly and Ms. Hudson over for a dinner. I suggested it to John around four, when we got here there was that."

"And I assume he's in the hospital now?"

"Well, no. Not exactly."

"What do you mean by not exactly. You didn't keep him here with all of the blood he lost did you? If he keeps losing blood at that rate, he'll be dead by tomorrow."

"We know that. That's why we're doing everything we can to find him."

"Find him?!"

"Yes, Sherlock. John's been kidnapped."