Waiter in a suit - A Johnlock

24. Missing

       
Sherlock moved his hand from John's hair to his neck, cupping it gently as he pulled him a bit closer. Sherlock had pulled on his coat, ready to go to 'work'. Sherlock brushed his lips against John's before pulling back, sending a warm smile. John smiled back.

"I better go." He mumbled. The smile on John's face faltered for a split second before he could stop it. Unfortunately for John, Sherlock's observational skills didn't fail him. Sherlock knew that John was worried about him. He massaged slow circles on John's neck with his thumb in reassuring.

"John. I'm fine. It won't happen again." He assured. John nodded, not convinced. "See you later. Don't stay up for me." Sherlock said and pecked John's forehead before leaving.

After Sherlock had left. John went to the supermarket, doing some grocery shopping. Because Sherlock had nothing edible. John returned to the flat with bags of shopping filling his arms. He sighed as he made his slow and careful way up to the flat, stopping by Mrs. Hudson's door first to place the coffee he had picked up for her outside of it. He struggled at the last two steps, getting his feet twisted about each other, but finally pushed into the hall and kitchen without spilling everything onto the floor. He placed the bags onto the counter and pulled out his jacket. He sighed loudly as he hung his jacket on the hook.

Later that evening John was on the sofa watching some documentary about the zoo. He looked at the clock and sighed. Sherlock was late once again. John only hoped that he returns safe and well. Maybe he solved the case? That would be brilliant.

After another two hours, John gave up and strolled into the bedroom. He undressed himself and pulled on his pyjamas. He slipped under the sheets, wrapping it tighter around himself. He closed his eyes with a sigh and drifted asleep quite fast.

**
John woke up, the other side of the bed cold to his touch. John had expected Sherlock home before he went to bed, but he hadn't made it. John tried not to worry. Perhaps Sherlock had woken early, and was already in the kitchen making some tea for John. John pulled on Sherlock's dressing gown, and padded down the hall. The flat was too quiet, and concern started to well in John's chest. He squinted around but there was no sign of Sherlock anywhere. He grabbed his mobile phone from the bedstand. He checked if he had any messages. To his disappointment he didn't have one. His heart sank a little bit. He really thought that Sherlock would sent him a text if he wouldn't come home.

He then dialled Sherlock's number. It went on voicemail. John grunted and began writing a text to Sherlock, asking him where he was.

John then decided that until Sherlock called back, there was not much he could do. While waiting on a response, John set the kettle on, waiting for it's whistle. He poured the hot water over his tea bag and stirred it. He sat at the table, eyes wide, staring at his phone.

It's been hours since John sent Sherlock a text. John had a bad feeling about this. Dread started to creep up on him, and settled heavy in his stomach. His phone stayed damningly silent. He tried to tell himself, that Sherlock was just being an idiot, walking in London trying to find more clues. But John didn't understand why Sherlock's phone was off. John wanted to ask Greg about it. But he didn't want to come over like an overprotective boyfriend.

But when it was 6 o'clock. John couldn't wait any longer. He had been drinking six cups of tea since the morning. He started rummaging through Sherlock's paperwork, trying to find Greg's phone number. He growled as he couldn't find anything. A sad smile grew on his lips as he thought about finding the phone number on the site of the Scotland Yard. Thankfully he had his laptop with him, because Sherlock's was password protected. After he found the number, he dialled Greg Lestrade's number, hoping he answered it. He sighed in relief as he heard a voice.

"Greg Lestrade." Greg said graciously.

"Evening. I'm John Watson. I was wondering if you heard anything from Sherlock Holmes last night or today." John asked. The concern was evident in his voice

"I've heard a lot about you." Greg said with a smirk visible in his voice. "And no. What for?" He asked.

"I think he's missing." John muttered, flopping down into the armchair, heaving a deep sigh

"When was the last time you've seen him?" Greg asked, his voice becoming more serious.

"Yesterday evening." John replied. Greg was silent for a moment, causing John to frown slightly.

"Don't panic too fast John. You know how he gets. He runs off on the scent of some lead or another, and doesn't even notice the time. He'll show up soon enough." Greg said with a sigh. John nodded, forgetting for a moment that Greg couldn't see him.

"I'm just worried. Last time he returned with injuries."

"I've heard about that." Greg said. "I will inform Mycroft about his absent."

"Thank you."

He turned off the phone and sighed. He had a bad feeling about this. He rubbed a hand across his face. He desperately started thinking for a way to know where his detective was.

Suddenly an idea came across his head. Maybe he could visit the restaurant, asking them where Sherlock was. John knew that he maybe was a bit overreacting. But he didn't trust the situation. John got out his armchair and shrugged on his jacket. He descended the stairs, and made his way to Mrs Hudson her flat. He knocked on the wooden door twice. He heard footsteps approaching the door. She opened the door, a bright smile growing on her face at the sight of Sherlock's new boyfriend.

"He still didn't come home. I'm going to the restaurant, asking if they know something more." He said. She smiled sadly, nodding.

"I'll phone you if he arrives." She sighed, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Okay thank you." John stepped outside. It was a cold day In London. The sky was filled with clouds, heavy with rain just waiting to fall. He had to wait three minutes before he could flag down a cab. The sky opened up and it started to pour as he entered the cab. He gave the address of the restaurant to the cabby.

The cab rolled up in front of the restaurant. He paid and stepped out the cab. He strolled into the restaurant. He immediately began searching someone familiar, someone he knew. He saw one of the waiters finishing an order at a table. He quickly walked over to the person named Jens and nudged his shoulder. He turned his face, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"John!" He greeted enthusiastic. "Back again eh?" He teased.

"No I'm not." He chuckled uneasy. "I was wondering if you saw Sherlock." John muttered.

"Sherlock. No I haven't seen him today."

"Do you know when he left yesterday?"

"Around ten o'clock I think. He seemed in a hurry." Jens informed. John turned pale, his heart aching.

There is definitely something wrong here.