ok this is a really hard fic to find and ive literally looked for ages. it used to be one of my favorite fics but i deleted my ao3 with the bookmark :( basically it's after s1's finale and john thinks hes with sherlock but really it's moriarty who took him after the pool confrontation and hes been drugging etc to make john believe he's sherlock (john has amnesia from the explosion.) it ends in like a standoff in a parking garage where john learns the truth and goes back to sherlock. PLS HELP!💘
Hey there! I haven’t been able to find anything close to this, but do you remember a specific word or phrase from the fic? Like, “You’re not Sherlock,” or “you’ve been drugging me?” or even the name of another an OC from the fic? Any small thing will help me to find it, assuming it hasn’t been deleted. PM me or send me another ask with this info if you remember any. Check back on the notes of this post, too, just in case one of my followers has heard of it.
If you think you know this fic, please reblog or reply with a title and author or a link!
(John’s mobile sounds right as Sherlock steps out of the cottage to put their cases in the rental car. Starting a walk-through to make sure they haven’t forgotten anything, John takes it from his coat pocket and sees that it’s Sarah Sawyer.)
J: (smiling) Sarah, how are you? How’s that beautiful baby of yours?
SS: Hi, John. She’s perfect, as usual. How are you?
J: I am fantastic, actually.
SS: Good. That’s excellent. You and Sherlock got some rest? Or has he been chasing down cases the whole time?
J: Not a single one. It’s been wonderful. Like a honeymoon, really. I’ll never forget this place.
SS: Oh. So you’re still there then.
J: Just about to leave.
(Sarah is quiet on the other end and John stops in the sitting room with a hand on his hip, seeing a pair of bright red pants he knows to be Sherlock’s favorite peeking out from under the sofa. He bends down to pick it up and makes a mental note to get a good look under there for more articles of clothing, then gives Sarah his full attention. He has known her long enough to know her silence, in this case, is indicative of guilt.)
J: Sarah, is something wrong?
(He hears a little laugh and deep intake of breath.)
SS: I swear you’ve spent too much time with him. (sighing) I need a favor. I feel terrible asking before you’ve even come back.
J: What is it? Please say babysitting.
SS: (laughing) I wish I could say yes, but it’s the surgery.
J: You need a shift?
SS: Yes. Tonight. (John blinks his eyes wide as she continues.) I’m so sorry, John, but Janet is out of town for her daughter’s wedding and Robert is sick and this is the one night of the week that the surgery’s open late. I’d do it by myself and just call in more of the aids to help, but no one’s answering. It’s just me, Jack, and Elsa.
J: Slow down. (finally getting a word in edgewise) I can be there by 4. Is that early enough?
SS: (gasping and relieved) Yes! Yes, that’s perfect! God, John, thank you. I’m so sorry about this.
J: It’s no trouble, Sarah. Just know you owe us a visit with Madeleine.
SS: (a smile in her voice) Done. Thanks so much, John.
J: You’re welcome. I’ll see you later. Ta.
(John hits end and pockets the mobile.)
S: Was that Greg? I have been resolutely ignoring his calls.
(John turns to see his fiance standing in the doorway.)
J: So I’ve noticed.
(He gets on his knees and peers under the sofa, finding a black sock. Getting back to his feet and walking toward Sherlock, he holds up the red pants.)
J We nearly left these behind.
(The detective pretends he doesn’t care, but John can see the shadow of pique in his eyes and smiles as he presses them into Sherlock’s hand. The detective shoves them in his pocket and looks down at John.)
S: (cocking a brow) Greg will seek out our help with the triple murder case as soon as we enter the city.
J: (playfully) Ah. So you have done a little looking after all.
(Sherlock shrugs as he rests his hands on John’s hips and gives him a quick, soft kiss.)
S: You were having a ridiculously long lie-in. I needed something to do before I woke you for farewell sex.
(John smiles at the memory and gives the man in his arms a squeeze.)
J: And we’ll need to have welcome home sex after you’ve solved the case.
S: After I’ve solved it? Won’t you be with me?
J: Yeah, about that. (He looks at Sherlock apologetically.) That was Sarah. The surgery is open until eight and it’s just her and a couple of the medical aids. I said I’d help out. Sorry.
(Sherlock pouts with those glorious lips that John can’t help but kiss and then suck lightly. A low moan rises from Sherlock’s throat and he pulls John’s hips close to his own. When the doctor leans back to meet Sherlock’s eyes, he sees pools of silver mischief.)
S: We are definitely having sex as soon as I get home.
(John laughs as Sherlock presses another kiss to his lips and then leads him out of the cottage by the hand. They both stand before the small two-story and grin. Sherlock tilts his head a little and gives John a sideways look. John turns to see a knowing smile playing at Sherlock’s lips and laughs. The detective joins in and then kisses his doctor once more. When their chuckles die down, Sherlock slides his arms around John’s body and faces him adoringly.)
S: Let’s go home.
***
G: Thanks, Sherlock.
(They watch as Sally Donovan and two uniformed officers drag the author of the triple murder case to a police car and push him inside.)
G: Will John be home waiting?
(Sherlock reads 10:30 on his watch and nods at the DI.)
S: Most certainly. The surgery closed its doors at eight o’clock. He would have arrived home at least an hour ago.
G: Better get yourself home then.
S: (with a congenial smile) Good evening, Greg.
G: Night.
(Sherlock catches a cab and sets off for Baker Street. He removes his mobile from his coat pocket and types out a message.
On my way. Greet me naked, if convenient. SH
He looks out of the window for a moment, watching as people hurry in and out of the streetlights that illuminate the dark night. Smiling to himself, he sends John another message.
If not convenient, greet me naked anyway. SH )
(Sherlock pockets the mobile and looks out the window again. Now that they are back in London, he can actually arrange their wedding instead of just thinking about it. The date they settled on in Cornwall is just over two months away, so he must get invitations out to the small group they intend to invite. Sherlock gazes thoughtfully at the darkened sidewalks. He knows a calligrapher who could quickly make the handful he and John need. The detective could put them in the hands of their guests within the next few days.
He resolves to make the design he already has stored in his mind palace digital in the morning and then send it to his friend. Friend? Sherlock frowns slightly. He has used that word to describe people he’s known for some time quite a bit of late. He never thought he had friends before meeting John, and was absolutely convinced that John was his only one. It certainly seemed true at the time. Until John got him to see how Greg felt about him. And Angelo and so many others.
Angelo. A part of Sherlock would like to ask Angelo to cater the wedding, but he’d rather see the man simply attend and enjoy himself. Fortunately, Sherlock knows just the place to do it and transporting the food to the Holmes property out of the city will be no trouble for them.
The detective methodically moves down a checklist he has been keeping since John agreed to be his husband. He will order the flowers and decorations, the cake, the music. Aside from his own, of course. He has been writing a piece for violin and will play it just before their first dance as husbands. Sherlock’s lips curl into a smile as he sees himself and John dancing together slowly in the eyes of all their friends. He catches himself sighing quietly and rolls his eyes. He was once above such sentimentality. What has John Watson done to him?
Lost in his thoughts, Sherlock doesn’t notice the cab has stopped until its driver informs him in a rather loud, but friendly voice. Sherlock pays the man and climbs out of the car. He glances at his mobile as he approaches the door to the building and sees that John never texted him back. Not even one of those eye-rolling emojis he is so fond of. Sherlock shrugs and unlocks the door.)
(When he steps into 221B a minute later, the beaming face and naked body dripping of pure sex that he expects are not there. The flat, in fact, appears to be completely dark. Sherlock sheds his coat and scarf, and toes off his shoes. He rounds the corner to their bedroom, imaging John waiting for him in the bed with not a stitch on his glorious body, but the light at the end of the hall is also turned off. The detective silently continues on his quest for the short doctor. The surgery must have been packed and, coupled with the day’s long drive, John must have been exhausted and gone straight to bed. He would’ve had no idea when Sherlock would arrive home, after all.)
(Sherlock quietly enters the room, eyes immediately finding the bed. The room is barely lit by a streetlight that is obscured by thin curtains, but even in the dim light, Sherlock can tell that the bed is empty. He flips on the light switch and frowns. Looking to his left, he sees their still unpacked cases next to the door. There is no lingering humidity from the shower John always takes after a shift at the surgery to rid himself of antiseptic and other associated stenches. The scents of his soap and shampoo are absent as well. Nor is there the spiced smell of take away.
Sherlock’s heart goes cold, every muscle in his body tense. John has not been back to their flat since he left for work hours ago.
His mind begins to whirl with the possibilities. The detective starts when a ring from his mobile crashes into the silence. It’s Greg. The color drains from Sherlock’s already pale face. He answers with a steady voice and shaking hands.)
S: Lestrade.
G: Sherlock. (The DI sounds quiet and nervous. And scared.) I need you at the surgery now. It’s John.
***
(Sherlock waits impatiently in the cab, tapping his foot on the car floor and looking anxiously across the front seat out the windshield. He slides up the seat to perch on its edge when the cab slows to a stop. There are flashing police lights four or five blocks ahead and a line of cars in between. The cabby’s gruff voice remarks that the detective would get to his destination faster on foot just in time to turn and see two bills float into the front seat with him. He looks out the side window to see his former passenger running down the pavement toward the lights. The driver shrugs and turns on his radio.
Sherlock arrives at the surgery in minutes, bumper to bumper traffic all along his run. Police cars and ambulances block most of the street, leaving only one lane and officers directing. Police tape is draped around the building’s entrance with officers everywhere. Sherlock stops dead when he sees Sally Donovan pacing by the tape a few feet from the surgery’s door. An officer steps up to tell her something as Sherlock approaches. She gives him a stern nod and a few terse words, the detective catching her eye when the officer hurries away. Sally nods at Sherlock in a similar way and raises the tape for him to enter. They walk briskly to the door.)
S: Where is she?
SD: Inside. There are two others. (He looks at her as they enter.) Both dead.
(Sherlock glances around the waiting room full of pleasantly upholstered chairs with an occasional table for magazines, a water cooler next to the door leading to the examination rooms and offices. In front of him is a tall reception counter. Anderson’s minions are everywhere, dusting and peering.)
SD: She’s back there.
(They start across the room. Sherlock looks toward reception as they go and observes two techs on their knees next to a woman lying dead on the floor. Shot expertly in the chest. Straight through the heart. Professional.
Sally leads him through the door and into the hall that leads to exam and supply rooms, loos, and offices. Several techs are moving in and out of an exam room a few doors down to the right. Sherlock can hear Anderson speaking loudly over the din)
SD: The other medical aid is down there. Shot just like the first one.
(Sherlock turns his head to look at her, but sees around her instead. Down the hall, techs are going in and out of doors, stepping around two officers standing guard at John’s office door. He strides quickly through the hall. Blood is smeared on the floor from the office door to one of the exam rooms. Sherlock quickens his already swift pace, stopping at the door just as Greg Lestrade comes out of it. The DI’s hand is at the base of his own neck, having just run it through his salt and pepper hair. His brown eyes are wide as he meets the sharp silver of the detective’s.)
G: She’s in here and she’s asking for you. It’s bad.
S: And John?
G: He’s gone.
(Greg steps into the office and to the side, so the other two can follow him in. Paramedics surround Sarah Sawyer where she lies on the floor next to John’s desk in a pool of blood. Sherlock can see at a glance that it is too much to be only her own, in spite of her obvious wounds. She has been shot twice, once high in each shoulder. Not fatal unless she were to lose consciousness without calling for help and bleed out. Even then, it would take hours. Sarah is mouthing off to the medics and being generally uncooperative as Sherlock comes near. For the first time, he can see why John likes her so much. Her eyes widen when she notices him. Her expression is somewhere between relief and terror.)
SS: John. They took him.
Medic: Slow down, Doctor. You need to relax.
SS: Fuck off! (turning to Sherlock, face full of worry) He shot him. The blonde one. He was losing so much blood. (Sherlock squats at her side and she clutches desperately at his arm.) I tried to convince them to let me help, but they wouldn’t listen. Just dragged him to the exam room to bandage him up. Sherlock, John will die without surgery. He has to get that bullet out. It’s his shoulder in nearly the same place as the war wound.
S: The two men. What did they look like?
(Sarah stills, but for a hard shiver through her body. Her hand squeezes tighter on Sherlock’s arm. Her eyes bore into his with a piercing cold.)
SS: He told me to give you a message. (Sherlock cocks a brow.) He had dark hair and gave the orders. Said he’s an old friend of yours and John’s.
(Sherlock clenches his jaw. His eyes are pure steel. He vaguely hears Greg rub his hands over his face and Sally gasp behind him.)
S: What is the message? Tell me what he said, exactly what he said.
SS: (swallowing hard) He said John belongs to him. You took his property and you’ll pay. You’ll both pay.
(Silence hangs heavy in the air like a dense fog. Sherlock feels Sarah’s words sink into his bones, replacing his blood with ice. A chill settles over his body. He wipes his hands over his own mouth as he looks into Sarah’s pleading eyes.)
SS: I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I saw Jack walking him to the exam room, but I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t warn John. I should’ve warned John! And now… There’s no way he’ll live without medical attention.
(Sherlock closes his eyes briefly and opens them with new resolve. He places his own hand on Sarah’s and gives it a firm, but brief squeeze.)
S: I’ll find him. (looking at her with a penetrating stare) But you must tell me everything they said and did, every detail. Leave nothing out.
(Sherlock can feel the glare of the medics. He looks at Sarah’s bandaged shoulders and then back to her cool blue eyes.)
S: Can you do that?
SS: (with sincere eyes) I’ll be fine. He wanted me to give you the message. I heard him call the police himself as the other one dragged John out. I’m fine, I promise.
(The medics grumble. Sally shifts on her feet. Greg rests a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. The detective meets Sarah’s eyes.)
Before the wedding, Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set during TSOT, John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island. toplock
Description: John is kidnapped, and a live video feed is sent to Sherlock. Every hour, he has to make a choice. What should we do to him next?
Review: 2012-esque Moriarty tortures John fic. I remember reading this years ago and I recently found it again. Extremely violent. Pre slash but John does kiss Sherlock on the forehead twice in the end.
