The Trick Revealed

Chp 1

That didn't take long now did it?

One month. It had been one month, but if you asked the detective it had felt like a year. He spent most of it chasing down false leads and dead ends. Moriarty had started with silence, the first week and a half there was nothing, not a word. His homeless network wasn't talking, they were afraid and they were leaving. Something was definitely wrong and he had no doubt that Moriarty was behind it. He had to find out where the mastermind was; he intended to hunt him down and to get John back. The doctor was still alive, he had to be, Moriarty would have sent him the body, possibly even in pieces. Delete that! No, he didn't want to think about John, think about what was happening to him. John was strong, but…an entire month? It was too horrible for words. If he ever found himself thinking about it he would be stuck between praying he could still save him, or that Moriarty had put him out of his misery. That was when he thought of it though, usually he did his best not to. He had to stay focused on the case, on the facts; he had to concentrate on finding Moriarty. Which was exactly what he was trying to do when Lestrade barged into his flat. The man was intolerable, he insisted on bothering the detective with useless information. His men provided nothing of value and Lestrade himself spent most of his time telling Sherlock to eat than anything else. Idiot, there wasn't time to eat! Was John eating? He would eat when he had his doctor back at home, safe and sound, until then he would work.

"Sherlock? Are you even listening to me?"

Lestrade demanded as he stood irritated in the door way of 221 b. Sherlock didn't even bother to turn his head, instead he simply continued to stare at his board where he'd pinned up all the information he had, which wasn't much.

"No."

He stated blandly. The sooner the detective inspector left the better.

"I know this is hard-"

"Well congratulations inspector you once again have a firm grasp of the obvious! Of course this is hard! This is more than hard, it's hell! John is out there, god knows where, having god knows what done to him! And you want me to what? To eat? I. Don't. Have. Time. John doesn't have time! So if you're quite done I'd like to get back to work!"

It was quiet for a while, and Sherlock thought for just a second the inspector might have left.

"I'm sorry…I'm not sure what else to do Sherlock. Moriarty just seems to be toying with us, has been from the start. I don't know…it's been a month."

"I'm aware of how much time has passed. It changes nothing."

"Sherlock, be reasonable. We've searched every possible place, chased down every lead, and we're still coming up empty handed."

Sherlock finally turned towards Lestrade and settled his icy hot glare somewhere between the inspector's eyes.

"You want to give up? Hmm? You can live with that decision can you? Fine, then go, do as you please. I don't need you anyway, I'll find him on my own. Just do me a favor and stay out of my way."

Lestrade shuffled uncomfortably but maintained a stern and steady stare.

"This isn't healthy. What you're doing…you're killing yourself. You haven't eaten or slept as far as I know for this entire time. You need rest. What would John say?"

Sherlock went tense and his glare intensified if that was even possible. His upper lip twitched as if he were about to snarl.

"Shut up. You shut up! You don't know a damn thing! John would want me to find him! And I will die a thousand times before I sit on my ass while Moriarty tortures the only man I've ever loved!"

Silence encased the room save for the sounds of the two men's breathing. Sherlock turned abruptly to face his board again, wanting nothing more with the inspector. Lestrade stepped closer though, unsure of himself.

"Sherlock…Jesus, I…do you have any new information? Maybe I could help somehow, I don't know, do something...has Mycroft made any progress?"

Sherlock relaxed slightly but remained still.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I have nothing of any substance. It's all fabrications. Nobody with anything of importance is talking, and if they were, they're dead now. Almost all of my connections have either fled or wound up back with Molly at St. Bart's. We can forget about Mycroft helping either, him and his people are far too busy with this whole bombing business. There's more to this than John, much more. Whatever it is, it's going to be big Lestrade."