I'm so sorry! I hadn't realised how long it's been since the last update! Still struggling with life, but slugging through. This chapter feels a little rough to me, I may edit in future, but I hate to keep you waiting.

Sherlock enters the flat through the kitchen and heads straight for his bedroom. Upon finding it empty, he freezes in panic. 'Joanna?' He turns in a circle. 'Jo?!'

Her voice sounds from the main room. 'Here.'

Police are flooding the flat as he moves to stand before her. She looks pale and dazed but otherwise unharmed.

He drops to a crouch. 'What did he say to you?'

Her eyes flick to his but she's interrupted before she can speak.

'What the hell happened now?!' Lestrade stands in the doorway, looking furious.

'Here!' comes the yell from the bathroom.

Lestrade gives them both a once over before heading towards the shout. Seconds later, he curses. 'Get forensics, lock this place down!'

That startles the officers into action, they start scuttling about like ants. In the midst of it all, Sherlock puts his hand on Joanna's knee. Lestrade comes in from the kitchen.

'Was it him again?'

Sherlock nods, not looking at him.

'You got anything for me?'

He shakes his head.

Lestrade puts his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath. 'Right, you're gonna have to stay somewhere else tonight, maybe tomorrow too. Somewhere we can reach you. Hotel?'

'Not secure enough,' Sherlock responds, 'Mycroft has space.'

The DI nods. 'Yeah. Pack some things. I'll get someone to drive you.'

'That won't be necessary.' The man himself speaks from the doorway.

Sherlock turns to his brother sharply, rising. 'Anything?'

'We are investigating several working hypotheses,' Mycroft responds. 'Nothing concrete as yet.'

Sherlock's shoulders slump in defeat and he run his hands through his hair. 'I don't understand.' He turns back to Joanna, who still hasn't moved from her chair. 'What did he say?'

She blinks up at him. 'He said…he asks me moments earlier each time. He told me not to leave your side.'

'But that makes no sense,' Sherlock snaps, 'he's contradicting himself. If he's taking you, you're not with me. And earlier than what? What is he doing?'

'Sherlock, maybe you should step back from this,' Lestrade suggests, quietly. 'Let us handle it.'

'You don't know any more than I do!'

'Either way,' Mycroft interjects, 'there's nothing you can do right now. If you go after him, he may very well return as you. My driver will take you to the house. You can make yourselves comfortable.'

Sherlock can do little more than run a hand through his already-tousled hair in response.

Sherlock is glued to her hip. Or her arm, judging by the way he won't let it go.

'Sherlock, we're in a car,' Joanna huffs.

His grip tightens momentarily on her forearm before he pulls away to tap on his phone. 'Yes.'

'You're becoming as glued to that thing as Mycroft's assistant.'

'Mmm…'

'Have you at least found anything?'

Nothing. She thinks for a moment.

'Should we get married?'

'What?'

'Ah, he lives. Lovely.'

Sherlock gapes at her for a split second longer before rolling his eyes to the window. 'What is it?'

She shrugs and settles back. 'What's the plan then?'

Sherlock spends the rest of the day huddled over a laptop in Mycroft's upstairs sitting room, eyes narrowed in focus. He doesn't move until Joanna announces she's going down stairs to cook dinner, at which point, he grabs the computer, follows her and settles at the counter to continue staring at the screen. As she cooks, he starts making phone calls, speaking too quickly and too quietly to for Joanna to catch much of anything.

She settles a plate in front of Sherlock, though he doesn't so much as glance at it until she glares at him and says 'Sherlock' in her most threatening tone.

Eventually she bullies him into taking a shower.

'What for?'

'You're starting to stink.'

'Pheromones.'

'Bacteria.'

'Masculine odour.'

'Neanderthal.'

'Refined.'

'Boring.'

He pouts at her as he rises. 'Don't leave this room.'

'No sir!' she replies with a mock salute.

'I'll leave the door open.'

'Heaven forefend.'

'Call if you need me.'

'I won't.'

The instant she hears the running water of the shower, Joanna leans forward and slips the flash drive into the laptop. On it is a video marked "1", and a file marked "2". She clicks the video and peers closely at the grainy footage on the computer screen. The CCTV footage is of a quiet street, not empty, but not busy either. She recognises it as one near the flat. She also recognises the blonde woman who has just turned the corner. The other Joanna appears to be headed toward Baker Street, bundled up against the wind in a familiar blue scarf. She's halfway down the street when a white sedan pulls up beside her.

In her seat, Joanna squirms slightly, watching the screen. Something is off. White is not a colour she associates with any of Mycroft's usual kidnappings. The Other Joanna seems to pause. Leaning to look into the window of the car. Whatever she sees or hears seems to unnerve her. She takes a sharp step back and shakes her head. The footage is too grainy to determine her expression, but the movements are enough to suggest fear and uncertainty.

The viewing Joanna intertwines her fingers and rests her elbows on the table. Her breathing has shallowed and she finds herself inexplicably panicked. The car door opens (oh God, don't get in), the Other Joanna steps forward (please, please, don't get in), and climbs into the car. The door slams shut and it pulls away from the curb and out of view.

The screen fades to black.

Joanna leans back (this is why, this is why it's happening, this is it) and rubs a hand over her forehead. She closes the window and opens the file marked "2". Inside are copies of newsite articles, scans of editorials, police reports and a file marked "3". She opens one of the articles.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS SEARCH FOR MISSING BLOGGER

The sister of internet sensation Joanna Watson, frequently seen in the company of Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes, has issued a public statement pleading for her return. Harriet Watson wrote to us exclusively from a rehabilitation facility in Cornwall:

"Please, if you're reading this, Jo or whoever took her, please. Come back, bring her back. No questions, no police. I want my sister home safe."

Doctor Watson was last seen getting into an unidentified white sedan five weeks ago. Friends have noted that it is out of character for Joanna not to contact anyone for such an extended period of time. An unknown benefactor has offered £500 000 for information leading to her return. Mister Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson's flatmate and rumoured partner, was not available for comment.

Joanna opens another file.

Watson, Joanna H.

Last seen: XX/XX/XXXX*

D.O.B.: XX/XX/XXXX

Height: 5ft 6in

Build: Petite

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Dark blonde

Complexion: Fair

Gender: Female

Circumstances: Missing person filmed on CCTV voluntarily entering a white Audi B8 A4 less than a mile away from her home. Missing person was returning from a walk after an argument with her flatmate and appeared nervous when speaking to the occupant of the vehicle. Any attempts to phone the person have failed, and she has not been in touch with sister or friends. Missing person is an ex-service-woman with diagnosed PTSD, but has shown no symptoms or made any complaints in at least 18 months. She was not on any medication.

Joanna closes the window, heart pounding. She opens the file marked "3". There are no previews, each of the dozen-or-so files are numbered. She opens one at random. It's an excerpt from a newscast.

'Julie Hanlock is at the scene in Southwark. Julie, what can you tell us?'

'Yes Michael, unfortunately we have just received official word that the body of Doctor Joanna Watson has been recovered from a skip bin in the alley just around the corner behind me. From what has been suggested, there is evidence of significant injuries indicative of torture – '

She shuts the screen in haste and rests both hands flat on the table, taking a deep breath and holding 's a sound behind her. She starts from the chair and spins around.

Sherlock looks ill. Eyes wide, hands fisted, tense as his violin strings. He also looks furious.

Joanna takes a cautious step forward. 'It's okay.' (It's not)

He flinches and looks at her sharply. 'No.'

She takes another step. 'It'll be okay.' (It won't)

'NO IT WON'T!'

He spins away and rampages through the room. She has never seen him lose control like this in all the time she's known him. Anything in his way is flung out of it, anything breakable ends up shattered on the floor. Then he's on his knees, gasping for breath.

She approaches slowly, kneeling beside him with a hand on his back. 'Sherlock…'

What can she say? What can she say that he'll believe?

'I'm here,' she mutters, hoarse. He's wrapping himself around her, a devastated look in his eyes.

(For now)

*because i cannot think of a timeframe, there are no dates