Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John Watson was very tired. He needed to do laundry, the flat needed groceries, and all this would be fine except he hasn’t slept last night.

Sherlock was on a case and needed his help analyzing, which meant he couldn’t sleep.

So John thinks it’s perfectly reasonable to storm out of the flat after finding a dismembered foot in his fridge.

He had told Sherlock five times the past week to keep dead body parts out of the house and keep them at the lab. Or at least in a separate cooler. So, yes, he was fed up.

John could feel Sherlock’s eyes following him as he went down the steps.

“I’m going for a walk, don’t come with me.”

The cold air stung his arms as he walked at a brisk pace. John regretted storming out of their flat without a jacket, but he wasn’t going back now.

Just as he was considering turning back, strong hands grabbed him from behind. 

Immediately he twisted around, throwing the hands off of himself. The hands belonged to two men, both dressed in all black with ski masks.

Overall, they looked like classic muggers. John can handle muggers. One doesn’t spend years in the British military without learning how to fight.

John fights a grin as he blocks and throws punches.

The first man falls to the ground. He wipes blood from under his nose. Suddenly, more hands grab onto his arms.

He struggles against them. More figures emerge from the shadows.

John throws someone off him, but more hands grab hold of him. Hands wrap around his face, shoving a cloth against his mouth and nose.

It smelled nauseatingly strong, making his vision swim. John held his breath and continued to struggle against the strange hands.

His lungs burn and black spots begin to block his vision.

John finally gasped for air and his limbs became numb. The hands tie his hands behind his back and carry him away. The last thing John sees is an empty street before his eyes finally close.

~•~

John slowly gains consciousness. He keeps his eyes closed and uses his other sense to figure out where he is before alerting his captors to the fact that he’s awake.

He was sitting in a metal chair with thick rope tying his hands behind his back and to the chair.

There were sounds of a conversation, but it was muffled, most likely through a door. John couldn’t hear anyone else in the room with him, so he opened his eyes.

The room was dark and small. More of a closet than a room, if John was being honest.

The door opened and he could see eight figures standing outside the door, along with the man entering. The man shut the door behind him, not letting John see much else.

”Well, if it isn’t Sherlock Holmes’ little blogger.”

The man spoke with clear anger in his tone.

“I would rough you up some before your ransom photo, but you did that all on your own.” The man smiled coldly. “Did you really think you could take down ten men in your own.”

John didn’t give him an answer.

The man pulled out a disposable camera and flashed the bright light in his face. John blinked away the spots in his vision.

He just needed to bide his time until the man left. Then he could escape.

Eventually the man left John alone in the darkness. Finally, he could begin his escape. The rope was easy work, the knot wasn’t even tied to the chair.

John pressed his ear to the door. There was a faint pair of footsteps that were fading as the seconds passed.

Once the footsteps were gone, John waited a beat before trying the door handle.

Locked.

At least the criminals had some common sense.

He kicked the door down and went the opposite way of the footsteps. After quickly scanning the hall, he found a row of windows. One of which was broken and wouldn’t shut.

John grinned, perfect. 

He peered out the window, it was only one story up. Softly, so as to not alert any nearby criminals, he opened the window.

Climbing out the window, John dropped and rolled once he hit the ground.

He winced as his knees ached.

Glancing back, the building he got taken to was an abandoned warehouse. John took note of the building and where it was to show Sherlock when he got back.

Again, John wished he had went back to his flat to get a jacket.

Sighing, he set off toward the biggest group of buildings.

~•~

John’s teeth were chattering and his fingers have gone numb but he finally got to the city and found someone who would let him borrow their phone.

Dialing one of the few numbers John could remember without problem, he called Sherlock.

It rang four times before Sherlock picked up.

”Now is not a good time.”

Then he hung up. John sighed before calling again.

”Like I said before, now—“

John cut him off, “—Yes, yes. I don’t care how busy you are, I’m freezing my arse off! So if you could kindly come and get me, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

There was silence on the other side.

”John!” Sherlock exclaimed in relief. “I just received evidence of you being kidnapped.”

John rolled his eyes.

”Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Sherlock huffed before reassuring John that he sent a car.

~•~

John waited for another fifteen minutes after hanging up the phone and handing the stranger their phone back.

An all black car pulled up on the sidewalk in front of him.

He eyed the car warily, before the window rolled down and Anthea nodded at him from inside the car.

Climbing inside the car, John finally got the chance to warm up some more.

He stared out the window and watched the buildings pass in a blur. Eventually the surroundings became more familiar, and they turned on to Baker street.

John exited the car with a thanks.

Finally, back at 221b Baker street. John slowly trudged up the seventeen stairs. Sherlock was standing at the door when he reached the top.

“I’ll have a cuppa, ta”

Sherlock frowned, “How did you escape?”

John sighed, he wasn’t getting that cuppa. He walked past Sherlock and went up the stairs.

He’s had a long day.

John Watson was very tired. He needed to do laundry, the flat needed groceries, he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and all this would be fine except he had to get himself kidnapped as well.

So, yes, he was going to ignore Sherlock and go to sleep. John was out before his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

A buzzing sound pierced John’s peaceful sleep. He groaned and rolled over. His phone buzzed again.

Case solved -SH

Are you still mad at me? -SH

John contemplated. He was still frustrated, but he knew that since they started dating Sherlock tried harder than before to keep body parts out of the fridge and other disturbing habits to a minimum.

No, I’m not

He climbed out of bed, noting that Sherlock’s side hadn’t been messed with. He vaguely remembered a soft violin soothing him to back to sleep after a bad dream.

Smiling now, John went down the stairs.

The smell of burnt tea sped him up. Sherlock must have tried to make ‘I’m sorry’ tea.

Arriving downstairs, Sherlock was standing awkwardly in front of the tea kettle. Shaking his head, John helped Sherlock with the tea.

”I’m going out for groceries.”

John smiled wider.

”Alright”

He handed Sherlock the list off the counter.

”I’ll be back in an hour.”

John waved at Sherlock as he went down the stairs. He watched him through the window as he disappeared down the street.

Sighing, John relaxed on the couch.

His blinks became longer and his eyes struggled to open. Dozing off, his head lolled forward.

~•~

Blinking quickly to wake up, John glanced around.

Right, he was on the couch.

Wondering what woke him, John picked up his phone. It would have been great if he remembered to grab that last night, John thought bitterly.

The time read 9:45, he had only napped for around thirty minutes.

He had a notification on his phone. After checking it was from Sherlock. John pulled up the messages app.

Help -SH

John’s heart rate sped up. Crap, what happened. His mind raced with possibilities.

He grabbed his laptop from where it sat on the counter. Quickly, John tracked Sherlock’s phone. Thank goodness both their phones had trackers downloaded on them.

Mycroft did something so it would work even if their phones were off. He told John, but he just tuned Mycroft out.

Grabbing his keys— and not forgetting his jacket, John raced out the door.

Sherlock was only a few blocks away. His last text was sent only a minute ago.

~•~

John arrived after five minutes of a light jog.

He glanced around before finding spilt milk and a dropped bag of groceries. Damn it, he didn’t want to go grocery shopping again.

Rounding the corner, John found Sherlock slumped against the brick wall. He sighed in relief, thankful that there was no one near him. John was worried that Sherlock didn’t respond when he heard his footsteps however.

Just as John reached Sherlock, five masked figures came from around the corner.

They surrounded John and began to attack him. One grabbed his arm in a tight grip while another punched him on the gut.

He doubled over in pain, he hated brass knuckles.

He sucked in a deep breathe and swung the man grabbing onto his arm into the lady with the brass knuckles.

They fell to the ground and the three other figures rushed towards him. One of them had a knife and swiped at John with it.

He hissed as it dug into his arm, exposing it to the autumn chill.

Another figure grabbed him by the arms while he was too distracted with the knife girl. John stepped on the man’s foot behind him and swung around to punch him across the face.

The man went down hard, and John smirked at the unconscious man on the ground. Just then his knuckles smarted from hitting too many hard things without cushioning but he would be fine.

The final figure and the knife girl ran at him again. He dodged the first swipe of the knife, but not the second. It torn into his jumper and drew blood. John grabbed the knife girl’s arm and twisted the knife out of her hand.

Quickly kicking it away, he continued to brawl with the two girls remaining.

They got several swings in on him, many of which would be bruises in the morning, but eventually he managed to knock them out without injuring them much.

He stopped to catch his breath, unused to the physical activeness of brawling in a back alleyway.

Sherlock was still slumped over in the same spot, so John grabbed one of his arms and threw it over his shoulder. There was the beginning of a bruise on his left cheekbone and a split lip.

John grimaced when he saw blood beginning to seep through his shirt and quickened his pace in dragging Sherlock home.

It only took thirteen minutes to get home. Sherlock thankfully was thankfully still out when John laid him on the couch and grabbed the first aid kit.

John cleaned up some of the cuts Sherlock got, and put ice on his bruises.

Then he turned to the first aid kit that was still laying open on the couch beside Sherlock. Carefully, John cleaned the wound and prepared stitches.

~•~

The wound only required four stitches but it was four more than John wished for.

He left Sherlock laying on the couch while he threw away the now bloody wound cleaning supplies. He took off the rubber gloves and threw them in the trash as well. 

John sighed and pulled of his jumper, wincing when it dragged against his newly-formed bruises and cuts.

He began the process he just finished and Sherlock. He cleaned and stitched up his two cuts from the knife, foregoing the ice.

Then he made some tea.

No matter how bad things were, tea always made it better. He sat and watched Sherlock sleep while he waited for the pot to boil. He always looked so peaceful when his body was still, the only part of him moving was his chest rising and falling.

John quickly grabbed the kettle and poured out the tea before it would make noise, he wanted Sherlock to rest for as long as possible.

Once his cup was poured, he went to his armchair to rest while he drank his tea.

His eyes became heavier and heavier, and he sat down his tea and let the Sherlock’s rhythmic breathing lull him to sleep.