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He wasn't sure what happened specifically, but ever since the incident with the devil, Sherlock joined him in bed more regularly, although not always to sleep.
Previously, John would get in bed by himself, and there was a 50/50 chance he would wake up the next morning with an oversized cat on top of him. Nowadays, when he got in bed, Sherlock would join him and there was a 50/50 chance he would sleep, otherwise he would stay up all night on his phone, browsing and reading up on things while John held him.
Later, he found out it was because the detective liked to be held, even though he would never admit to it. He found out because one night, he fell asleep without touching Sherlock at all, and the next morning the cat was grumpy and hissy and would only let him nearby when he came with peace offering in the form of lemon crisp biscuit and chocolate cupcake.
Mrs Hudson came over with a plate of scones and caught them cuddling in the armchair.
Well, not really. John was trying to read the papers while Sherlock curled up on his lap, eating his cupcake.
She grinned wide and excused herself, and he swore he could see her reaching for her phone just as she was closing the door behimd her.
He was even more sure there was a group chat, although he still couldn't work out just who exactly were in it. Molly was in it, for sure, but there must be at least another person.
"You're going to hurt your back if you curl up like that," John said, flipping to the next page of the papers.
"Then take up physiotherapy and fix it for me."
John sighed. "What do you think I am?" he asked.
"Mine, of course," Sherlock said, smiling wide and innocent.
"Don't do that," John said, flicking his forehead. "It's scary."
"Rude," Sherlock grumbled, returning to his cupcake.
John chuckled, returning his attention to the papers.
"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked, reaching for his cup of tea.
"Mm, maybe not for you," John said. "Seems like there's another kidnapping case. There's been another missing person report."
"Hm. What about the previous one?"
"It's not on the news, but maybe you can ask Greg if he heard anything about it."
"Hm."
Sherlock went back to his biscuit and John figured that was the end of the discussion.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
“I’m heading out.”
John looked at Sherlock strangely. “Where are we going?”
“We’re not going anywhere,” he said. “I’m going shopping.”
John raised a brow. “You? Shopping? You don’t even buy your own toiletries.”
He would know because he was the one who did. He basically asked Sherlock if the ones he had when he moved in were his preferred ones, but Sherlock didn’t really care so John had bought different ones whenever they ran out, at least until he found one that smelled good on Sherlock’s skin.
He even got some extras like body scrubs and body oil because Sherlock didn’t care enough to get those, but didn’t mind the pampering.
“What’s this?” he had asked when John gave him a tub of body scrub.
“Use it once a week instead of your body wash. It’s supposed to make your skin smooth.”
“Hm,” Sherlock hummed. “Is this for me or for you?”
“For you to use and for me to enjoy.”
Sherlock smirked. “Pervert.”
Still, he ended up using the body scrub. How would John know? Because he felt the difference right after Sherlock used it. After showers, John would massage the body oil onto Sherlock’s skin (“If that old man got free massages from you every day, so should I.” “It wasn’t everyday.” “Details.”) so he could tell whenever Sherlock used it.
Well, he was going on a tangent. The main point was, Sherlock never did any of his shopping himself.
“What are you really trying to do?”
“I’m trying to get kidnapped.”
John stared at him and Sherlock stared back.
"Are you bored or is this a favour for someone?"
"Bit of both." Sherlock shrugged. "We haven't had a case in a while and Lestrade said the police isn't really looking into it because no one has died."
John sighed. “Alright. Just try not to annoy them enough to kill you before I get there.”
“Who, me?” Sherlock blinked innocently at him. “Whatever could you mean by that, Doctor?”
"I told you not to do that," John said. "So what's your plan?"
"I'm going to walk around the areas we know he got his victims from," Sherlock said. "Meanwhile, I need you to go and find the Irregulars and ask if they've seen anything suspicious recently."
Sherlock had told John about his homeless network, although John hadn't met any of the members other than Wiggins. Still, he went to find them, hoping that if he hadn't told John much about the network, he had at least told the network about John.
John walked around the back streets, keeping his eyes peeled as he did. He found the boy he was looking for not too far from their flat and walked over towards him.
"If it isn't Mister Holmes' lover," Wiggins greeted with a smile. "Is Mister Holmes ill?"
"No, nothing of the sort," John said. "But I'm in need of your help. It's something to do with Mister Holmes."
Wiggins nodded. "Where is Mister Holmes?"
"Out trying to get kidnapped."
To his credit, Wiggins simply nodded, not at all looking surprised. John wondered if that meant Sherlock had done something like this before, or Wiggins was used to Sherlock's eccentricities.
"It's the recent serial kidnapping that Mister Holmes is investigating?"
"Yes," John said. "Have you seen or heard anything?"
"Billy said he saw the kidnapper's car two nights ago but lost track of it."
"Where was this?"
"Somewhere in Notting Hill, he said. The car got on the highway so he lost track of it."
"I see, so his hideout is likely somewhere out of town," John mused. "And he's sure it's the kidnapper's car?"
"Yes, sir," Wiggins nodded. "Saw the burly man threatening a girl with a knife and telling her to get inside."
"... I see. Thank you for the help, lad," he said as he handed Wiggins some money.
"Not a problem, sir," Wiggins grinned as he pocketed the money. "Pass on our greetings to Mister Holmes!"
The boy left and John texted Sherlock the location of the most recent kidnapping.
He didn't get a reply, but he wasn't expecting any. Instead, he checked in with Anthea to make sure the arrangement he requested had been taken care of.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Sherlock read John's message and updated his mental map of where the kidnappings had taken place. Based on the previous locations, he had estimated where the kidnapper might live, and so he wandered around quiet streets in the area.
Also based on the previous kidnappings and how many days the kidnapper usually waited after the last kidnapping, they should be striking today. He just hoped he made himself attractive enough for the kidnapper to try.
If he were to be honest, he was surprised that John had agreed to it. His agreement to carry the tracker at all time probably had something to do with it.
That, and because they both knew the kidnapper still had other victims held wherever he held them, and they needed him to lead them there. There were still some victims that were unaccounted for, after all.
After walking around for an hour, he was wondering if the kidnapper had already taken another victim when he felt a hulking presence behind him. Even through his coat, he could feel the knife pressed against his back.
"That's right, keep walking. Don't look back, don't make any noise or sudden movements."
He did as instructed and walked towards the nondescript white van that looked almost like a delivery van. So it seemed he had been hiding in plain sight. As soon as he got into the van, the man tied his arms behind his back (he had to admit the man was decent with knots). Soon enough they were off and onto the highway.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"There was a brief pause earlier, then another, and now his position is moving too fast," John said into the phone. "Yeah, he's got the guy."
"Understood," Anthea said from the other end. "You go ahead. I'll catch up with you."
As soon as John hung up the phone, a black car pulled up in front of him and the window of the passenger seat rolled down.
"Hey there, handsome," the driver greeted with a smirk. "How much for the night?"
John sighed as he opened the door and got in, pulling the seatbelt on. "You think you're funny."
"Oh, I know I'm funny. So, where to?"
John put his phone on the mobile holder. "Thanks for this, Mary," he said. "I know it was a short notice."
"Eh," Mary shrugged, watching the blinking dot of the tracker as it moved. "I had free time. Plus, I've wanted to see your charge for a while."
"My charge, Sherlock Holmes, or Mycroft's brother?"
Mary chuckled. "All three, I suppose," she said. "And what luck that it turns out to be the same person. I wonder, what kind of person could get your attention so fully and so quickly, hm? Maybe he practices witchcraft on the side?"
John sighed again. "Just drive."
"Fine, you're no fun."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
They arrived at what looked like an abandoned warehouse, and Sherlock walked ahead of the man who still had the knife pressed at his back.
"You're a strange one, Sherlock Holmes," the man mused as he directed Sherlock to an empty room. "The others would have been crying and begging for mercy by now, but not you. I wonder if you have no sense of danger, or if it's false bravado."
He left Sherlock in the empty room and Sherlock listened to his echoing footsteps. It stopped somewhere nearby, then he heard another set of footsteps as well as faint sobs. The man's voice was muffled through the door, but he got enough out of it to know that one of his victims' family had paid the ransom money and he was going to return the victim at the agreed drop off point.
He heard the sound of the van leaving and resigned himself to boredom.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"So, a serial kidnapper who hasn't been captured yet," Mary said.
"Pretty much," John said. "Greg said the police isn't really looking into it. Other than when the missing person was reported, I suppose, but not after the person returned."
"He did return the loved ones in exchange of ransom, so I suppose that plays a part into the affected families not filing a report," Mary said. "Not yet or not ever, I don't know. They might still be distracted by their relief and didn't think of filing a report yet, or they may be worried that if they file a report, the kidnapper will return and actually kill their victim."
"Hm."
Soon enough they arrived in the general area where the blinking dot had stopped. They got out of the car and looked over the hill to see an abandoned warehouse. They saw the kidnapper walking out of the warehouse and into the van parked outside with a victim and waited until he drove off.
"I'm surprised you agreed to this."
John sighed. "What is there to agree with?" he asked. "Sherlock does what Sherlock wants. I just have to be sure to be there whenever he does stupid shit like this."
Mary cackled. "Well," she said. "Let's get in then. I'll take care of the others, you find him. Thankfully for you, your princess is in this castle."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Sherlock sighed. He was bored out of his mind but he couldn't fall asleep. He had even resorted to counting the stains on the ceiling, but that was rather quickly done with. He wished John was here to help him sleep, but if John was here, he wouldn't still be stuck here.
The door clicked open and Sherlock turned to face the doorway. It couldn't have been the kidnapper, he wasn't quiet enough, so it could only be--
"Sherlock," John sighed as he closed the door behind him and walked over towards the detective.
--the reason he wasn't crying or begging for mercy.
Sometimes, he wondered if he was relying on John too much. Lestrade had complained that Sherlock had taken even more risks with John around, knowing that John would be there to catch him if he fell, but really, who cared about what Lestrade thought?
And why shouldn't he rely on John? After all, John was a professional.
"Certainly took your time."
John rolled his eyes. "I'm tempted to gag you as well and bring you home like this."
"Kinky," Sherlock smirked, but then yelped when John flicked his forehead. "Ow, hey, I'm a victim, be nice to me."
"You truly are going to be the death of me," John said as he undid the rope around Sherlock's wrists. "Come on, Anthea's waiting outside."
"What about the others?"
"Mary is taking care of them."
"Mary?"
"A fellow agent," John said. "Go wait in the car. Mary and I are going to wait for the kidnapper to return and deal with him."
"Hey," Mary said as she stood by the door. "I've found the other victims; there are five in total, so I guess I'll be taking the van back with them."
"Alright," John agreed.
"You haven't forgotten how to drive, have you?" she asked.
"Of course not," he said. He helped Sherlock up. "Off you go."
By some kind of miracle, Sherlock did as instructed without protest or snark. He went out of the warehouse and saw Anthea waiting for him at the top of a nearby hill. He walked over and got in the car, waiting inside while texting Lestrade.
“So that’s your charge, huh?” Mary asked.
John sighed. “I guess.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t know what he is to me.”
Mary snorted. “Everything?” she teased.
John chuckled. “Oi.”
“You haven’t changed,” Mary said. “It’s not a bad thing though. It’s good that you know what you want and you work for it with all you’ve got. And good thing you two live together, I suppose.”
"If you say so."
“Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”
"Whatever."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The two waited on the roof, watching out for the white van. They had reached out to another victim's family and agreed to pay the ransom on their behalf to ensure the kidnapper would return to the warehouse so they could drop off the other victim.
The moment the man reached out for the front door, Mary jumped down onto his back and hit his temple hard enough to knock him out. John jumped down next to her and dragged the unconscious man to the black van while Mary fetched the other victims to lead them to the van as well.
After everything was taken care of, John walked off towards the black car parked on the hill and waved at Anthea who was standing by the driver seat.
"Thanks, Anthea," John said. "I'll drive this one back to Baker Street. You alright taking Mary and the others back?"
"Sure," Anthea said, handing the car key to John. "Don't crash."
John snorted. "I was joking when I said I wanted to be in action movies' car chase scene."
He got into the car while Anthea went towards the black van parked across the street, where Mary and the other victims, as well as the unconscious kidnapper, were. Soon enough, they were driving back into town.
"You were together with her, weren't you?"
"Yes, a long time ago."
"How long is a long time ago?"
John chuckled, glancing over at Sherlock before returning his eyes onto the road. "Jealous?"
"Should I be?"
"No," John said. "I told you, you have no reason to be."
They drove in relative silence for a while, and when they finally reached an open road, John relaxed slightly.
"When I was still a medical student."
"So, thirty years ago?"
John burst out laughing. "Brat," he said. "It was a while, I suppose. Her family had to move and we decided to go our separate ways."
"No interest in a long-distance relationship, then?"
"No," John shook his head. "We both knew I need proximity and intimacy. I... ah, we didn't keep in touch either. I think she was under the impression that if we did, I wouldn't be able to move on."
"How did you meet her again?"
"Assigned to be her backup," John said. "A substitute, remember? Her usual partner wasn't available so I stepped in. I usually work alone, though. This was an exception."
"I know," Sherlock said. After all, the case didn't just involve him; it also involved the other kidnapping victims, and they needed more manpower. "Is she right?"
He saw John's hands tighten minutely around the steering wheel, before they relaxed again. John turned to look at him again, his expression fond and exasperated at the same time, which was becoming a rather regular occurence.
"No," he said, looking back at the road. "I don't think she is."
Sherlock hummed. "You're not going to ask me?"
"If you have anyone I could be jealous of?" John asked, chuckling. He thought back to the people Sherlock considered more than a stranger; Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, and even Irene. "Do I even have the right to be?"
Sherlock turned away. "It doesn't matter."
"Sherlock--"
"There's no reason for you to be either."