I'm being very generous and giving you 2 chapters in 2 days because I have a few GCSE's coming up and I won't be able to write! :'( ikr! Gutted! So I hope you enjoy this next bit and keep watching out for the next chapter! (Reviews are love!)

Sherlock was lying on the floor in a dark room. He couldn't tell how big it was let alone where he was! And what was that pain in his head? Not a hangover, Sherlock didn't drink (or eat for that matter!), so it must be drugs; he didn't take drugs willingly, so he must have been drugged by someone. He doesn't eat or drink so his food wasn't spiked so he must have… oh! Suddenly it all came flooding back. The door bursting… John. Oh God, John! Was he ok! Had they captured him too? Who was this they? Sherlock knew it wasn't only one person. An individual couldn't have organised all of this, so it had to be someone with influence. He went through the list of people it could be: Moriarty, no, this wasn't his style and he wanted to stay low if he knew what was good for him. Mycroft, a possibility, but why would he use all of the force of capturing him and using chloroform! He could have simply… I don't know… captured John to get at him. John! How had he left him? He'd hidden him in the cupboard hadn't he? But Sherlock knew John, and he knew he wouldn't have stayed there. So, had they found him! Come to think of it, hadn't he heard a crash after he ran out of the kitchen? Maybe, just maybe, one of the pans had hit John and injured him of even (God forbid) knock him out. That would have been a stroke of luck (as long as the kidnappers didn't look in the kitchen.)

"Oh, John, I'm so sorry!" Sherlock subconsciously spoke out loud.

"Awwh isn't that sweet!" Mycroft! Sherlock jumped in fright (well… as well as you can jump whilst lying on the floor). "Sherlock is wondering about his little boyfriend!"

Sherlock visibly scowled, even though the room was pitch black and there was no way that Mycroft could see him. "What have you done to him?" Sherlock sneered.

Mycroft walked over to the doorway to the room and flicked on a switch on the wall. Suddenly the whole room was ablaze with light, and even Sherlock had to squint before his eyes adjusted. "Oh, don't fret little brother. Your 'lover' is fine. He's going to have a bad headache from that saucepan though." Mycroft mock winced. "That wasn't my people though so you can't blame me."

"If you so much as touch him-"

"Oh, I wouldn't! You know I wouldn't Sherlock. The same way I never touched any of the 'others'."

"They weren't the same as John. He's… different."

"Ooooh! Has my little brother found himself a proper boyfriend now! Not just one of those stupid… 'experiments' you called them? I think Mummy should know about this! Oh, that reminds me, have you been to visit her recently?"

"Mycroft, you know the dead don't know or care what happens in the world."

"It's still nice to think though isn't it; that she knows what we're doing, all day, every day. Rather like me knowing exactly what you're doing! It's a lovely thought isn't it!"

Sherlock could feel Mycroft's cheesy grin boring into his soul. There was so much malice in him that Sherlock couldn't tell whether he was hated everything about him or just hated him for the fact that Sherlock had found love, because that's what it was, before his older brother.

"I suppose I'd better let you get back to your 'flat' with your 'boyfriend' then hadn't I!" He made the speech mark signs in the air with his fingers to emphasise his words. "I've found out all I need to know."

Mycroft walked over until he was in front of Sherlock who was still lying on the floor, and pointed his cane towards his brother. Sherlock ignored the aid that was offered to him and stood up of his own accord, even though he did go very dizzy for a second. The detective straightened his compulsory scarf and adjusted his collar so that it was perfectly straight all the way around before he followed Mycroft out of the small room and into a clinically white corridor with only the one door, back into the room, and no windows.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to chloroform you again; can't have you knowing where you were taken to, and all that! Don't worry, we'll take you back home and John will find you and you needn't tell anyone what happened. Just say it was a typical kidnapping and I wasn't involved." Mycroft put extra emphasis on the last three words of the sentence, and with a cheery wave, Sherlock was grabbed from behind and had yet handkerchief over his mouth. And for the second time that day, Sherlock collapsed into unconsciousness.