Sherlock knew something was wrong when he woke up, and didn't hear John typing on his computer. He always typed, whether he was sick or not John couldn't go a day without writing something, so why wasn't he typing? Sherlock hopped out of bed listening for the sound of John sleeping in the other room, but only heard the silence of the flat echoing all around him. He went to the living room to see John's computer smashed on the floor and a cup of tea spilt on the table. John was nowhere to be seen.
"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called for Mrs. Hudson, to come up, maybe she had seen something, maybe John just had to leave in a hurry, something could have happened to Molly. No, he would never leave in such a manner as to break his computer, that was the one posession that he lived, and breathed for. He had to have been taken, but by who, and where did they take him? It seemed that thay never got a break did they? Mrs. Hudson suddenly came walking into the flat.
"For Heaven's sake Sherlock, what is the matter? It is 4:00 in the morning-" taking in her surroundings for the first time, Mrs. Hudson began to look worried."What happened here? Sherlock are you hurt, where's John?" Sherlock ran his hand through his hair, obviously she didn't know where John was either, this was getting nowhere fast, and now he had Mrs. Hudson worried.
"Mrs. Hudson, I need you to focus, did you see or hear anything unusual last night?" Sherlock suddenly noticed a strange taste in his mouth that didn't taste like anything he had eaten or drank the previous night. The taste was bitter, familiar almost, but he couldn't place it, he tried to ignore it for the moment. It was then that he realized he'd missed what Mrs. Hudson had said, although he knew she hadn't seen anything. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."
"I'm sorry Sherlock, but I didn't hear a thing last night I slept like a baby." Mrs. Hudson stood there staring at Sherlock for a few moments and finally asked " Sherlock, are you alright? you look frazzled"
"Yes Mrs. Hudson, I'm fine you can go back to your room, I need some time to think." Sherlock, though, wasn't fine, he was worried. He'd ran the scene through his mind trying to find something out of place, but there was only the computer and the tea. He kept trying to think why he wouldn't have been woken by the noise and then it hit him, chlorophorm, he'd been drugged. That explained alot, but he still didn't have any evidence as to who took John, he took a closer look at the scene, looking on the table, on the floor, and in the chair, until he saw a small pile of yellow powder. The substance was unfamiliar to him, until it all clicked into place. Demons, John had been taken by demons. Sherlock knew he wasn't well informed enough to take care of this on his own. He needed help, and he knew just who to ask. Rushing to his desk, Sherlock grabbed his address book, and quickly found the numbers he was looking for. Picking up his phone he dialed the first number and waited, after three rings the answering box picked up. He quickly dialed the second one, and got an answer on the first ring.
"Hello, who is this?" the voice on the other end answered.
" Hello Sam, are you and Dean up for a little plane ride? I need your help?"