Sherlock was frozen in place, staring at Harry. She tries to give him a weak closed mouth smile but it quickly falls back into a sad frown. Sherlock could see she was debating what to do: hug him or turn away.

Clearing his throat and pushing the tears that threatened to spill away, he stepped back.

She gives a nod, almost as if agreeing with his action. "W.. Er.. What do you want to do? We could wait, he might have just gone for a walk to calm his nerves. He was so nervous when I saw him but he was happy too, I'm sure he's just got lost in that big garden or something"

When she realises that she was rambling on about her brother she cut herself off and gave Sherlock an apologetic look. She was trying to say she understood and was here for him. Sherlock didn't bother to point out that she couldn't know how he felt because she has never been left at the alter by the love of her life.

Sherlock could not bring himself to say a word. All he could do was think. His body may have been still and seemingly in shock but his mind was reeling with possibilities.

He currently had two main theories.

One: John had decided that he didn't love Sherlock anymore and had run off to restart his Sherlock-free life with some pretty woman somewhere (Many of Sherlock's other theories were similar to this and branched off the idea that John's love for Sherlock had disappeared within the past 24 hours)

Two: John really had gone for some air to calm his nerves and got lost in the maze of a garden this church had or had wondered too far and not realised the time.

If Sherlock believed in God he would have dropped to his knees and prayed for it to be theory number two.

Suddenly Mycroft was beside his brother, his presence providing Sherlock with a more rational view. He shouldn't think with his emotions too much, but think logically. That was what Mycroft was saying, with just his presence and one glance at his brother.

Sherlock nods. Logical, Sherlock, be logical.

John's left you. He's never coming back.

"Sherlock.." Mycroft warns, giving the detective a pointed look.

And God help him, he tries. He tries desperately to block away his emotions, and that annoying inner voice, and home in on the point Mycroft was making. Because there was a point, Sherlock could sense it. It was right there, staring him in the face.

What? What?!

"Think Sherlock. Build the wall" His brother taunts, an odd smirk forming in his lips.

Sherlock takes it back. He wants Nice Mycroft back, the one that would tell him what he's missing.

Missing. Missing. Something! Missing. John. John. John's gone.

He's gone, Sherlock. Gone forever.

Sherlock balls his fists up and sucks in a deep breath, holding in as much oxygen as he could before slowly releasing it. He slides a hand through his hair and stares at all the people around the room.

Good, emotion out, logic in.

"You're slipping, brother dear, so come on then, tell me, where's John?" Mycrofts has crossed his arms by this point, looking as insufferable and superior as ever.

The guests were watching the scene intently, not knowing what else to do. Ms Hudson and their mother were stood close together, watching the brother work, knowing that's what they were doing- even if it was in their own messed up way. John's mother was whispering to Harry, sending Sherlock pitiful looks. Molly was frozen in place, staring at door with her mouth slightly open as if she couldn't believe it. The unnamed couple sat, plain faced and patient. All these people could do is watch and wait to see of they're was going to be a wedding.

No wedding. You're all alone now Sherlock.

He easily dismisses the voice as he scans the crowd searching for something.

He is Sherlock Holmes. The chance of his enemies allowing his wedding to go without a hitch was highly unlikely.

Now he thought about it he felt silly for not considering this earlier. He'd blame it n the fact he was too happy about marrying John to think rationally but he knows he should have thought of it.

Sherlock's eyes settle on Mary then, John's close friend with far too many secrets. It was clear to Sherlock that Mary wanted John back, despite their relationship being as brief as two weeks. He studies her with keen eyes. She gives him a wicked smile, her eyes sparkling with rivalry.

But this was nothing to do with her. No, she was as shocked by the current events as any of those here. She was, however, the only one showing she was happy with outcome.

"He's been taken" Sherlock concludes, looking away from the blonde woman "But not by a guest"

Mycroft nods, almost in approval. "Good. What else?"

Sherlock hums, eyes darting around the room. He counts the speakers.

"He's waiting. A question. He wants to hear a question" Sherlock speaks his thoughts, to show Mycroft he was getting it.

The oldest Holmes turns towards his brother, giving him a small pat on the shoulder before he saunters off back to his position between Lestrade and Stamford. Sherlock watches him go, glaring.

He'd never admit it but he admired Mycroft's reluctance to help. He liked the way he let Sherlock figure things out, only giving him a nudge in the right direction should he need it. Sherlock's eyes suddenly narrow even more.

He knew. Mycroft had known something like this would happen. The taller man shrugs at his brother, smiling playfully. Behind that smile however lies something more sincere. Sherlock could see in his eyes that he was there as a back up, as a plan B, should Sherlock need to fall back on him.

Both knew he wouldn't. Not now.

Sherlock had noted the extra speaker, and had figured out the question and motive. He would save John. He'd save his John just like John had saved him so many times before.

With a wicked grin Sherlock takes a step forward, drawing everyone's complete attention to him (most were already watching him anyway).

"Does anyone know where the groom is?" He asks, in a loud overpowering voice that seemed to bounce around the room.

Harry looks at him like he'd grown a second head. Behind him, Lestrade let's out a small breath, recognising this side of Sherlock. His working, logical, emotionless side.

The speakers came to life the moment he'd got the question out. A burst of sudden static making the guests cover their ears and flinch away from the sound. The static continues for a few moments, keeping everyone- minus the Holmes brothers- in the dark.

Drama Queen, Sherlock thinks with an eye roll.

Then the room was filled with laughter. Manic, sickening, deadly laughter.

"I do!" A soft Irish voice drawls from the speakers, almost singing the words as he mocks the detective.

It has the desired effect. Sherlock freezes for a moment, fake smile dropping as a wave of images John being hurt in various torturous ways fill his mind and threaten to take away the control he had gained.

Sherlock spares a brief glance at his brother before he looks to the Detective Inspector, who now understood.

Without so much as an explanation Lestrade and Sherlock stride over to the large doors John was supposed to appear from. They need to see John's preparation room, no doubt their dear friend Moriarty left them clues.

Lestrade pulls out his phone, contacting people as he follows after Sherlock into the back corridor leading to the room John was in.

They enter the room and Sherlock can understand why Harry thought John had gone of his own accord. There were only two things that pointed towards John being abducted from the small room, which was identical to the one Sherlock had been in but reserved. Anyway, the two things that were out of place, not even Mycroft would spot. Sherlock bets that even Moriarty didn't recognised one of them as clues.

But John was clever. And Sherlock knew John.

One thing he knew after living with John for years as that the doctor would never leave a room without placing his favourite book back in place unless it was an emergency or he was taken. So the moment Sherlock spotted the well looked after book laying on the sofa it only back up his theory.

He crosses to the sofa and picks up the book, turning it over and scanning it for further clues.

John had been reading to calm his nerves, the bottom of the front cover was uncharacteristically bent. John's fingers were fiddling unconscious as he likely half read and half watched the clock.

Other then that it showed nothing. Well, nothing of significance to finding John's location.

Next, Sherlock eyes fall on the second thing that was out of place.

John had come here wearing a jumper and jeans, as that was what he packed in his overnight bag before he left to stay at Lestrades for the evening. Tradition to not see each other on the day and all.

It occurs to Sherlock then how inconsistent they were with traditional and non-traditional aspects of their wedding. He disregarded the new facts, focusing on the tie on the floor.

A clue left by Moriarty.

Sherlock picks up the silky grey fabric and examines it. Turkish, high quality, fair new, part of a set.

"Are you tracing his phone?" Sherlock asks as he continues to look over the tie, doubling checking for possible deductions he's missed.

Lestrade nods, still typing on his phone. "Mm. Sally's on it now"

Sherlock replies with his own nod. Just as he's about to drop the tie he received a message, the 'ding' his phone made slicing through the silence like a knife.

John looks lovely, doesn't he? Very nice suit. I see why you like him. I don't think he likes it here so much though, too many memories... -Jim xx

Sherlock makes a sound of disgust before walking out of the room and the church, knowing exactly where Moriarty had taken John.

Once outside he nods to Mycroft, who stood smoking, as a silent show of appreciation before he walks to the main road and holds out a hand to hail a cab. Lestrade is a moment behind him and arrives just as the black cab is pulling up.

"He's at Bards" Lestrade says, nodding towards the cab in silent question.

Sherlock slides in and leaves the door open, his way of saying Lestrade can join him. The DI climbs in, sitting beside Sherlock and closing the door quickly. Sherlock tries for a friendly smile, knowing Lestrade was worried for his friend.

Lestrade just looks at him for a moment before he gives a small hesitant smile back. He then faces the front, finding the sudden show of friendliness from Sherlock too much.

The cabbie clears his throat then. "Where to boys?"

"The nearest graveyard" Sherlock answers quickly, drumming his fingers against his leg.

Lestrade frowns "Sherlock, he's at--"

"His phone is at Bards. He is not. He's been missing for twenty minutes at the most. Bards is over an hour away. Moriarty is already where he wants to be and going by the message I received the only possible place within twenty minutes is the graveyard in which I was supposedly buried for two years" Sherlock speaks in one big breath, not caring if Lestrade understood any of what he just said.

Apparently years of listening to Sherlock had made it easy for Lestrade to keep up with his speed. The silvery-grey haired man nods at Sherlock, tapping a few things on his phone.

"Police will be of little help"

Lestrade smirks a little, glad to be the one correcting Sherlock for once. "Yes, but I'm sure your brother will be of great help"

Sherlock only raises an eyebrow at that. Goldfish.

Usually Sherlock would love to ponder over ways to make his brother uncomfortable but right now he had far more important things on his mind. Getting his boyfriend back so they can get married, for example.