Stranger: John grumbled and rolled over, curling up a bit more on the little toy sofa. “I’m not hungry, Jim. Go away.”
(pocket!John)

You: Jim’s lips curled up into a smile that was more of a sneer, “Oh, but Johnny-boy, you /need/ to. Food’s necessary for life, even for little things like yourself.”

Stranger: ”I don’t want anything.” The fabric of the toy couch was rough, nothing like when he was still in Sherlock’s hands. And the food wasn’t very good either. Mrs. Hudson would feed him pastry treats from the cafe downstairs, but with Jim it was all left overs. It was what he had come to expect from his new owner. That did mean he wasn’t thoroughly unhappy with the way his life had turned.

You: Jim rolls his eyes. “Suit yourself. Starve to death. See if I care.” Jim drops the box of takeaway curry beside the small couch and toy living room set up. “You’re not good for anything anyway.”

Stranger: Curling up a bit tighter, John huffed a bit and glared at the couch back. He was good for things. Sherlock had always liked him. Even if Sherlock was gone now.

You: Jim looks down at him in discontent and annoyance and leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the table that John’s living room was set up on and crosses his arms. “What did he /do/ with you anyway? You’re completely useless. You’re a rubbish pet. What purpose could possibly serve?”

Stranger: ”I made sure he ate. And I made his tea. And I made sure he relaxed.” John growled and turned over to glare at the man’s feet.

You: Jim snorts. “You ‘made sure he relaxed’? What is /that/ supposed to mean?”

Stranger: ”That he slept and didn’t spend all his time working.”

You: ”Well isn’t that just precious?” Jim scoops him up and drops him on the kitchen counter. “Make me some tea.”

Stranger: For a moment he just looked around the kitchen before glaring up at his owner. “And how am I suppose to do that? Your kitchen isn’t even set up for me to do that.”

You: Jim shrugs. “You’re smart aren’t you? Figure it out.”

Stranger: ”If you haven’t noticed, your kettle ways twenty times my own weight. Did you even read the booklet they gave you when you got me?”

You: Jim snorts. “No. I tossed it in the bin. I was actually supposed to /read/ that load of bollocks?” Jim grabs the tiny staircase and drops it next to John. “Here. Make it work.”

Stranger: ”Can you at least fill the kettle?” He asked, annoyed. “I can’t reach your bloody faucet.”

You: Jim gives him an amused look and fills the kettle, plopping it back onto the stovetop.

Stranger: John reached down to switch the stove on before going to retrieve a mug and and a teabag from the cabinet before rolling the mug over with some difficulty and then moving to put to teabag in the water.

You: Jim watches from the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed, amused by John’s struggles.

Stranger: While the tea was being prepared John move to get the sugar cubes out. “How much sugar, and you’ll have to get the milk out of the fridge if you want that as well.”

You: ”Two cubes.” Jim raises an eyebrow. “I don’t take it with /milk/, i take it with cream. There’s small packets of creamer behind the toaster.”

Stranger: Rolling his eyes, John went over to grab a few creamer packets. By that time the tea was done and John stood there for several seconds trying to figure out how to transfer it to the mug.

You: Jim raises an eyebrow at him expectantly. After a moment he rolls his eyes and then snatches the creamer packets. “For God’s sake. You’re not good for anything. I don’t know why he kept you.”

Stranger: He growled and fell back onto his back as the creamer was pulled from his hands. “I’m sorry I’m small! You shouldn’t have bloody bought me if you don’t even want me!”

You: Jim snorts again. “/BOUGHT/ you? Is that what you think happened? Oooh no, no, no, Johnny, dearest, I /stole/ you.”

Stranger: ”W-what?” He managed to get out, eyes widening.

You: Jim grins and picks up the tea, sipping at it. “Oh yes. I stole you. You don’t think I would actually /spend money/ on something as worthless as you.” Jim sticks out his lower lip, pouting and mocking John, “What? Are you going to cry now?”

Stranger: He started to say something, but then shut his mouth and turned, moving toward the side of the cabinet to climb down.

You: Jim watches him struggle down the side of the cabinet. “And just where do you think /you’re/ going?”

Stranger: He didn’t bother answering, falling the last four inches to the floor. He picked himself up and started to walk toward the frontdoor, intent on finding someway out of the flat and back home. “I’m going home.”

You: Jim laughs, still sipping at his tea. “Open your /eyes/ Johnny. You /ARE/ home. Wake up and smell the roses. This is it.”

Stranger: ”You stole me from Sherlock. I knew he wouldn’t actually get rid of me. I should have never listened to you.”

You: Jim laughs again. “No, you shouldn’t have, but it doesn’t matter because you’re /mine/ now. He probably hasn’t even noticed you’re missing.”

Stranger: ”I’m not yours’. And he will have noticed. He liked me. I’m /his/.”

You: Jim smashes the tea cup to the floor and growls, “You /WERE/ his.” Jim’s eyes flash dangerously as he looks down at John.

Stranger: He flinched at the sound of the cup hitting the floor but continued walking. “You don’t even want me.”

You: A slow smile spreads across his face and he examines his fingernails boredly, “I don’t recall ever saying that. …i /do/ want you, but only because you were his.” He pounds his fist on the countertop again and snarls, “But /now/ you’re mine.” Jim is suddenly amused, “Ohh poor Sherlly, he’s actually probably looking for you everywhere. I bet he thinks you ran off on him.” Jim pouts in mockery, “I bet he thinks you left him all alone…”

Stranger: John made it to the doorway and began to search for some way out. “I’m not yours’, Jim.”

You: ”Um yes. I think you’ll find that you are.” Jim moves to follow him, leaning against the wall, watching as John looks for a way out. “finders keepers…”

Stranger: ”I don’t think that counts.” He moved under the couch and along the wall as he searched for any crack he could slip through.

You: ”Well I think it does, and unfortunately for /you/ my opinion is the only one that counts.”

Stranger: ”I don’t care.”

You: ”Well good, because I wouldn’t have cared if you cared or not. Now why don’t you be a good boy and come out from under the couch before i drop you in the fish tank and don’t let you out for a week?”

Stranger: John didn’t move from under the couch because he had in fact found a small hole in the wall. He slipped in and found it didn’t actually do anywhere, but it went far enough back that he looked like he disappeared.

You: In his lilting Irish accent Jim sings, “Oh Joooohnnnny. Come out, come out, where ever you are!”

Stranger: He stayed quiet, pulling his knees up to his chest.

You: Jim frowns when John doesn’t respond. “John? …JOHN!” Jim snarls his name and stomps over to the couch and gripping it, rips it away from the wall to reveal the small crack. Angry rips through Jim and he drops to his stomach and looks into the hole and then smirks as he sees John sitting within. “You can’t stay in there forever, you know.”

Stranger: ”I’d rather die in here than be out there with you, you bastard.” He looked forward at the wall.

You: Jim laughs and sticks his fingers into the hold to pluck John out.

Stranger: He pushed back, just out of the reach of the criminal’s fingers. “Go. Away.”

You: ”Damnit! Come’ere you little prick!” Jim shoves his fingers in farther.

Stranger: ”No.” He reached the back of the hole.

You: Jim makes a noise of annoyance then stands to go grab a pair of needle nose pliers to try and plug him out.

Stranger: After Jim momentarily left John quickly climbed out and made a dash for under the coffee table, disappearing under it as Jim returned to the room.

You: Jim comes back a moment later and crouches back down and notices the hole his empty. He makes a noise of rage and slams the pliers onto the floor. “JOHN!”

Stranger: John hid as the man yelled and then surveyed the room, looking for somewhere to move to.

You: Jim moves around the room, looking under things, the couch, the other chairs, the small end tables, and yells again, “JOHN! Get the FUCK out here!”

Stranger: While the other man was looking under furniture, the little man made a dash for the hallway the frontdoor was located in.

You: Jim growls and calls his name out again, moving his search to the kitchen, throwing the chairs and bar stools out of his way.

Stranger: He ran to hide next to the doorway to wait for the next time somebody came in or left. Maybe Sebastian.

You: Jim moves to the dinning room, calling out his name, enraged. Meanwhile, Sherlock looks up at the unfamiliar townhouse before him. This might be it. He had found two other of Jim’s safe houses and hadn’t found John there. Of course he was only 93.4% that John was with Jim, but it was a risk he was willing to take for his little friend. Sherlock slowly approaches the door, looking for any sort of recording or video device. He didn’t see one, so he approached the door slowly and carefully peeked through the narrow side window next to the door and looked into the entryway, unsure if anyone was home.

Stranger: John stayed there crouched behind a pile of shoes when he heard someone outside. This was his chance.

You: Sherlock reaches out and tries the handle. It’s locked. It didn’t look like anyone was home. He pushes his ear to the door listening. His heart skips a beat when he hears and enraged voice scream, “JOHN!” Sherlock tries the handle more frantically, but it doesn’t give, desperately, he puts his hand against the glass and squints into the room unsure of what to do, “John…”

Stranger: He looked up and saw the detective peering in, but there was no way he’d be able to see him where he was crouching. John quickly backpedaled into the hallway so he’d be visible.

You: Sherlock sees movement out of the corner of his eye and glances down to see John. His eyes widen and he flattens his hand against the glass. “John!” Sherlock keeps his voice low, “John, can you hear me?”

Stranger: He could, barely. But he nodded all the same, not wanting to alert Jim to him.

You: Sherlock nods. “Right…John…just—just stay there for a moment.” Sherlock backs up to look at the door, running his fingers along it. He bends to look at the lock. He hadn’t brought his lock picking kit, and he berated himself for leaving it behind. He needed something sharp. He leans to run his fingers along the bottom of the door. There /might/ be enough space for John to slide something out under the plastic bit. Sherlock returns to the window. “John—John, i need you to get something sharp so i can pick the lock and slide it under the door—can you find something?”

Stranger: After a second he nodded. He remembered Jim leaving a nail file in the living room a few days ago. It was probably still there. John motioned for Sherlock to wait a moment as he ran back into the livingroom to retrieve the nail file, which had fallen under the coffee table in easy reach.

You: ”John, when I fucking find you, you’re DEAD!” Jim howls in rage and kicks over a large vase sitting on the floor, shattering it, causing pieces to dance and skitter across the floor.

Stranger: All the more reason to let his rightful owner in. John retrieved the file and dashed back to the hallway, quickly pushing the file under the door.

You: Jim turns just in time to see John dash towards the door, and he screams in anger and storms after him. Sherlock sees Jim round the corner and start to advance down the hall just as the nail file slides under the door, Sherlock grabs it and starts working on the lock as fast as he can. Suddenly, the lock pops and Sherlock rips the door open just as Jim reaches it. Jim, who had been focusing on John hadn’t seen Sherlock and is caught completely off-guard as he scoops to snatch up John and is knocked backwards by Sherlock’s knee colliding with his jaw as he hurls himself into the house.

Stranger: John flinched and ran to the edge of the hallway, out of the way of the fighting men, impossibly frightened, but glad that Sherlock had found him.

You: Jim is knocked backwards onto the floor and Sherlock immediately drops to straddle his hips to pin him down and starts wailing on him, Jim trying to both shield himself and fight back. It takes a good minute or so before Sherlock delivers a hard blow to Jim’s temple knocking him out. Sherlock winces and looks at his bloody knuckles and down at the unconscious man beneath him, knowing he should just kill him now, but can’t bring himself to do so. Sherlock’s head swivels around as he climbs off of him. “John?”

Stranger: ”I’m—I’m here.” He came out of his hiding place, running to Sherlock’s knee to grip the fabric and bury his face in it with a little sigh of relief. “I’m here.”

You: Sherlock also sighs and gently scoops him up in his hands, holding him in front of his face. “John…” He gives him a relieved smile. “I’m sorry i didn’t get here sooner—at first, I thought you’d run off..”

Stranger: ”Jim—he made me think you sold me. I’m sorry I thought that. I know you’d never sell me.” He held onto the fingers under him tightly.

You: Sherlock frowns a bit at him, “I would /never/ sell you, John. You don’t “sell” friends.”

Stranger: ”F-friends?” He smiled almost shyly.

You: Sherlock blinks at him as if it was the most obvious thing thin the world. “Of course.”

Stranger: ”I’m glad.” He glanced at the criminal before looking back up at Sherlock. “Can we go home now, Sherlock?”

You: Sherlock smiles. “Sure. Pocket or shoulder?”

Stranger: ”Shoulder.”

You: ”Right.” Sherlock gently lifts John onto his shoulder, making sure he’s got a good grip on his popped collar before he stands up. “Ready to go?”

Stranger: ”Yes’m.” He leaned up against Sherlock as he stood.

You: Sherlock steps over the unconscious Jim and heads out the door, closing it behind them and heads back to baker street.