Things were good after that, really good. Sherlock couldn’t imagine being happier. He had everything he’d wanted and so much he’d never thought he’d need. He loved the casual intimacy of it all. Loved running his hand through John’s hair as he passed him in the kitchen. Loved the way he could creep up behind John and press open mouthed kisses to John’s neck that would make him moan. Loved dancing with John. Sometimes late at night, he would pull John to his chest and they would just sway and Sherlock’s heart would feel fit to burst and the joy he felt would be consuming and overwhelming, and nothing could touch their bubble of happiness as they danced together in the quiet of the night.

It happened one evening when after they had returned from Sherlock’s parents’ house where they had been making wedding plans. John had gone out to get takeout and didn’t return.
“Lestrade, John’s missing.”
“Have you tried calling him?”
“Have I tried–? Of course I have! He went out to get takeout at the Indian restaurant down the road four hours ago. He took his phone, it was on and charged. Now get your fucking people on it or whatever department handles this kind of thing!”
“On it now. I’ll meet you at the restaurant and we’ll try to find out where he was taken from”

There was woefully little evidence: a dropped bag of takeaway was all they could find. That didn’t stop Sherlock from working day in and day out to find John. He scoured the city, called in every favor, put out offers of massive rewards to his homeless network or anyone who could offer any information about the disappearance of John Watson. Scotland Yard put their best team onto the case, even Mycroft offered some of his people and access to any CCTV recording. Sherlock barely slept, barely ate, and looked gaunt and ill all of the time. When a month had passed and there were no leads, the support steadily trickled off until Sherlock was the only one still looking.

“You really need to eat something, dear.”
“No time, I have too keep looking.”
“It’s been three months Sherlock, and nothing’s turned up, don’t you think you should take a break.”
“I have to keep looking. I can’t stop. I can’t— I can’t—“
“Oh, Sherlock. Come here, I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
“But what if I don’t Mrs. Hudson? What if I can’t find him?”
“There, there, everything will be alright. Just rest, have something to eat, it’ll all be there in the morning. I’m sure John can wait one more day.”