Welcome to this year's Halloween offering. Like last year it was originally intended to be a short one-shot, but there was more story to be told.
The chapters are short, and will be posted one per night from now until Halloween.
Thanks to MapleleafCameo for once more checking this out and finding all my lost commas (amongst other things).
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit...don't think that's fair!

Despite the seriousness of the crime the chase was exhilarating, and once more John was put in mind of their very first case together.

"Hurry John, we'll lose him!"

"Yeah, you said that last time too." John huffed under his breath as he sprinted up the metal staircase and on to the roof.

Sherlock hadn't waited; he was already on the next roof, near the edge and peering down as he ran.

"Oi, be careful."

"I can't see him John, he must have...no! There he is!"

Looking around him Sherlock weighed up the possibility of jumping to the next building, and having made up his mind he started to take a run.

"No you don't." John grabbed his arm. "You'll never make it – neither will I."

"John." The younger man pulled out of his grasp. "We have to, otherwise he'll get away."

"Greg can pick him up."

Rolling his eyes Sherlock peered once more over the edge of the roof.

"Look, he's there! He thinks he's lost us. Just one more roof John, then we'll have him." He paced back to take a last run and jump.

And John knew, as he always had known, that he would follow this idiotic genius no matter what.

xXx

Some things never change, and as the detective and his blogger fell through the front door and up the stairs to their flat their giggles echoed around them.

Still running on adrenaline John made tea while Sherlock sent a text to Lestrade demanding that the next job be more than just a four, and they settled down with their drinks still laughing about the look of shock on the perpetrator's face.

Despite the shortening days and the wet, blustery weather, the two flatmates eschewed their usual blaze in the grate; their minds were too occupied – Sherlock explaining the intricacies of the last case that had bypassed his friend's notice, and John making mental notes to add to his blog.

Neither could say how long they sat talking, but the light was almost gone and the streetlamps were starting to cast an eerie glow over the room when the doorbell rang. Sherlock's head came up and he listened intently.

"Maximum pressure, just under the half second..." he said, his voice almost a whisper in the still room.

The two men looked at each other and grinned.

"Client!"

They listened intently to the sound of murmured introductions, and then the tread of feet on the stairs – Mrs Hudson, two others.

Sherlock rubbed his hands together and sat back.

Moments later Mrs Hudson opened the door and switched the lights on, ushering a young couple into the living room.

The consulting detective looked up at them, his most attentive expression plastered onto his face.

xXx

Mrs Hudson looked around the empty room, her eyes sad but resigned to the knowledge that she couldn't afford to let the room lay unoccupied any longer.

"It's been empty for a year you say?" the newly wed young lady looked around, seeing nothing but emptiness and old furniture and dust. "Why have you waited so long to rent it out again?"

"Shhh Jen, I don't think that really matters."

He was a nice young man, Mrs Hudson thought, thoughtful in the same way that her John had been.

"It took me a while to arrange for their belongings to be removed, and that nice Mr Holmes, Sherlock's brother, had it redecorated for me."

"Yes, it takes time Mrs Hudson, I'm sure." Turning to his wife the young man said "Well my love? What do you think?"

"Holmes? Wasn't he that detective?"

Gesturing for the couple to take a seat on the couch Martha Hudson lowered herself into John's chair, her back ramrod straight and her voice steady as she explained.

"A year ago today, Sherlock and John were chasing a man who had kidnapped and murdered the son of an American newspaper magnate." She looked down at her hands and sighed. "He was on a motorbike, they were cutting across the rooftops – that last roof, they jumped, landed safely, but then the supporting wall gave way, and they fell seventy feet, along with the wall and half of the roof."

She looked up again and a reminiscent smile crossed her lips.

"Their last case. After everything that had happened they finally went together, both killed outright." She paused, and her smile widened. "And despite everything, they still got their man!"