Sherlock and John burst through their flats door, unable to hold their excitement in any longer. John shut the door behind him and joined Sherlock in his adrenalin rush of completing their latest and most bizarre case. After standing around the front of their flat for a while, still slightly giggling; John made his to his armchair, thinking how ridiculous his day had been.
Four hours ago he and Sherlock had been running around all of London looking for a crazed maniac, who Sherlock swore was behind all of the murders; only to turn up at his so called 'secret base' and find him dead. The murderer had eluded the police for 3 weeks, managing to make people disappear off the streets and turn up 3 days later, with a completely different face. When Sherlock was brought in on the case he was able to deduce in less than a minute that the killer was a failing plastic surgeon and after losing his job for not being good enough at it, resorted to practicing on the innocence of London. How Sherlock got that all just from looking at the victims, John will never know.
Sherlock was utterly lost for all of 47 seconds, which is a new record for him John supposed, staring from the dead body to the surgical tools and table in the room. The answer finally hit him when he realized that this was indeed the murderer they were looking for, but simply someone else had gotten to him first. He had looked around the madman's base, searching through the medical tools for some sort of clue; when he realized, by the dust patterns on the floor he explained to John later on, that the killer of the killer, was still in there. Just then, a large man about 7ft 2in, stepped out from behind the corner and charged. John and Sherlock had never run faster. John vaguely wondered why today of all days he had left his gun back at the flat.
Sherlock led the way, taking turns through alley ways that John hadn't even seen, running at an almost in-human speed. No one seemed to notice this large man chase us around lower London at night. If there was someone who caught a glimpse of this, they did absolutely nothing to help them. Sherlock kept taking random paths, climbing over fences, even resorting to climbing through an open window and exiting out through the door. No matter what strange way they went, the man behind them kept up.
Just when they were finally getting some distance on the guy, John tripped on some beams left in the alleyway, fell hard to the ground and got the wind knocked out of him. Sherlock turned hearing the crash behind him and saw that John had fallen. He turned around as fast could go, helped John up and starting pulling him into a run again. John peered behind him to see that the giant man was a little less then 15ft behind them now. 'Bullocks' John thought to himself, his leg began to ache with pain as he attempted to keep up with Sherlock's fast pace. Just when John thought he couldn't run anymore, he saw Lestrade and his team we're waiting for them at the end of the long alley. When they had run by, the police tranquillized the man and shoved him inside the nearest police van. John laughed again, remembering how Sherlock demanded that Lestrade tell him how they knew where he was. Also something along the lines of Lestrade mentioning Mycroft's assisting.
Our statements were taken right there in the alley way where the man had been caught, the police force knew by now that Sherlock wouldn't actually show up to Scotland yard to give an 'official' one. Sherlock claimed that it was a waist of his good time. With that done the police left, Sherlock and John decided to walk back to the flat, stopping by a small Chinese restaurant on their way home.
The buzz of the case was finally wearing off John, as he relaxed into his chair, sipping on his newly made tea. Sherlock had lain down on his favorite couch, wearing in his pajamas covered by his silk robe. He had already had a frown upon his face, pondering over the facts; which was something John wouldn't dare to ask about. And yet, as John always does, John did.
"Sherlock, we just completed a case, what are you on about already?", John asked as he put his tea down on the only free space the table currently had.
Sherlock's eyelids popped open as he went to look at John, "Can't you see John, there are still so many unanswered questions!", Sherlock exclaimed. "Why did that man kill OUR murderer, who was he and what was he doing there…".
John sighed. "You couldn't tell by the coloring of his coat or maybe he had some bread crumbs on his left shoulder", he joked, Sherlock simply stared back at John his expression slowly turning into a glare.
"I could tell by his shaved head that he worked for someone else, probably military considering the tattoo on the back of his neck. By the fact that he had dust all the way up to his knees implies either he lived in very poor conditions or that he was hiding in that house for a long period of time and by the cost of his suit, I'm assuming the latter. By the amount of animal hair around his legs I would say 2 dogs, he served in the war but not recently because there's not much left of his tan. He is married, 5 year+ un-happily, so why on earth John, would this man kill the murderer? Was it orders for from his higher ups? Or was it his own personal Vendetta." Sherlock took a deep breath after spewing out of his facts, "And we'll never know because the police dragged him off, never to be seen again". He sighed dramatically and collapsed back onto his couch, cursing Mycroft under his breath.
John looked at Sherlock, flabbergasted. 'He just can never be happy unless he completely solves the case huh', he sighed mentally to himself. 'Well this is the first time that Sherlock hadn't known every single detail about a case since… I've known him'. John stretched in his tired limbs and yawned. He hadn't run around London much since the Blind Banker case and was feeling s bit more than sore, even though the new case was exciting, a man needed his sleep
"Ok Sherlock stay up all night if it makes you feel better, but I'm off to bed", John stood from his armchair, stretched once more and headed to the sink to put his now emptied tea cup inside it.
"Still working for that surgery center? I have plenty of money to cover some of your share John." Sherlock stated without moving on inch.
"That not what it's about Sherlock", John replied, "This is half my flat and I should be able to pay for it."
Sherlock sighed, "Fine, have a job then, how dull".
John too tired to argue with the genius anymore, stomped loudly off to bed. "g'night Sherlock", he grumbled closing his door behind him.
Sherlock waited another 30 minutes before he heard the faint sound of John's snoring from upstairs. Finally, Sherlock thought to himself as he jumped from the couch. He had quickly but quietly returned to his room and re-dressed himself in a 3 piece suit. Sherlock stalked out of his room as fast he went in and was ready for the night to begin. He was just about to run out the door when he heard a faint whimper from the room upstairs.
Faster than lightning Sherlock was outside of John's room, listening intently to the closed door. For a second he thought he had just imagined it when the sound came again not a second later. Sherlock decided to slowly open the door to check on his flatmate. The door slid open to reveal John curled into a ball on his bed, looking like he had started a cold sweat. Sherlock walked over to his sleeping friend and hovered over him for a second.
Sherlock considered waking John to end the nightmare when his hunger set it. 'So close…' Sherlock thought to himself, he leaned over john and took in his scent. He bent down and ran a finger slowly over John's exposed neck. John mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, turning into Sherlock's gentle touch. He felt John's heart beat relax underneath his fingertips. Sherlock's fangs slid down slowly from his mouth.
'Just one bite', the moment the thought had crossed Sherlock's mind, he expelled himself from John's room, leaving his door open in the rush. He grabbed his coat and was out the flat faster than a regular person could see. Why, because Sherlock Holmes was one of the last vampires in existence.