It started off like any normal day, rain hitting the window, the smell of coffee from the kitchen leaking into the rest of the living space. Sherlock was in his room getting ready for the day. John however had started his day a little bit earlier than usual, trying to read through as many cases as possible for him and sherlock to take. He decided on two and would let sherlock pick which one he really wanted to do. As sherlock stepped out of his room, heading for his spot, john speaking up. "I've got two cases for you to read and go over. They're both interesting but I think you'll like the second one a lot more." John stands up, handing sherlock a cup of coffee and the files.
Sherlock takes the files and placed the cup of coffee on the nearby table. He opened the first one and immediately got bored, tossing it to the side. He then opened the other one and perked up, heart racing and smile getting wide. "This case is beautiful!" He stands up tall and tossed john the file. "Call that man in! I want a word with him immediately!" Sherlock was excited. The case he had just read was interesting to say the least. It Was definitely going to take up all his time if its true.
John catches the file. I bit reluctant to call at first. He stands up and wandered over to his mobile phone, calling the number on the first page. "Hello? Is this Mr. Williams?" John taps his foot lightly, looking at the mans photo. "Yes, sherlock is willing to take your case. Please come down to 221b baker street. Or the place where you had your file sent if that helps." John hangs up the phone, sitting next to sherlock. "He's on his way."
Sherlock waited impatiently for the male to show up. Once the man made the first knock sherlock jumped out of his seat. Rushing towards the door. "Sean! Hello. Welcome to my flat. Please sit down!" He leads the other to the living space, motioning Sean to sit down in the chair. Once Sean sat down, Sherlock quickly moved to his own chair, leaning close. "So tell me more about your case." Sherlock said enthusiastically. Sean shifted awkwardly in his chair, nodding. John opened a notebook, grabbing a pen off of the table in front of them. "So, as it said in my case file. I'm pretty sure my therapist is trying to kill us. He's just driving us to commit suicide. He talks us into hating our lives so much that we leave the office feeling worse about ourselves. Usually that means they're getting to the bottom of things but we've just had another suicide in my group therapy class. That's four people dead in less than three months." Sherlock placed his hands against each other, pressing them up against his lips. "So, you think your therapist is a crazed serial killer?" Sean nodded. "Yes I think so. He's always texting someone when one of us brings up something that scares us, or what we're most worried about. Sometimes he takes notes if he's really interested in a person before they go missing the next day." Sherlock nodded slowly and stands up. "Get out. I'll help you but I need time to process everything." John stands up, helping Sean to the door.
Sherlock gets all giddy and kissed the file. "A serial killer who's a therapist, that drives his patients to kill themselves. Genius, Get them to do the dirty work for you." Sherlock heads into the other room to grab his trench coat. "Let's go! I don't want to waste any time."
John goes into the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee into travel, throw away cups. He hands one to sherlock before he grabbed his own. "Alright, I'm ready." As they head out to the therapy office john couldn't help but recognize the building. It was the same place his wife goes to. John walked beside sherlock as they head towards the lift. "How long to you think this is going to take?" John asked and sherlock looked down at his watch. "I give it about thirty minutes. Five minutes to get there. Five minutes to leave. So twenty minutes of talking." The lift stops and they both get out, john walked up to the front desk with his, "badge" the women working the front desk smiling. "How can I help you?" She asked, trying to be as friendly as possible. "Mr Jones office please." She nods. "Down the hall, fourth door on the left." Sherlock immediately goes that way, opening the door to see the man sitting at his desk. "Oh hello, how can I help you?" He smiled and Sherlocks eyes scan every inch of the room, then they scan every inch of him. "I've come to speak to you about your dying patients. Weird that, that many have dies so close to each other." Dr Jones shrugged, "yes, it's been a struggle to say the least. I can only do my best. I tried to reach out to them when I notice they get scared or desperate." Sherlocks eyes narrowed. Its like this man knew sherlock had read the file. "Yes, it is. Once one suicide happens it opens the doors to others as you know." Dr Jones nods. "Which is why I am here. To try and prevent as many of those as possible." Sherlock sits in the chair and rubbed a thumb over his own lip. "Is that why you're convincing them to kill themselves. Forget about group therapy. One on one you're probably telling them how worthless their lives really are." Sherlock snapped and the mans eyes furrowed. "Get the hell out of my office. And come back when you have real paperwork to interrogate me." Sherlock stands up and smiled. "Of course." Dr Jones stands up, locking the door behind them as they leave.
Once sherlock and john are in the lift Dr Jones makes a call. "Sherlock is onto me, I need you to go into phase two of the plan. If you don't you know what comes your way." Dr Jones hangs up and goes back to work.
Sherlock and john sit inside of the flat, sherlock going over the victims and their phobias. "John, would you mind leaving me alone for a little bit. I just need a moment to myself." John nodded and gets out of his chair, placing his laptop onto the table. "Yeah of course. Text me when I should come back. And don't pass out again. I don't want to carry your very tall, lanky body back to bed." John pulled on his coat and heads out, closing the door softly behind him.
As sherlock sat in complete silence, he was left alone with just his thoughts and papers. About an hour into it he hears a small creak. "I thought I was supposed to text you when I was done." Sherlock stands up and turned around, a gun hitting him across the face. He stumbled, eyes slightly blurry. "Wait, I know y-" another smack across the face and sherlock went down, blood from his nose and the side of his head beginning to form a puddle. As the stranger sets sherlock up against the chair they begin ripping up papers and taking a few other things. Sherlocks blood soaked up into the edge of the couch and splashed in small drips onto the floor. Once the stranger was done messing things up, they picked sherlock up, walking out the door and to a black car, placing him in the back seat.
