It was nearing two months since Sherlock Holmes had reappeared on John's doorstep, and it was starting to feel like they were back to normal, things would never be exactly the same, each would forever carry their own scars from their time apart, but they were almost whole again.

John had been coming on cases again for a couple of weeks, he was thinking about moving back into baker street, and he was even starting to forgive Sherlock, at least, he no longer wanted to punch him the entire time he could see his face.

Sherlock had woken up to a text from Lestrade informing him of a murder halfway across London that he thought could use his expertise, so John had woken up to a text from Sherlock seeing if he wanted to help, he fired off a quick reply, and, groaning, began to rise.

It was 7am when they arrived at the scene, and John could see immediately why Sherlock had been called. The victim was lying on their back on the pavement (though a forensics tent had been erected around the site as it was a fairly public area). It was a slim man of about 20, of average height with a handsome face and brown hair in disarray. He was dressed in a suit, but his jacket was thrown open with the front of his shirt in tatters on the ground and a huge S carved into his torso, the cause of death was obvious, a bullet wound in the middle of his forehead.

Sherlock instantly began flitting around the crime scene with his mini magnifier, Lestrade began outlining the details in the background 'Ethan Jones, 23, killed at about 6, found at half past by' when Sherlock stood up, and ran full pelt away from the crime scene to the nearest main road, John, of course, leapt into action after him, giving a placating look to an exasperated Lestrade over his shoulder.

Sherlock was waiting with a taxi; john leapt inside, and experienced a sudden moment of doubt and confusion as Sherlock said '221b Baker Street, fast as you can'. John looked at Sherlock, who simply started deducing about the murder victim "the angle of the wound tells me he was shot from the third window to the left of the first floor of the building opposite the body, the killer will have been too clever to leave much evidence, the size of the bullet and the impact speed shows he used an American sniper rifle, the fact it hit dead centre of the forehead shows the killer was an experienced gunman, ex military, probably a man, and a person more engaged by practicalities than theatrics. The cut was made with a partly serrated hunting knife minutes after death, the cut is completely straight, no sign of shaking so the death had no emotional attachment and induced no pleasure. Now why would you kill a person who means nothing to you and then mutilate the body, unless that was the point' he looked at john, expecting comprehension, seeing a blank look he sighed slightly in mock disappointment and finished 'Ethan Jones was only killed to lure me away from the flat.'

As Sherlock finished, a deathly pallor crept over John's face as his brain caught up, and he found himself willing the car to move faster. They sped towards the flat. Sherlock just sat there, irritatingly calm as ever, john becoming more and more flustered as time went by.

Finally, just as john thought he could bear it no longer, the taxi pulled up outside the flat. Sherlock of course jumped straight out and up to the door, leaving john to pay the taxi driver, which he did in what was probably a Guinness world record, before running in himself and leaping up the stairs three at a time, only to crash into Sherlock halfway up who was trying to run down them.

Sherlock got up, leapt over john with a complete disregard for the fact he was going to break his neck doing so, and rushed into Mrs. Hudson's flat. Realising why Sherlock would want to go in there, john hurtled down the steps after him, and was stopped dead at the entrance to Mrs. Hudson's flat by the sight of Sherlock kneeling down in front of an hourglass on the coffee table, with a card laid on top.

Sherlock crouched down and began studying the offending objects, taking in every detail. The hourglass was placed down 48 minutes ago, there are no fingerprints on either the hourglass or the card, the card was pure black with a red number 13 on one side, but no other marking. Printed by a business card manufacturer judging by the thickness and the quality. The hourglass was a simple design with a mahogany base and top, and four struts at the corners. The hourglass itself was an almost perfect figure of eight design. The wood was unmarked, but polished, and the card was resting on the very centre of the top of the structure, with the red 13 seemingly glaring up at them. He remarked out loud to john "it was the same person who killed the man that organised this, look at the simple design of the hourglass, and the absolutely central position of the card, definitely a very structured mind, simple but structured" john sighed at this and rolled his eyes, only Sherlock would make derogatory comments to a killer who wasn't even here.

Having made his deductions he rose and looked more closely around the rest of the room, eyes intently focused for any detail out of place. John was well used to this process and just let him get on with it, still trying to come to terms with the fact that Mrs. Hudson was gone.

Just as john could tell that Sherlock was nearing the end of his investigative process, they heard a key turn in the front door, john leapt towards the door, praying for Mrs. Hudson to breeze in and tell them off for something as usual. The door swung open to reveal a girl of about 18 with short loose brown hair, jeans tucked into below knee high brown boots, a plain black t-shirt, and a red coat hanging open. She had an iPod in her ears and was singing a Spanish pop song by the sound of it. She took a step in, and stopped, noticing john in front of her. She smiled at him and said cheerfully

'hi john, I'm back for the holidays, come to see auntie have you. Wow you look great, have you got a new girlfriend' john made no response, just stared at her mimicking a fish, and the smile dropped from her face. 'John what's wrong.' Then Sherlock stepped out of the doorway, her eyes slid to his face, and she gaped. John finally found his voice, 'Ella meet Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock this is Ella Johnson, Mrs. Hudson's niece'.