AN: Here's my second fanfiction ever! Hope you like it. Please leave a review, if you've liked this first chapter and tell me how you think it'll continue. :)
And, if you have some requests for other fanfictions, contact me and just ask :) I'm open for nearly everything, if I know what it is.
~ TheNameIsAllieHolmes
Chapter 1: A call from Myc'
'Sherlock, you have to come back. You're needed.' Mycroft's voice was uncaring as always. Sherlock sighed.
'What is it now, Myc?' He knew exactly how much Mycroft hated his nickname. He could nearly hear his brother's frown through the mobile phone.
'A mysterious serial killer. Even the government can't identify him, as much I hate to admit that. You must come back.' Sherlock chuckled unamused.
'What is with John? Will he be able to assist me?', he asked. There was a short silence at the other end, but then Mycroft answered:
'We'll talk about that, when you're here. I'll send a Jet.' And with that, he ended the call. Sherlock snorted. How clever of Mycroft. He knew, now Sherlock would be curious what the matter with John was. Maybe even worried, if he would let himself have an emotion. But that was ridiculous, of course.
Some hours later he sat in his brother's office. He had washed and shaved, had a new haircut - after his hair had grown down to his shoulders during his haunt – and wore now his old coat and blue scarf again. He positioned his hands under his chin and observed Mycroft.
'You're worried', he stated. The man vis-à-vis just nodded. "You're worried because of John or because of how I will react to what happened to John. Something bad, I assume.' It irritated Sherlock a bit. His brother was rarely worried about other human beings.
'He disappeared', Mycroft declared. Sherlock frowned. If his brother was normal he would say he were joking, but Mycroft wasn't mundane. He didn't like jokes, so as Sherlock. But why would he say something like that? He was the British government, he was the MI6 and clearly nobody could just disappear of him, particularly nobody like John. But there was no other possibility that would cause such a statement from him.
'For how long has he been absent?', he asked, accepting the statement as what Mycroft thought was the truth.
'For three weeks and five days.' Sherlock suddenly got angry.
'And you're informing me NOW about this? Isn't it a bit early for such an insignificant information?', he snorted sarcastically. Mycroft frowned.
'I didn't think it would be important. But then there was that thing with the serial killer…'
Sherlock scowled. 'What thing?' Sighing, Mycroft grabbed a file which laid on his desk. He wordlessly gave it to Sherlock. Latter impatiently grabbed it and unfolded it. It contained photos of crime scenes. At each was a murder victim of different age, nationality and profession. All were killed differently – stabbed, strangled, poisoned, shot, and so on. But the most extraordinary thing was, that each of them wore a deerstalker. The same hat, which Sherlock now was famous for.
'The murderer wants me to investigate the crime. He knows I'm alive', Sherlock said.
'That's was I thought.' Mycroft watched him a bit worried.
'And John disappeared?', Sherlock asked. His brother nodded.
'One week before the first murder. But we found something in his flat.' He opened a drawer and gave Sherlock a little sheet. It was normal white, like you find it in every printer and there was only one sentence on it, hastily scribbled with a ball pen. Find me Sherlock, please.