Don't own Sherlock. And the man with the gun is John Watson. ;)
"You're life is mine," Sherlock growled as his hand curled possessively in the hit man's hair. "I control whether you live or die, so tell me what I want to know," Sherlock was snarling and pulling the man's hard enough for blood to start flowing.
The hit man whimpered but still managed to gasp out, "I am a human, and you cannot control my life."
Sherlock's hand tightened reflexively and the hit man cried out. "Says you."
"Ah, of course," the hit man gasped, "you don't care about normal human things or their feelings."
"That'd be right~," Sherlock laughed and the hit man flinched. Sherlock then turned dramatically leaving the hit man's body with a hole where its heart should be. Sherlock then turned his eyes to the sky, "Looks like it shall rain and I'll lose the trail. Lady Luck must favor you, sweetie."
A chuckle reverberated through the shadows, "I've been told I'm her favorite man." Sherlock did not turn around to face the man knowing he would only catch a glimpse of the fair haired man before he would disappear into the shadows. His mind reminded him that if he only caught a glimpse the want to catch the man would only grow. Sherlock was already past the point of obsession with the man anymore and he would be unable to turn him in when he finally caught him.
Sherlock nonchalantly hummed as though behind him was not a man he had been hunting for a month and wanted to control complete. "You may be her favorite man but put yourself on the line too much and she'll let you go." The man laughed and Sherlock shivered though not from cold or fear. A warm breath ghosted over his ear and a cold muzzle of a gun was placed against the base of his skull. Sherlock felt his adrenaline spike, never had this man gotten so close before.
"I could kill you right now and I'd have no threats to my business." The man whispered promisingly right into Sherlock's ear.
"Ah, but you'd hate that." Sherlock replied not mindful of the loading gun poised to kill him. "You love that I challenge you and make you think on your feet. You don't want the easy life, you want a puzzle something to work at. An easy life is too boring to you; which are also why've you have set up rules or morals to play by."
"What makes you think you know me, detective?" The man asked as he undid the safety on the gun.
Sherlock smiled, "The fact that only now have you removed the safety on the gun and that today is the first day we've official met. You've teased me before and taunted the police; you get off on being chased. You don't really have a reason to live besides you drunkard of a sister who isn't the most supportive, you don't need the money or street reputation but still you do it."
The man chuckled and disappeared, the cold pressure of the gun with him. Sherlock allowed himself a little grin of victory. Tonight had been most informative as he now knew the man was military, whether Afghanistan or Iraq was yet to be seen, left hand dominate*, and a doctor. "I hope we meet again, sweetie." Sherlock murmered into the wind.
*Go watch the unaired pilot if you don't believe me, John Watson writes with his left hand in that episode.