The Chase

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

Author's Note: This is my first Sherlock fic, tell me how I do :) I'm still fairly new to fanfiction, so I'm really grateful for any kind of comment or review!

Love, Ruby xx

DISCLAIMER: I'm extremely disheartened at the fact that I do not own the master of deduction himself, or anything associated with him :(

Running, that's what he was doing. Trying to put as much distance between himself and the murderous madman chasing him, he really should've told Sherlock about this. Now he was running alone through the streets of London, not knowing where he was. His breathing was uneven and frantic, all because he wanted to prove to Moriarty that he wasn't Sherlock's pet. The dark night made every side street seem eternal and the main streets only illuminated by the solemn street lamps. The chaser was gaining ground, hunting him down like an advanced predator. John could here his heart thundering erratically through his chest; he'd taken a wrong turn to a dead end and there was no going back now...

Three days before...

There hadn't been a case in weeks leaving Sherlock's brain to rot, leading the detective into an irritable depression. He sat in the chair, gun in his left hand, fresh bullets in his right, just emptying the gun repeatedly into the unsuspecting living room wall. John was powerless to stop him, and he knew it; well, he could go out and commit murder, but that's a step too far. So he appologised repeatedly to both Mrs Hudson and the wall for Sherlock's less than sociable behaviour.

He was bored too though, so he couldn't really blame Sherlock who was naturally self destructive and anti-social anyway; he wouldn't go as far as saying he was a sociopath though, he had a feeling Moriarty was right.

"I'm going to burn you. I'm going to burn the heart right out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."

"Now we both know that's not quite true."

That little snippet of that night stuck in John's head. He knew Sherlock was difficult to get along with and took a very scientific view upon society, seeing it as only norms and social conventions which could be obeyed or ignored at will. But he wasn't the complete heartless bastard everybody claimed he was. There was a warmer side to Sherlock, one that laughed, smiled and cared. John feared that maybe he was the only one that ever saw that side of him.

"Alright Sherlock. That's enough shooting for now, forever in fact. If you keep going we're not going to have any bloody wall left!" John stated as he got up to confiscate the gun from Sherlock.

"I know what you we're thinking, John." he said calmly as the gun was removed from his possession. "I'm afraid to say yes, you are the only person who gets to see me with my guard down a little, and I don't intend to let it drop much farther." John's face fell at the latter part of his statement. "As for the rest of what you were thinking, you're the only person who's actually put up with me long enough to form any kind of bond with you." John wasn't exactly surprised at this though.

Sherlock's phone lit up for the first time in days then. He slowly leant over to the table to take a glance, normally it was just Molly asking where he was and giving him updates on when new bodies had arrived.

Got a weird one. 23 Milestone Lane. Looks right up your street freak. GL

It was always amusing when Sergent Donovan used DI Lastrade's phone to begrudgingly ask for 'freak's' help.

Sherlock lept to his feet with a slight smile on his lips and walked briskly to get his coat whilst saying, "That was Donovan, apparently it's 'right up my street'. You coming?" John didn't really need asking, he was already following Sherlock out of the door.

" 23 Milestone Lane." he told the driver as he navigated the busy London streets. "What?" John spluttered. "It's the address of the scene, John. Is something wrong?" the detective said as he studied his friend's face trying to determine the cause of sadness. "23 Milestone Lane is Sarah lives, Sherlock." his face went even whiter as he said those words. "I'm sure it's not what you think, John. Anyway, the victim probably has nothing in connection with the location they found the body, Donovan said they we're 'dumbfounded', indicating that it really is an interesting one." Sherlock said, frantically trying to soothe his comrade. "Would it still be just as interesting if it WAS Sarah's body there Sherlock?" John added with a hint of venom in his voice. "No, John, it would be horrifying." he paused, trying to gather anything that might help. "it would be horrifying, John, because you'd be very upset, just like you are now. Rather prematurely though, we haven't even reached the destination yet." John shot Sherlock a warning glare that was quickly recieved by the detective. The rest of the journey was spent in silence.

When they arrived at the crime scene, John was a wreck. He followed Sherlock into the room with the body and debated whether or not to even look. It seemed, however, that the body was not that of Sarah, but of another familiar face that John couldn't quite put a name to. "Oi, freak! Nice of you to turn up." said Donovan with a snarl, "We don't know who he is yet, and Lastrade's gone -"

"Home, yes, I know. His wife's got the flu and his son's coming down with it too. Thank you Sally. As for the ID, I can help with that. His name's Sebastian, we went to university together. He hired John and I a couple of months back to work a case involving smuggling and graffiti. Do you remember John?" he said as he turned to his collegue who had just about got it clear in his head that it wasn't actually Sarah lying on the floor surrounded by blood in a small dark room. That left one question, where was she?