"Sorry, what was that?" John frowned at Sherlock, the latter already pulling on his jacket and gloves. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Lestrade just texted me John, a body was found in an alley way just moments ago. When the police got there however, the body was gone. No traces left except for some blood spatters that the killer didn't have time to clean up."

"Sherlock, it's almost midnight!" John protested.

"So?" Sherlock still didn't quite get that John needed at least a few hours of sleep each week to keep functioning. The past week had already been filled up with a serial killer, which meant John had gotten about three hours of sleep total. He had been counting on getting at least some sleep tonight as well as…well…

John cleared his throat and looked away from Sherlock, covering up any signs of embarrassment he might be showing towards his flat mate. The sexual tension he felt toward Sherlock had most definitely reached a breaking point and John had been hoping he could get in a nice quiet wank before the next day. Dammit if he hadn't tried to feel differently towards Sherlock, after all with the warning Sherlock had given John on the night at Angelo's, John really had no hope that his flat mate would show any romantic interest in him what-so-ever. Really, that was why John had dated Sarah, and that had obviously worked out so well.

Dates don't really take it well when they've almost been speared to death.

"John." John looked up at Sherlock's slight prodding of his name. Obviously Sherlock was expecting John to leap into action, running upstairs to change out of his pajamas and into something more suitable for running around London alleyways at night.

"Really Sherlock, can't it wait until morning?"

"By then the evidence won't be fresh and Anderson will have done something stupid to mess everything up."

Sherlock was obviously beginning to pout. How a grown man could pout and look so damn sexy when he did it, John would probably never know.

"Right then," John sighed, "let me get changed."

Sherlock beamed, while also managing to look a bit smug. "You have two minutes John."

In Sherlock time, that probably meant John really had about thirty seconds to get changed.

~SHERLOCK~

Damn Sherlock. Damn the idiot killer. Damn the person stupid enough to go walking in alleyways at night in London. Damn the police for texting Sherlock. Damn the fact that night in London was freezing, especially around this time of year.

John jumped the chain link fence, barely managing not to fall over it and plant his face into the cement. Sherlock was already moving faster ahead, another damn for his long legs.

Of course Sherlock had figured out just by the bloodstains that the killer had been a mugging gone wrong. And by that Sherlock had easily tapped into his memory information bank in which lead him to remember the muggers around this area of London that had yet to be caught, and which ones were violent enough to commit murder. Narrowing it down, Sherlock had immediately run off, and John, now used to his flat mate's sudden gear switches, had been the only one who had managed to keep up with him.

All of that had now lead them on a chase with the mugger, unfortunately with Sherlock and John being the ones chased. It figured that the man had recently joined a gang (Sherlock had taken a few moments in hiding to argue with John that he hadn't had time this week to update his data on this neighborhood) and was no longer alone, meaning Sherlock and John were being chased by said gang.

"Sherlock! Sherlock, wait up!" John panted. Sherlock stopped suddenly and John ran straight into him.

"Shit, Sherlock I said wait up, not stop completely!" John stumbled backward. Sherlock suddenly looked toward his left side, and with a fluid movement he pulled John into an abandoned alleyway.

"Sherlock what the hell are you doing?" John asked furiously. Sherlock pressed two fingers against John's mouth to shush him and John felt himself go slightly red. He suddenly noticed the lack of space between them and the fact that Sherlock was pretty much pressing John up against the stone wall.

"Sherlock…" John mumbled, but was silenced once again by a sudden look from Sherlock.

"John just go with me for a few minutes." Sherlock said, and before John could ask him what he meant, Sherlock leaned down and kissed John right on the lips.

Heat bloomed from the point of contact and John no longer felt the chill of the London air. For a few moments he was paralyzed, but before any more moments could pass John felt Sherlock's mouth moving against his in a very verypleasurable way. Without anymore hesitation, John allowed himself to push back against Sherlock's lips, putting every single feeling from all those damn dreams he had about Sherlock into that kiss.

"John." Sherlock broke away and then angled his face so that he could deepen the kiss. "John."

John gave a small breathy moan, which seemed to encourage Sherlock to move themselves closer than they already were.

"John can you make that pretty noise for me again?" Sherlock said hoarsely, stroking his hand on John's cheek. He kissed John again, and nipped his bottom lip. John let out a slightly louder moan, but this time with Sherlock's name practically sewn into it. Sherlock let out a sound that almost sounded like a mix between a purr and a growl before he began almost attacking John's mouth, constantly moving their lips together so that they could increase the pleasure.

John was so caught up in Sherlock, yesyesyes right there, that he didn't hear the incoming footsteps. The footsteps stopped for a moment before the entrance to their alleyway, but after the moment had passed they continued on, some slight digested noises left in their wake.

John and Sherlock broke apart, both men breathing heavily. Sherlock seemed to gain his composure first, as he quickly moved away from John and toward the entrance to the alleyway. He peeked out, looking both ways before signaling John.

"Good job John, they simply thought we were two lovers making out. Come on, back to Lestrade to tell him where he can find the murderer." Sherlock moved out of the alleyway, not bothering to look behind him, and in so not seeing the shocked and slightly destroyed look on John's face.

John did not fall to the ground like some tragic hero. He didn't cry or let out any noise of displeasure. John simply brushed himself off and moved after Sherlock. It was almost as if the secret of what had happened was left in the alleyway. However, the key word is almost. For as John went after Sherlock, the cold air of London had once again returned, somehow colder than John had ever remember it being.

~SHERLOCK~

A/N: So should I do another chapter and give it a happy ending? ;D

Please review and tell me if you want something to happen next, and what it should be!