HELLO! This is the prologue so let me know if you like it and I'll put up chapter 1! Cheers guys! :D Oh and...

Disclaimer: Sherlock doesn't belong to me, though the whole cast including the writers are welcome anytime to drop by for some tea :)


The sirens sounded along the empty street, flashes of red and blue passing over houses with dreary-eyed watchers peering from the windows. The two police cars travelled at an alarming speed, careful only to manoeuvre between the few wandering pedestrians roaming the street. No one else needed to die today.

Arriving at the building already marked with yellow tape and stationary cars, the newly arriving police cars skidded to halt. The Detective Inspector stepped from the vehicle, hardly able to stifle a yawn. He led the few policemen into the building, Sgt. Donovan swiftly moving to walk beside him.

"This better be important, Sally. Couldn't even catch a wink in the car, Michaels drove so fast-" he said, allowing the yawn to pass his lips this time. Donovan stiffly turned to face him.

"It is sir. Believe me. It's a massacre in there. I don't know how that much blood could have come from one body..." she said, relatively unemotional aside from the slight tremble in her lips. The Detective Inspector nodded curtly and walked swiftly into the room already crowded by blue-suited figures. He stopped short, a hand moving directly to his mouth and nose before turning and hastily exiting the room. He collapsed against the wall adjacent to the door.

"I warned you." said Sally as she leaned against the wall with her arms folded across her chest.

"Bloody Hell..." he said, his breathing coming out in harsh gasps. Sally paused before hesitantly asking the question she had been trying to avoid all night.

"Are you gonna bring him in?" she asked with great reluctance. The Detective Inspector merely looked at her. The look only confirmed her suspicions.

Here comes the freak.


Sherlock entered the building with a graceful walk, gliding past the officers and forensic scientists. To those who passed they noticed he appeared to have a slight spring in his step but that wasn't unusual. Not for him.

Sherlock walked straight to the room with the now covered body across the floor, turning on his heels to face the empty doorway. Said doorway was then filled with the inclined figure of Anderson leaning against the doorway.

"So, it's you." He said with a grimace. Sherlock stared past him.

"Here for another exciting murder are you?" he quipped, receiving not even an acknowledgement.

"What, have you got nothing to say for once?" Anderson peeled himself from the doorway and took a step towards the passive man who continued to stare over Anderson's shoulder.

"What-"

"It's called 'being ignored' Anderson. I'm surprised you've never had the pleasure of the treatment before." He finally spoke just as the Detective Inspector marched into the room.

"Ah, Lestrade. I was beginning to wonder when you would make an appearance." said Sherlock smartly.

"Make this quick Sherlock. You know I'm not supposed to let you in here. Let alone twice." Lestrade said tiredly, placing his hands on his hips and gesturing around the room with his hands. Sherlock bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, the edges of his mouth turning up slightly.

"And you know I am grateful for that Lestrade, but I just needed to bring something with me this time."

"You can't bring anything in here, freak. We already searched you anyway." Sally said, appearing in the doorway.

"Which I still think is unnecessary." Sherlock said tersely. Sally scoffed.

"Doesn't matter what you think. God only knows what you would bring in here if you could."

"What did you bring with you, Sherlock?" Lestrade said, already exhausted and slightly worried from the turn of the conversation. Sherlock smiled.

"Joo-oohn!" he yelled to the doorway, the three other pairs of eyes in the room following his gaze.

A few seconds later a figure sauntered into the room shuffling his feet. He yawned stiffly and scratched his short mousy hair.

"What is it, Sherlock? You know I don't like to be woken up in the middle of a nap." John blinked his heavy eyes at the man still standing in the centre of the room. Sherlock's smile widened.

"I do apologise, John, but I needed your assistance." He said. John only sighed in response.

"What with?" he said, almost afraid of the answer. Sherlock's smile faded from his pale face as he turned and walked to a spot next to the victim. He then kneeled and faced away from the body, scratching at a crack in the wooden floor.

"Come here." He said without looking up. John glanced over to Lestrade who looked just as confused as he did before lazily walking to stand beside Sherlock.

"What?" he yawned. Sherlock looked up and reached a hand into one of the doctor's jeans pockets. The doctor gave a start and tried to remove Sherlock's hand, but he had already found what he was looking for. He held a small needle in his hand, using it to get better access into the crack in the floor.

"What the hell? Did-did you put that in there when I was sleeping?" John stammered. Sherlock smirked.

"Of course not. I would never risk you waking up. No, I planted this beforehand." He said, focusing the needle on a particular place in the crack. John rubbed his forehead with one hand and placed the other on his hip.

"Beforehand? But when would you...oh. Is that why you interrupted my tea making to point out the window and shout 'Look! It's Santa Claus!' and it's the middle of August...I did wonder about that." John said, shrugging. Sherlock was too focused on the crack in the floor to hear what John was saying, but the other three members of the room were trying to keep their reactions under control. Lestrade just turned his head, not needing to see more evidence of their dysfunctional relationship. Sally refused to pay any attention to them at all, turning her head to the side as if completely oblivious while Anderson simply scoffed and left the room.

"So..." John broke the silence, unaware of the stillness in the room, "Why exactly did you come back here again? I mean, weren't you invited here yesterday?"

"Yes I was. And I came and I saw. And then I left." Sherlock had almost managed to manoeuvre what he was digging for out of the small opening.

"So why did you come back? Couldn't figure it out the first time?" John smiled slightly at the thought. Sherlock looked up at John.

"Please." Was all he said, returning to his excavation.

"So? Why did you?" John said, folding his arms across his chest.

"I needed you to bring me this needle."

"Uh huh. So you could dig into a crack in the floor?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"So I could get...this." Sherlock said, finally scraping a rusted copper coin out of the crack. He picked it up and held it between two fingers, lifting it towards the light. John knelt beside Sherlock to get a better view of the coin, leaning close to the pale man. Sherlock glanced over to the doctor quickly before returning his gaze to the coin. He swiftly stood, nearly knocking John over in the process and strode across the room and out the door. Lestrade was momentarily dazed before he rushed towards the door.

"Oi, Sherlock! Where are you going? What was in the crack?" John slowly stood and sighed to himself.

Here we go again.


So...yeah. You know what to do ;)