I don't own Sherlock. John's POV.
Big thanks to my beta, Bethanyyerinn. If you see any mistakes it's completely my fault for not listening to her suggestions.
The place looked awful. It was already quite late when Lestrade called Sherlock. The murder took place the night before and apparently the police tried to investigate it all day. Well, at least Greg knew when to give up.
We arrived in a flat on the sixth floor. There on the ground laid thirteen bodies, all belonging to youngsters raging from sixteen to nineteen. Five of them were girls. The window was broken and in the bushes underneath it, Donovan found the body of a young boy. She was proud of her find, so she was in a good mood and only said one or two bad things about Sherlock, but that didn't mean Anderson was quite as nice.
"Why did you bring that psychopath here, Lestrade?"
"Anderson, I am not going to explain the same thing to you twice, because you wouldn't understand even if I did," Sherlock said in his usual quick way. "There are seven more idiots here and I assure you none of them are even close to your level of stupidity."
I would have chuckled at Anderson's stunned face, but I made a quick calculation. Excluding Anderson there were only six other police officers, which meant I was included in his blanket statement. I was used to him being rude like this, but I still didn't like being shown in a bad light.
"What do you think, John?" he asked me in a gentler voice.
"What can a doctor say? They're dead!" Anderson barked. He rarely picked on me, so Sherlock was a bit surprised and definitely angry.
"It's not John's fault that Sergeant Donovan denied you sex last night. She's on her period, which you should be able to notice because of her slightly rounder belly and uncomfortable steps. Stop blaming others for your idiocy!"
Thank god Donovan was not in the room. Anderson was red up to his ears.
"Sherlock, do you know where the murderer is?" asked Lestrade methodically, ignoring the spat he'd just witnessed.
"Of course I know. Were the doors locked?"
"Yes, the flat owners came home early and found this mess. They said the door was locked when they arrived, and as soon as they saw, they called us. Their son is one of the victims." he added solemnly.
"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock snapped. At the silence that followed, he sighted exasperatedly. "The murderer is here."
All kids were killed by a big kitchen knife that was laying on the carpet. I wasn't sure how that was obvious at first, but then I noticed something about the two closest corpses.
"Sherlock, something's not right. This girl wasn't running away, so she must have been surprised. But the other did run, we can deduce that from the way she is laying close to the door with her hand reaching for the handle."
"Indeed, John, the first one did not manage to even run away before her surprise passed."
"Surprise from what exactly?"
He didn't answer me.
"I need to check something outside. Feel free to deduce something on your own, John; it's a disappointingly easy case."
He left. I had nothing to do, so I figured I might as well do as he suggested.
It was quite obvious that this was a party. There were bottles with alcohol and crisps on the table. The girl that wasn't running away was the first killed. I could probably deduce the exact sequence of their deaths, but it proved unnecessary when I noticed that one boy was killed differently. He had slashed wrists. A slow death. From his position, he could have thrown the knife to where it was laying now. I looked at the photos on the wall. He was the son of the flat's owners. That meant he had the key and could trap his pray here. Apparently he thought about that after killing the second person. He probably wasn't in his right mind while killing those people, and regretted what he did, so that's why he committed suicide. Neighbors didn't hear the shouts of the teenagers because of the music. After his second murder, he probably switched of the light. He knew the flat better then the others, so he would have the advantage.
"Found out something?" Sherlock said suddenly, startling me.
"Yes, he—"
"I know already," Sherlock interrupted.
I rolled my eyes, but just said, "But why did he do it?"
"John, could you come with me for a moment?"
I followed in his footsteps to the broken window. He was looking at the ground and stopped when he noticed crumbled crisps. He instructed me to stand there and then called Lestrade to stand by the window. He whispered something into Greg's ear. I had no idea what he was plotting, but he was making me a little nervous.
Suddenly he leaned over me and connected our lips. My first thought was 'you're kidding right?'. Come on, there were officers in the room! But as his lips put more pressure on mine, Scotland Yard became unimportant, because in some weird, twisted way, it felt perfect. So naturally, I kissed back, but he ended it after a long moment. Sherlock, for once, actually looked surprised.
"John... although that was quite amazing and I will have to investigate it further later, that wasn't how you were supposed to react."
"What?" I asked a little dizzy. He was still very close.
"You were supposed to push me off."
He made his way to the center of the room while I desperately tried not to blush. I didn't succeed. Especially when Lestrade muttered, "Shit, I owe Donovan twenty pounds."
"This boy is the killer," Sherlock said, ignoring Lestrade's comment. "His friend is now laying in the bushes because that boy kissed him and the host pushed him off. It was pure coincidence that the window was there and the other boy fell out of it."
"Did you deduce that he's gay from his hair products?" I asked, trying to sound normal.
"No, from their photo in his wallet." He said with that smart-ass smile. "From the photos on the wall and also the whole flat, we can deduce that his parents are vary traditional people. They would not accept that their son is gay, even less so if he went to prison for pushing the boy out of the window and killing him. At least he must have though that. In panic, he killed everyone in the room and then, himself. Ah, so dull. Come John, I'd like some Chinese food."
I followed quietly.
It was not the best scenery for our first kiss, but hopefully the following ones would be more private. From Sherlock's uncanny spring in his step and the shining happiness in his eyes, I figured there would be a lot of them.
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