Disclaimer, I don't own Sherlock


Sherlock was stumped, as John would like to say. He didn't have any idea on what was happening in his new case. He spent hours lying motionless on the couch in his signature position, his hands tucked under his chin. Sherlock would occasionally frown or mutter, but nothing more. God knows what's going on in his mind palace. John had no choice but to sit and watch his flatmate as he began to grow bored. Sherlock had scolded him for playing the telly as to 'distracts him' so he could only lay on his comfy chair and wait for the dark haired man to speak.

Things were a lot different in Sherlock's mind palace. Words and object whizzed past him. He could only focus on one thing- solving the case John had called "Turned Tables," which was very good choice of words.

He needed to find out as much about each victim as he could. He needed to know their friends, their relatives, their enemies. Their secrets.

The case first began when a young woman, in her twenties, suddenly murdered her husband of 6 years and her 3 children by strangling them. However, she had no memory of it. The woman, named Faith Gallello, was found unconscious next to her dead family and was bawling when the doctors had explained what happened. Gallello was sent to a mental hospital as soon as she was released from the hospital.

A week later a similar incident had occured.

A man named Kevin Yung had killed his engaged girlfriend and his close brother soon after. Death by stabbing. He was also found unconscious and unaware of what had happened. What made the case even more difficult was the fact that both were clean, no criminal records, perfectly normal, and their friends or sibling all stated how they were close to the people they had killed. So why would they murder them?

Sherlock felt his brow furrow in frustration for the third time that evening as he continued to scratch out possibilities one by one.

"This isn't RIGHT."

He didn't notice that he had talked out loud until John cleared his throat.

"Um," John coughed slightly. "I do believe you should get something to eat. Just something real quick, maybe some quick Chinese takeaway. You haven't eating anything and-"

"John, do shut up. You're only distracting me. Besides, food only slows my thinking down." Sherlock stated coldly. He hadn't even opened his eyes.

The blond haired man sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm only trying to help, Sherlock. You'll get ill if you don't eat.

"Well, stop because you're only slowing me down." He didn't mean to sound so harsh. Sherlock almost wanted to apologize, but he kept quiet.

There was no reply. Sherlock opened his eyes and turned to the doctor, who had his head facing to the ground. John sighed again and stood up, walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Had he upset him by accident? John should know he didn't mean it, he never meant anything like that.

"I'm going for a walk." John grabbed his coat and quickly put it over his blue jumper.

The door creaked open and was slammed when the short man had walked through it.

Sherlock sat up and stared at the door, thinking. He was debating whether he should go after John or not. After a couple of minutes of pondering, he decided that he'd text him later.


John scoffed as he continued straight.

"I can't believe him..." He muttered softly, shaking his head.

He kept walking the pavement but stopped when he heard a faint sound of some young boy crying in a narrow part between two buildings.

"Is... Is everything alright?" He called out.

The crying continued.

John turned and took a step into the darkness, hesitated a bit, and shuffled deeper. He could only see the outline of a trash can. Maybe the boy was behind it. John moved in closer.

"I won't hurt you- I can take you back to your parents if you are lost."

Then it stopped. It didn't grow softer, it was just cut off. It was silent aside for the cars passing by.

Before John could question anything or turn around, a strong pair of hand grabbed him from behind and he felt something metal bash against his head.

As the world was beginning to be clouded in black spots he felt something being shoved into his mouth, a small pill of some sort, and was forced to swallow. His mouth grew dry and he couldn't scream. The man, (it could've been a woman, he wasn't sure) let John fall out of his tight grip.

The doctor was unconscious before he hit the ground.