I'm obsessed with Sherlock at the moment and i just had to write something, the evil plot bunnies just wouldn't leave me alone!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The wet dull buildings of London sped by as Sherlock urged the taxi driver to go ever faster along the soaked streets. It was raining again, the kind of rain that falls in sheets and makes you want to curl up by the fire in a nice warm blanket feeling contented in the knowledge that you do not have to endure the weather outside. Instead, John Watson had been dragged out by his highly excitable flatmate who simply would not go to the latest crime scene without his faithful blogger despite the fact that it was already the early hours of the morning and the aforementioned blogger had the early shift later on at the clinic.

The genius detective had been deprived of cases for a while and Sherlock's enthusiasm at a break from his oppressive boredom was almost unbearable. This was though actually an improvement, as the almost unbearable excitement was definitely an improvement on the definitely unbearable ways by which Sherlock had attempted to keep himself entertained. John had seriously considered asking Sarah if he could sleep at hers to avoid the many suspicious marks and unidentifiable fluids that had damaged and stained the flat over the last few days.

Of course for John, Lestrade's call could not have come at a worse time, he had already fallen asleep at work once and being deprived of sleep at 2:30am would do nothing for his job performance. The detective seemed blissfully unaware of this fact however and had made sure that he got out of bed anyway. Sometimes being the flatmate of Sherlock Holmes could be very trying.

It did not take too long for them to reach the crime scene that had caused all of John's tired frustration and Sherlock's glee. Lestrade was waiting for them at a length of police cordon tape that had been stretched out across the entrance to a dark alleyway, and behind him stood both Anderson and Donovan. Well they would certainly complete the miserable mood that the incessant pouring rain had caused.

Both detective and doctor were soaked within minutes of getting out of the cab and from what they could see so were the three police officers, despite the fact that all policemen present wore large fluorescent coats that lit up in the dark every time one got anywhere near a lamp post.

It was so dark and wet that Sally did not even bother with her customary welcome insult and instead settled for a silent glare in Sherlock's direction as Lestrade began his explanation. Anderson appeared as if he were about to shoot some venomous comment their way however right at that moment a passing car that was going far too fast caused a puddle to splash up and all over any part of him that was not already soaked through. He forewent anything he was about to say in favour of a few choice oaths.

"Two victims, one dead and another one badly injured. This is the third set of killings in the last fortnight, it wouldn't be so odd but all victims have been killed with the same MO. We could have another serial killer on our hands."

Sherlock was already looking rather bored, rain running down his face and making his dark hair look black. "So why do you need me if you have a live witness?"

"The man is unfortunately too badly injured to question at the moment, the paramedics are still working on him and I've been informed that it's unlikely that he will survive the night. Even if he does, looking at the current rate there will be more murders before he is able to talk and we'd rather like to avoid that."

Sherlock did not offer a reply as they had reached a prone body lying on the ground. It was a man who looked to be in his early forties with black hair greying at the edges. He lay in a pool of blood and water that was quickly running to the wall at the end of the alleyway and forming a large puddle tinted with red in the torch light.

Without speaking, Holmes gestured for the Doctor to assess the body; John assumed that he wanted a cause of death. It did not take long for him to find one, a thin but wide blade inserted once through the back and into the heart and also once through both lungs. Lestrade told them that the other man had been attacked in the same way but had fought and managed to prevent fatal damage.

Once this had been ascertained, Sherlock bent to see what he could possibly find that the gathering water had not already obliterated.

"Rich, married to at least two people one of which he cares nothing for but the other he loves, big in the criminal world." He began typing fast on his phone as he continued to study the man, "Ah, no not criminal, government, undercover then. Thomas Marshall, 34, reported missing about twelve hours ago."

"Care to explain, psychopath?" Donovan finally spoke acidly.

Sherlock was about to reply when a cool familiar voice sounded as Mycroft Holmes walked towards them down the alleyway.

"Its sociopath, actually, as I'm sure Sherlock has corrected many times. You might do well to listen to him for once. The man's clothes and well manicured nails show his wealth, it is obvious that he is married to two people because the wedding ring he is wearing is dirty and not well cared for, regularly in a pocket with keys and coins by the looks of it so he does not love this woman. The ring he wears on the chain around his neck, however is clean. It is also worn frequently as, while the outside has picked up a little dust since the last time he cleaned it the inside is spotless so is regularly put on. This wife he loves. If he only loves one woman then, why is he married to the other, it is obviously as some kind of cover and the most likely reason for this is governmental work."

"I take it the man is one of your lackeys then, as you can't possibly see the body that well from over there." Sherlock's voice was cold and slightly petulant, he did not like bring robbed of the chance to show his skill.

"Yes, his dear wife will be heartbroken," he winced, "unfortunately Layla will never forgive me if I send someone else round with the news. Anyway, it's the other man I've come about, you are to leave him out of your investigation, forget that he ever existed."

Lestrade looked at him as if he were mad, "He's the only live victim we have; he might have vital information!"

"Don't worry I'm sure the three of you will be able to work around him, or can you not do it without him Sherlock?"

John was surprised that Mycroft was being so obvious in his attempt to manipulate his brother, but it soon occurred to him that he didn't need to be subtle. Sherlock would probably see through any attempt at subterfuge, but this was an open challenge, a question of his intellect and Sherlock's pride could only let him respond in one way;

"Easy."

Then he promptly turned his back and marched off into the night, leaving Mycroft with a small smirk on his face.

When they finally got back into the flat, Sherlock turned to him, "You'll probably want to go back to bed, I know how you seem to require a ridiculous amount of sleep each night and we have somewhere to be in a few hours."

"We do?"

"Of course we do, we need to get to Bart's to speak to that other man."

"But I thought you told Mycroft that-"

"If Mycroft thinks that he has succeeded in baiting me then he is much less likely to place a large guard on the victim therefore making it easier for us to question him, do you see?"

"So you were only acting?"

"Of course I was; I'm not so stupid as to fall into Mycroft's traps, how simple the world must seem to you, you shouldn't take everything at face value."

John simply shook his head and went to bed. He could tell that it would be a long day tomorrow if Sherlock was going to insist on pitting himself against his brother, perhaps he had better call Sarah and see if he could cancel all his appointments for the day.

Please Please Please review!