A/N: Here's a brand new story for the New Year! Leave me a review to let me know what you think so far! =]


"Sherlock? Are you alright?" John asked, worry in his tone as he watched his flatmate curiously.

Sherlock had been examining a crime scene, a murdered woman sprawled out on the floor with blood everywhere, when he'd just stopped.

"Yes. Fine." Sherlock replied as he got to his feet, "Do excuse me, John, Lestrade. There's somewhere I need to be."

"What? Where are you going?" Lestrade demanded as Sherlock ducked under the police tape.

"Sherlock?" John called, following his flatmate down the stairs of the house and out into the street.

"I'll be back later. Don't wait up." Sherlock replied over his shoulder as he climbed into a cab.

John sighed as he watched the cab drive away down the street.


"Enjoying your new case?" Mycroft asked as he read The Times in the Diogenes Club. He knew Sherlock was in the doorway, so there was no need to look up.

"Enjoying your last day of freedom?" Sherlock asked sarcastically, moving silently across the room.

"What on earth do you mean?" Mycroft asked, putting his paper aside.

"The case. The woman that was murdered. It has your fingerprints all over it." Sherlock hissed, sitting down opposite his brother.

"Sherlock, you are quite mistaken-" Mycroft began.

"Don't lie to me!" Sherlock shouted, slamming down a silver tie-pin onto the table beside them, "Who was she? Did she deserve to be gutted like a fish?"

Mycroft sighed and picked up the tie-pin before he placed it in his suit jacket's pocket, "I don't know. I picked her at random." he replied.

"Why?" Sherlock asked with a frown.

"You were bored. I had to act before you fell back into your old ways." Mycroft replied.

"So your solution was to kill a woman with your own bare hands? You didn't even send someone else to do it?" Sherlock asked.

"Her Majesty's resources can't be used for personal crimes." Mycroft said with a slight chuckle.

"Do you think that this is amusing? I now have a case where you are the murderer, so what information can I possibly give to the police?" Sherlock demanded.

"It is rather amusing. I had hoped that it would take you longer to find out that it was me. It's alright though, I have a long list of men that you can tie this to." Mycroft replied, pulling out a notebook from his pocket.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Sherlock hissed, "You've murdered a woman and now you're asking me not only to lie about it, but to pin it to someone else?"

"I don't think that's unreasonable. I've tidied up your messes in the past." Mycroft replied, his tone beginning to cool.

"I didn't murder someone!" Sherlock shouted, getting to his feet, "I'm going home and then we are going to sort this out tomorrow."

"Very well. Give my regards to John." Mycroft replied, picking up his paper again.

"You promised me that you would stop. After you joined the Secret Service, you promised me that you wouldn't need to kill again." Sherlock sighed, speaking softly as he walked to the door.

"Things have changed, brother dear." Mycroft responded calmly, continuing to read the article he'd put to one side during Sherlock's visit.


"Something's wrong. I'm not stupid." John said with a frown, watching as Sherlock stared at the yellow smiley face on the wall. His flatmate had been silent since his return from wherever he'd been.

Sherlock sighed and turned to face John, "What I tell you can't leave this room. It is corruption of the highest level." he said.

"Tell me what's going on. It's not like we don't normally know about secret government business." John replied, watching him.

"It's Mycroft. He's the killer." Sherlock said softly, watching John closely to see what his reaction would be.

"Mycroft? Mycroft killed that woman?" John repeated.

"Yes, John. I went to see him after I found one of his tie-pins under the body." Sherlock explained.

"One of his tie-pins? Surely lots of people have tie-pins similar to the ones that Mycroft wears?" John asked.

"No. His tie-pins are specially made for him, as are all his pieces of clothing." Sherlock replied, "I went to see him and he admitted it, John."

"He confessed to the murder?" John gasped.

"Yes, and that's not even the worst part." Sherlock muttered, "His motive was that I was bored. He killed that woman so I'd have something to do."

John looked completely shocked, "So what do we do?" he asked.

"I don't know, John." Sherlock sighed, "I don't know."