He was obviously untrained. Not an assassin or a mastermind criminal, so why could Sherlock not stop him? He should have seen it coming. He was nothing more than a thug and was no match for Sherlock's brilliant mind, but now his world has collapsed, he has been beaten. For once in his life Sherlock Holmes agrees with something his brother said, caring is a disadvantage.
5 hours earlier
"Sherlock! What have you done to the kitchen?" John looked in at the kitchen that now looked like a tsunami, earthquake and hurricane had passed through there all at the same time. There had been no case for three days and Sherlock had reached a whole new level of boredom. John tried to stay out of his way as much as possible. He looked into a pan that was still bubbling on the hob. It smelt disgusting and John had to pinch his nose as he leaned over to look into the pan. Inside was one of Sherlock's many experiments, however instead of eyeballs in the microwave or drugging Johns tea this seemed to involve boiling a brain until it had completely stuck to the bottom of the pan. John stormed out of the kitchen, to where Sherlock was lounged on the sofa, with the pan still in his hands. "Sherlock!" The younger man didn't even move. "Sherlock! What is this?" Sherlock turned around so that he faced John and raised his eyebrow slightly. "Sherlock! What have you done? I use this pan for cooking!"
"As an answer to your first question, that is clearly a brain, even you should be able to see that."
"I know what it is! I want to know why it is stuck to the bottom of one of my pans!" He was starting to lose patience now.
"It was an experiment."
John sighed and stared at Sherlock until he was sure that he saw the man squirm.
"I boiled the brain in pyrosulphuric acid." He rolled over so that his head was buried beneath the cushions, telling John that this conversation was over.
An hour later, after cleaning up the mess that Sherlock had made, John felt that he could maybe relax for just a moment. He didn't know how it was possible for one man to make so much mess, well that man is Sherlock Holmes off all people. Sitting in his chair he heard Sherlock mutter something about 'brain cells disintegrating', he couldn't help but smile. As much as Sherlock annoyed him he couldn't help but care for the man.
That thought soon disappeared when Sherlock suddenly jumped off the sofa, texting someone, most likely Lestrade, and heaved John of the chair.
"John! Get up! We have a case!"
John reluctantly moved from his quite comfy position in the chair and ran to catch up with Sherlock, who was already hailing one of the many cabs that seem to magically appear when Sherlock is around.
Fidgeting in the back of the cab, it was obvious that Sherlock was feeling the adrenaline of finally having a case.
"So what's happened"
Sherlock's eyes lit up with excitement.
"Murder"
This is my first story so it's not the best. Please review!