A/N: I'm just going chapter by chapter for now, and reviews would be greatly appreciated! I'll try to update as often as I can, but school's starting up again in a few days. Please tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: I own nothing from Sherlock, and all characters and affiliations of the show belong to the writers and producers as well as the BBC.
Chapter 1
John Watson had never enjoyed the 'normal life,' as some would call it. That was precisely why he shared a flat with the world's only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes. He craved the action and thrill that he received while in the military. Sherlock was able to give him that, and much more.
It had been about a year since John, the ex-army doctor, moved in with Sherlock. In that year, they solved many cases together and grew closer as friends, no matter how many times Sherlock denied it. However, John had a dilemma; he was in love with the detective. He knew it was ridiculous, for he had been a straight man for as long as he could remember. On top of that, John knew Sherlock would never return his feelings, always saying he was "married to his work." So, not wanting to jeopardize their friendship, John kept it a secret and tried to ignore his feelings.
Today was just like any other day at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock was playing his violin, still wearing his pajama pants and robe, and ignoring the tea and toast that John made him. The doctor read his morning newspaper and sipped on his own tea. Suddenly, out of Sherlock's hanging coat, the detective's phone sang a familiar tune, indicating that Lestrade was calling. The tall figure put his violin down carefully and briskly walked over to the source of the noise. Retrieving the device out of the coat pocket, he answered the call.
"Sherlock Holmes," the detective stated plainly. "Lestrade, yes…. Where?... We'll be there in half an hour."
"Case?" John inquired, already knowing the answer.
"Obviously," replied the low voice of the detective. "The murder of 3 different women, they believe the cases to be connected somehow." Sherlock tossed his phone onto the vacant armchair and strode towards his room to get dressed. John drained the remainder of tea out of his mug and folded his paper, leaving both items on the table. He got out of his chair and shuffled up the stairs to his own bedroom to get ready for the day.
After he was dressed and ready to go, John marched down the stairs from his room, not at all surprised to see Sherlock waiting for him near the door. The doctor grabbed his coat and followed Sherlock's slender figure out the door and down the stairs, passing Mrs. Hudson on the way out.
"You boys off on another case?" she asked politely.
"A triple murder, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock explained happily. "We should be back sometime this afternoon. Dinner would be lovely for tonight when we return."
"You boys be careful," the landlady said with a smile. "And just this once. I'm not your housekeeper, after all," she reminded them, as the men paraded out the door and onto the pavement. Mrs. Hudson closed the door as Sherlock went to hail a cab.
The cab pulled up next to the men and Sherlock told the address to the cabbie. Soon, they were heading towards the crime scene to begin the case. As they rode along the London streets, John couldn't help but take a few occasional glances at the ravishing detective. A few times, the doctor thought Sherlock caught him looking at him, although he hoped he was too lost in his mind palace to notice. That is, until Sherlock called him out on his behavior.
"What? What is it," the detective requested.
"What- uh… What do you mean?"
"Well, you won't stop looking at me, obviously something's bothering you, seeing as you haven't spoken much all day. What is it? Did you have a fight with that girl you've been dating? What was her name?"
"Celine. And she and I aren't seeing each other anymore, for your information." John responded, annoyed at Sherlock for catching him staring.
"Hmm. Well, I suppose there's something else, then, am I right? Since you've barely said anything to me all morning, I'll assume it was me who made you upset. So whatever it was, please tell me now so that it won't interfere with your ability to help with the case."
"No, Sherlock, I'm not… It's not like that. I'm not upset at you or anything, I just…" John trailed off. He didn't know why he was acting so strangely towards the detective. He never acted this way around the women he fancied, so why was Sherlock any different?
"Do you not want to talk about it?" Sherlock asked.
"Not right now, Sherlock." John answered bitterly.
"Well, whatever it is… Just know, John, that I'm not great with helping in the area of your relationship drama," Sherlock mentioned.
"Yeah, I know that, thanks," John replied quickly, indicating that he was done talking about the subject. As much as he wanted Sherlock to know how he felt about him, he wouldn't tell him (especially not in the back of a taxi on their way to a crime scene).
The rest of the cab ride was relatively quiet between the two men. John willed himself not to look over at his flatmate, no matter how much he wanted to. But he pulled through, and after a long, agonizing 15 more minutes of staring out the window, they arrived at the scene of the crime and walked up to a waiting team of detectives and officers.
"Morning," Lestrade greeted the men as they walked up to the group of workers. Donovan turned around from talking to another coworker a few feet away and scowled at the "freak" and Anderson looked up from one of the bodies in the far corner of the lot, giving Sherlock a short, but meaningful dirty look and quickly going back to work.
"Morning, Lestrade. What a warm welcome from your minions," John stated sarcastically, seeing the looks that Sherlock received from the two Scotland Yard employees.
"They're obviously still upset about the last case," Sherlock remarked. "When Anderson and Donovan were frivolously texting one another during the case, likely the messages concerning me, I took it upon myself to point out their obvious love affair, thus, their present distance from each other. I'd say they were still embarrassed about my conclusion, and, wanting to keep at least the slightest amount of dignity and professionalism, they decided to keep their distance during work hours."
"Well, that's none of my business, and none of yours to share, Sherlock," Lestrade replied. "Now, we have 3 women, all from different parts of London, all around the same age. What can you tell us?"
"Was there any identification?" John inquired.
"None of them carried anything, no purses, nothing in any of their pockets, nothing at all," Lestrade responded thoughtfully.
"Give John the case files, I need to look at the bodies," Sherlock added before he left the group to examine the victims.
"Yeah, sure. This way, John."
John followed Lestrade to his car, where he retrieved the files for the case. Information from all three of the victims were included, as well as a variety of suspects. John flipped through the women's medical files and noted anything that seemed out of the ordinary or seemed to connect any of the cases. Seeing nothing for the time being, the army doctor decided he would take the files home and look over the case later. Just in time, he decided, as Sherlock was making his way over to the car to stand next to John and Lestrade.
"No sign of trauma in two of the victims," he started, "but the youngest had strangulation marks visible on her neck. The former two were knocked unconscious by the same weapon and at about the same time (judging by the marks and coloration), but the third woman was placed in this location after the others were already here. Most likely the suspect tried to make it look like the cases were all connected. However, I think we have two different cases going on that just so happened to be committed at around the same hour, likely the early hours of the day."
"Come on, Sherlock," Lestrade ordered. "Don't you think it's a little far-fetched that two different murder cases happened at the exact same time and their victims disposed of in the same place?"
"No, I think it's convenient." Sherlock ended the conversation by briskly strolling away from the Detective Inspector's car and towards the street. John shrugged at a confused Lestrade and followed quickly behind, having to jog in order to catch up to the taller man's long strides.