"Bored," Sherlock Holmes said with a monotone voice. He is lying on the sofa with his hands pressed together, resting under his chin.

On the opposite side of the room, John Watson sat in his usual chair drinking a cup of tea. He looked at Sherlock and shook his head, laughing under his breath. "We just finished a case less than twenty minutes ago, and you're already bored?"

"Yes, John. Unlike some people, my brain needs to be doing something at all times. My mind stimulates brain waves more than a hundred times per second. It's something that you wouldn't understand," Sherlock retorted, sounding a little bit too harsh.

"Well I'm sorry that not everyone can be like the amazing Sherlock Holmes." John got up from his chair and walked into the kitchen.

Sherlock sighed. "Check the blog again to see if there are any more cases."

"I just checked it ten minutes ago, Sherlock," John yelled out from the kitchen.

"Well then check it again."

"Fine," John said, sounding irritated, "if it will get you to shut up." He walked out of the kitchen and over to the desk and opened his laptop. He clicked open his blog. Zero New Messages. "Nope. Nothing."

Sherlock groaned. "How can you people stand doing nothing?"

Before John could answer, Sherlock mobile beeped. Sherlock immediately took it out of his pocket and sat up.

"It's a message from Lestrade," Sherlock said, smirking.

I got another case for you.

Meet me at the abandoned building on Sussex Place right next to the London School of Business.

GL

"Finally, another case!" Sherlock quickly got up and threw on his long coat and scarf. "Are you coming John?"

John quickly followed Sherlock out the door of their flat. Sherlock waved down a cab, and they started heading off to the crime scene.

"Did Lestrade say what kind of case it was?" John asked, breaking the silence in the cab.

"No, but I hope it is a nice, good murder."

After about seven minutes of driving, the cab pulled up to the sidewalk about 10 meters from the abandoned building Lestrade asked them to come to. John quickly paid the cabby and started walking up towards the crime scene with Sherlock.

There were police cars and yellow crime scene tape blocking off most of the road. Once they got up to the building, Sargent Donovan was the first to notice them.

She snarled at Sherlock and said, "What are you doing here, freak?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer but John interrupted Sherlock before he could make a rude comment back to Donovan. "Lestrade asked us to come."

"Fine," Donovan said as she lifted up the crime scene tape for Sherlock and John.

They both ducked under the tape and walked across the pavement. They passed many officers, forensics, and photographers as they walked through the door and up the rundown staircase. They came to an empty, torn up room where they found Lestrade and the dead body.

Lestrade turned around when he heard footsteps enter the room. "Thank you for coming," He said a little grim.

"It's not like I had anything better to do," Sherlock exclaimed, now looking down at the body of a young man. "Give me details."

"A young woman that attends the London School of Business called in an hour ago explaining that she heard screams coming from this building when she was walking by. We came to investigate and found the dead body," Lestrade explained.

John looked down at the body and saw something imprinted on the young man's back. "What's the deal with big "S" imprinted on the man's right shoulder blade?"

"This is the third body we found this week with that. We think there is a mass murderer on the loose and that is his or her insignia," Lestrade said with a hate filled voice.

"Why did you ask me to come? It must be something important for you to look for help," Sherlock already knew the answer but asked anyway.

"You are our only hope in finding this sick bastard."

There was a moment of silence between the three men.

"So are you taking the case or not?" Lestrade asked, hoping Sherlock says yes.

"Take the case? I wouldn't miss this opportunity for the world!"

Sherlock immediately went to work on examining the body. He knelt down right next to the corpse. Tall, probably about 5'10''. About 24 years old. A college student, guessing by his textbooks that are scattered on the other side of the room. Not wearing a shirt but was obviously wearing a suit because of the dark grey slacks and wing-toed dress shoes. So he must go to a law or business school; probably London School of Business. Guessing by the cuts and burns all over his body he was tortured. Stabbed in the chest 5 times. By how deep the wounds are, he probably got stabbed with at least a 4 inch knife. There is also a huge cut on his neck right above his Adam's apple. From the smell of burning flesh in the air and the ashes on the ground, I'm guessing that the "S" was branded on his back with a hot, iron branding rod.

Sherlock stood up and looked at Lestrade and John, ready to show off what he deduced. "He is a 24 year old college student from the London School of Business. He was probably walking past this building when he left to go home. Someone grabbed him and took him into this building. I didn't see any signs that indicated that he struggled, so he was probably drugged and then brought in here. He was tortured and then stabbed in the chest 5 times, but that didn't kill him right away, so the murderer sliced open his neck. And the insignia was put there by using a branding tool that farmers use on cattle. The murder was either done by a weak man or a woman, since five stabs in the chest with a four inch knife usually kills a person quickly. So the person must not have had enough muscle strength to force the knife into the body. It was probably a woman because young men always fall for older woman."

"You seriously think I girl did all of this?" John asked, confused.

"Well she probably had help, especially when it came to dragging the five-foot-ten young man in here," Sherlock explained as he started to walk around the room.

He found a chair with ropes right next to it. They were both stained with blood. Not so far away from the chair was the man's grey suit jacket and white button up shirt. No knife was found.

"Did you check for fingerprints?" John asked Lestrade, watching Sherlock.

"Of course we checked. This crime scene is spotless. Whoever did this, definitely knows what they are doing."

Sherlock kept examining the dim room. There was something strange about it, but he couldn't figure out what. He looked at the ripped up wall paper. It had a dull pattern of brown and green diagonal stripes. Then he noticed something.

Sherlock walked up to the wall. Some of the stripes where slightly off from the others. He grabbed a corner of the wall paper and ripped it off. There was something carved into the bare, wood wall. He couldn't read it.

Sherlock turned to John. "Do you have your pocket knife with you?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah," John answered, sticking his hand into his left pocket. He handed it to Sherlock.

Sherlock pulled a glove off his left hand. He opened the knife and before John could say anything, Sherlock sliced open his palm.

"Sherlock! Why the hell did you do that?" John ran up to Sherlock and quickly took the now blood covered knife out of his hands.

"You will see." Sherlock took his bloody hand and wiped it over the carvings in the wall. The words started to become more readable as Sherlock went over it for the second and third time with his hand.

"Oh my God. It-it says something." John looked closer at the wall.

"What is it?" Lestrade asked, walking up to what Sherlock and John were looking at.

John and Sherlock gaped at what they read. Sherlock on the other hand didn't look surprised at all with what it said.

Come Get Me Sherlock.

Love,

The Scarlet Letter