A/N; This was a little oneshot that just completely spun out of control. It's about time I started a new series, I suppose :)

Reviews are love! And Mycroft gets a piece of cake for every review!

Ta,

-Anonymoustache

"Okay…Thank you, Lestrade. Yes, we'll be there soon. Okay. Goodbye."

Sherlock hung up the phone and jumped off the sofa. Finally! The criminal world had been so boring lately. But a brutal triple murder? That was definitely worth the wait.

"John! John, come on! We have a case!" he yelled as he pulled on his coat and began to do up the buttons.

"Go ahead! See you later!" John yelled.

Sherlock stopped and frowned. "Aren't you coming?"

John poked his head out of his room. "I've told you about five times, Sherlock; I'm going down to the pub with my rugby mates tonight. We've been planning it for weeks now!"

"…Oh." Sherlock looked confused. "But…what will I do? I need an assistant."

"You'll get along fine, Sherlock. I don't do that much. Take your skull; he'll probably be more useful than me."

Sherlock shook his head. "No…there's no one who can take your place, John."

John walked out of his room, straightening his thin black jumper. He dropped a kiss on Sherlock's cheek and rubbed his silky brown curls. "That might just be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

John walked into the kitchen and began to make a cup of tea. He opened the sugar bowl and swore, alarmed at the contents. "Jesus, Sherlock! Toes in the sugar bowl? God…you could at least have taken the sugar out first!"

Sherlock buttoned the last button on his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck, turning up his coat the way he always did. "Experiment. Don't move it!"

Sherlock darted out the door and down to the street before John could say anything in response.

Three Hours Later

The case had been painfully transparent, Sherlock thought as he ran down the alley in pursuit of the criminal. The murdered women had a rather obvious connection in that their murderer had dated all three at some point in his life. James Tallner was supposed to be on medication for schizophrenia, but had stopped taking the pills and disappeared, according to his parents, whom he lived with.

He skidded to a stop at the end of the alley. Tallner was nowhere in sight.

Sherlock swore. He was right behind him all the way…so where was he now?

Suddenly, he felt a searing pain in his side. Sherlock fell to his knees. He reached a trembling hand up to his side and felt a knife. He yanked it out and it fell to the ground with a gentle click.

His hands began to shake as scarlet blood forming a swirling pool on the pavement.

Sherlock yanked off his scarf and pressed it to the wound, trying to prevent the blood loss. It was a very accurate stab, he would give them that; it had missed any major internal organs, therefore preventing an almost instant death. Instead, he would most likely bleed out. Very slowly.

If someone didn't find him, he would die.

The world had never seemed so silent. It was a weighty silence, like the feeling before a storm. The stab was filling Sherlock's head with white noise, blocking out his deductions.

But it was precise; too precise for just an ordinary mugger. Besides, his wallet was still in his coat pocket. He pressed the scarf harder against his side, trying to numb the pain, and spoke in a low voice. "Why did you kill them, Tallner?"

A man stepped out of the shadows next to him and laughed. "I
was wondering how long it would take you to figure out I was still here." He looked down at Sherlock and kicked him right in the knife wound, knocking him to the ground. "The great Sherlock Holmes, taken down by a single stab."

Sherlock groaned. The pain was so intense.

"They ruined my life. Broke my heart." Tallner snarled. "They deserved to die."

Sherlock looked up. "No one deserves to die. Not like that."

Tallner grinned. "You're going to, though. And I bet you deserve it more than anyone else."

He leaned down and picked up the knife, observing it casually. "I've heard things about you, Sherlock Holmes. There's many names for you here on the streets, d'you know that? Freak, sociopath, psycho-detective…even the virgin," he said softly.

Sherlock shivered, eyes wide with an indescribable emotion.

Tallner laughed softly. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to change that last one. You're not really my type, Mr. Holmes, if you know what I mean," he winked.

He stood and paced in a circle around him. "I know that I'm your type, though. That was another one. You're not just the virgin, you're the gay boy, too. Did you know that?" He flicked the knife at a wine barrel, where it stuck, still vibrating from the throw. "Heard you even have a boyfriend."

"Shut up." Sherlock said through gritted teeth. He had thirty minutes, at best; after that, he was a goner.

"You know, you're not as smart as all the press and the former clients make you out to be." Tallner said calmly, going over and pulling the knife away from the wine barrel. He twirled it in his fingers. "I mean, look at you! Lying there on the ground, dying, bleeding out, slowly…all because of me." He grinned. "Ain't I special?"

"The joke's on you, Tallner…" Sherlock muttered.

The smile slid off of Tallner's face. "What?"

Sherlock pulled his phone out from behind his back. "Pride cometh before a fall, Mr. Tallner. And you have just fallen." He triumphantly pressed Send.

John's phone buzzed just as Thomas was telling the punchline of an entertaining joke. He blushed as all the eyes at the table turned to him.

"Girlfriend must be getting a bit antsy, huh, mate?" said Daniel, giving John a friendly shove.

"Um, yeah…probably." John said, deciding that now was not the time for the I'm-dating-a-boy talk. He pulled out his phone and surreptitiously checked it under the table as Thomas went into another joke to distract everyone.

Stabbed in an alleyway half an hour from Baker Street; come get me.

John, strangely enough, felt anger rising inside him. He remembered, quite suddenly, last April fool's day, when he had gone to the pub with these same mates he had there now. Sherlock had texted him something like this, and John had come running. However, when he got there Sherlock was fine.

Lestrade had told him to prank John, that was Sherlock's excuse. John was still not happy at all about it.

He rolled his eyes. If Sherlock really thought that would work twice, he had another thing coming.

Nice try, Sherlock. But I'm not falling for that one again.

There. Straight and to the point. John smirked. Sherlock wouldn't think him stupid now. He put his phone on silent and went back to the conversation at hand.