I just wanna say one thing about this story; John and Sherlock have a pug. And that is because I gave them one in other story "The Pug Puppy". But that is not important to understand this story. So I will just say that Sherlock have this love/hate relationship to it and when he finds the dog annoying he calls it John, because John was the one who bought it. So that was all, hope you enjoy the story

December 1st – Pride comes before a fall

Outside in the streets of London were there a lot of puddles and some small piles of snow. It was cold, grey and sad to look at. But still, the streets were full of people buying Christmas presents, and other things for the upcoming holydays. It was all stressful and noisy. But inside, in 221B Baker Street was everything quiet and peacefu…

"JOHN!" shouted Sherlock from the kitchen.

"What now?" John said when he entered the room, coming from his bedroom upstairs.

Sherlock Holmes turned his head away from the microscope, and looked at his flat-mate. "Oh" he said and seemed surprised that the other man was there. "I was not talking to you, but to Junior."

John managed to stay calm. But it was hard, very hard. "How many times have I told you not to call the dog John?"

Sherlock who had returned to his work replied; "I stopped counting after a week."

John Watson sighed; living with a genius was like living with a kid. "So what was the problem with the dog, then?"

"He keeps scratching on the floor."

John looked to where the pug was; it sat beside its food bowl and looked at him with big puppy eyes. John got the dog food. "He's just hungry, Sherlock. You could have used your great observation skills to figure that out."

I knew it was hungry, Sherlock thought to himself. It's just much easier to make you feed it, John.

Sherlock got a text, but his phone was in the living room.

"John…" he said.

"Yeah, yeah… I will get it for you." John said and took the phone. Why do I even do this? He thought. I'm not his fucking butler. John looked at the screen "It's from Lestrade."

"Anything interesting?" asked Sherlock, still not looking up from the microscope.

John opened the text. "There has been a murder. He would like you to look at it. The address is here."

I have nothing else to do, Sherlock thought. "Tell him we'll be there soon." Sherlock said and finally rose.

John followed his friend.

oOo

The crime scene was an old warehouse near the Thames. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade was outside waiting for them. "This way." said Lestrade and lead them inside. "I wanna warn you, it's slightly bizarre."

John was pretty sure that there weren't many things that could surprise him, after being at war and living with Sherlock for this long, had he seen a lot of bizarre things. Actually he just needed to walk out in the kitchen ones in a while, to find something bizarre.

"We haven't touched anything." Lestrade said.

"Good" Sherlock replied "Who reported it?"

"We got an anonymous letter, written on a computer. No fingerprints nothing written on the envelope."

"So probably the killer himself." Said Sherlock before he stepped into the little room (possible an old office) with John and the DI.

The only light came from some candles around on the floor. All the furniture was removed from the room, but what really got the 3 men's attention was what was on the floor.

"Dear God." John whispered as he and the others looked down and saw the woman on the floor.

She was only in her underwear and covered in blood and around her was over 50 peacock feathers, like a tail. Her eyes were wide open. The blood came from a big wound on her neck and had made its way down her body. She lay with her legs crossed, and her arms to the sides like if she was hanging on a cross. It was indeed a terrifying sight. On the wall over her stood within in red which, thankfully, was too thick to be blood:

PRIDE COMES BEFORE A FALL

"Superbia" Sherlock said.

"What?" John asked and turned his head from the dead woman to his flat-mate.

"Superbia. It's Latin for pride, one of the seven deadly sins, and is pictured by a peacock."

"So if this is supposed to be reference to one of the deadly sins…" John began, not wanting to end the sentence.

"Will there properly come six more." Sherlock mumbled.

Lestrade sighed and picked up his phone from his pocket. "Just what we needed for the holydays: a serial killer!" He walked out the room while he talked on the phone.

"So we have to find this murderer quickly, before he kills again." John said.

"Yes." Sherlock replied. And sure the murderer would kill again. There were six more sins to show off, and this was indeed someone who liked to show off. This could be really interesting.

Sherlock stepped forward to the body and took a closer look. She had been standing when she got killed, otherwise could the blood not fall down her body like that. The blood had run all the way down to her feet, so she had been standing all the time.

Sherlock took a look at her wrists, marks after handcuffs, she had been struggling, but probably been drugged then her throat had been cut. The underwear were of an expensive brand and had been on the whole time, because those were also covered in blood. But the make-up was put on post mortem. The colors were blue like the feathers, but it was put on clumsy. Probably not put on by someone who was killed for her pride.

So this was the first chapter, and many of the others probably gonna be longer. But I will try to update round 5p.m. every day (Danish time). Hope you enjoyed