Chapter 2

John walked outside and stopped for a while to smell the fresh morning air. He had to admit to himself that it was quite refreshing to go out in the morning… Sherlock should do it once in a while, so his brain wouldn't rot. Especially now, when they don't have a case to solve the detective nearly never steppes out of the flat. John sighed slightly and started walking towards the store down the street.

"Good morning John!" somebody greeted with an overly cheerful voice. John turned quickly around to see who was talking, but couldn't see anyone. He didn't bother his mind with that and continued his journey towards the store. The chilly breeze of the morning flew right under the man's jacket and into his ears. John lifted the collar of his jacket a bit and picked up his pace.

Turning the corner to the next part of the street he saw people running and shouting in the middle of the road. A confused expression rose to Johns face. Slowing down his walk he came to the people and tried to see through the crowd.

"He's dead…" a voice from the middle announced and people gasped worryingly.

"Call the police!", a woman cried and took a few steps towards the corpse. John tried to see from the gap, but it was no use. He took out his phone and started typing.

Body found right down baker street. Coming? –JW

John knew that Sherlock would answer him soon, so he didn't put his phone away. He shoved his way through the crowd and stopped right in front of the body. There was not much to say about this body. The man was quite pale, but you could just think that he was sleeping. John bent down to feel the mans pulse.

"Are you from the police?" someone asked.

"Nearly" Watson replied with a little smirk. He let go of the man's hand and looked around.

"Who found this body?"

Silence. No body said anything. John gazed into the sky for a moment trying to get himself focused.

"We will need to know" he continued with a strict voice. A young man stepped forwards and looked at John with his scared eyes.

"I f-found him…"

"Good. There is noting to be afraid of, if you didn't kill him" He smiled to the younger, but his attention went soon back to the body and his phone.

Is it interesting? –SH

Maybe, no signs of murder or car crash. –JW

Ok. Be there in a few minutes. –SH

John dropped his phone into his pocket and once again started examining the body. There was literally nothing on it to suggest anything caused by another person or object. He lifted the man's hand up and looked at the nails. Perfectly white, but Sherlock can look at them closer. John placed his thumb on the mans mouth and opened it slightly. It was a bit dry, but otherwise clean.

"Look, its Sherlock!"

"I can't believe it's him!" people started whispering and talking. John straightened himself up and turned to welcome Sherlock.

The crowd moved so the Detective could see the body. Behind him came Lestrade and Anderson. John glared at Anderson just slightly before turning to Sherlock who was already going through the facts. Lestrade handed them white gloves, witch they put on. Sherlock took out his magnifying glass and started to walk around the body.

"36 years old, born in London. He has a dog but lives alone in a flat. Quite neat, but the clothing doesn't fit his character. Now why is that?", the detective muttered making it hard to hear or understand. John leaned closer and tried to catch every word.

"The clothes are new….but there are no tags. Bought from abroad, but nothing else to say. The shirt is too big for him, the trousers too small. Obtained on short notice. Maybe mugged? The body hasn't got any bruises or marks of homicide. It was placed here for shore." Sherlock spoke quickly and straightened up.

"This is going to be fun!" he announced with a little bit of joy showing through his normally quite cold expression. Taking two steps back he signaled Lestrade to handle the body to the morgue. As the DI and Anderson walked past him he turned on his heels and started walking back to the flat. John hurried to his side.

"So, interesting?"

"Hmm. You could say so." Sherlock stated.

"You didn't get much from him. What's next?" John questioned.

"Don't know yet. Don't hurry things John"

They went inside and upstairs. Mrs. Hudson was still asleep so they had to go upstairs carefully. John opened the apartment door. Sherlock threw his coat onto into the coatrack and paced straight to his chair. Putting his hands under his chin and staring blankly in front oh him.

"So no tea today…" John muttered whilst walking into the kitchen. He toss open the fridge door and started to look for food, but all he could find was human parts and a variety of different chemical mixtures. With a little sigh he closed the fridge and turned to the cupboard. Opening and reaching for the serial he asks:

"Why do you have to stuff the fridge full of human parts? We put our bloody food in it! Not your possibly poisonous shit!"

Of course Sherlock doesn't answer. John couldn't resist the urge of rolling his eyes as he poured some cereal into a bowl. Then he remembered that there was no milk. Shit. Now he had to eat it like that.

Sitting in the chair opposite of Sherlock John chewed his dry cereal. There was no noise except for John's cereal being eaten. He watched his flat mate staring into the emptiness. Just a little smile rose to his face as he put the cereal bowl onto the table. The man reached for his laptop on the floor and opened it. He went straight to his blog and started thinking of what to write.

The Case With No Clues

A body was found near Baker's Street. Sherlock and I were at the scene, but there was very little evidence. Even the master detective could find only a few important things. The man might have died of natural causes, but who would have moved it there? More to come, when the case goes forward.

John closed his laptop and left it on the chair. He himself walked to the door and took his coat. Now that Sherlock had a case to think about he had time to go out. Maby to the morgue or to Jeanette's place for some time. Sherlock might need some time. He stepped out of the apartment and headed downstairs.