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"John? John? John?!"
Sherlock called the doctor's name as he tore through the building, searching for his flatmate. The darkness had little effect on Sherlock's ability to see, for his eyes had adjusted long ago and he was used to finding his way around in the dark for one case or another. A short while ago, the detective had been momentarily distracted by the sight of flashing blue lights pulling up at the side of the building, and in straying over to the window in the hope that it was Lestrade arriving, only to discover instead that it was a convoy of fire engines for which Sherlock could see no imminent need, he had managed to become separated from John, who had presumably carried on pursuing James Winter.
"I'm afraid Doctor Watson is no longer with us, Mr Holmes."
Sherlock froze on the spot. He knew exactly who that voice belonged to. "Show yourself, Winter."
"Funny, Doctor Watson said exactly the same thing when I caught up with him."
James Winter emerged from the darkness in a particularly dramatic fashion, having purposely given himself an almost ethereal look by shining a torch underneath his chin, the beam of light illuminating his face but leaving the rest of his body hidden. His flair for amateur dramatics put those of Mycroft and Sherlock to shame.
Sherlock took note of Winter's words. 'Caught up with John' implied that Winter had deliberately sought John out, and had chosen to make his presence known to the doctor, rather than allowing said doctor to stumble upon his whereabouts. This was something new. Criminals on the run didn't usually go out of their way to make themselves known to their pursuers, unless...
"Stupid, stupid! Obvious!" murmured Sherlock angrily under his breath. "It was a trap. You provided me with a clue to your whereabouts in order to lure us here, not give yourself up."
James Winter smirked. "Good, you've finally worked it out. It took you a bit longer than I had anticipated. I was right though; your performance is significantly weakened by your attachment to Doctor Watson, which caused you to prioritize locating him over locating me."
Sherlock ignored that jibe. It wasn't important. "What have you done with John?"
"I've done nothing to John. It's more a matter of what John has done to himself. You see, Mr Holmes, I need you for something, something for which Doctor Watson would be an unnecessary spare part. He would have attempted to meddle with what I have planned for you. He would have tried to rescue you, which I simply couldn't allow because you are my leverage, if you like, for getting out of the country safely. I don't think your dear big brother would allow anything to happen to you, would he? You are my most valuable bargaining chip, because I doubt that Mycroft Holmes would endeavor to save Doctor Watson's life with such fervor."
"Dull," said Sherlock, rolling his eyes at the predictability of Winter's motives, while the cogs within his mind palace began to whir as they tried to deduce what had happened to John. The doctor must have been coerced into something by Winter, must have been given some motivation to harm himself, because otherwise John was perfectly capable of defending himself against Winter, especially since he had been armed with his gun.
"Tut tut, Mr Holmes, I hadn't finished. Doctor Watson, therefore, was disposable, as he was of no use to me. His death was non-negotiable. Yours is."
Sherlock sighed impatiently. "I'm no use to you dead, so stop trying to sound threatening. Now, I know that you've killed three men in America, and one man here in London. The question remains, therefore, as to why you've forced John to harm himself rather than do it yourself. You're obviously no stranger to taking the lives of innocent people, so why is John so different?"
"It seems that John is an exception to everybody's rules, not just yours. Either by accident or on purpose in order to manipulate him, you've let John see snippets of you that you thought you'd managed to lock away for ever. Emotional, weak little segments of the great Sherlock Holmes, the man who keeps everybody at a safe distance, even his own brother, because he's witnessed the devastation that emotions can cause firsthand. Haven't you, Sherlock?"
"Stop it," Sherlock barked, clenching his fists. Now was not the time to go delving into his past. He was more concerned with his future, and whether or not John would still be a part of it. "Where is John?" he demanded. "Tell me!"
Winter smirked, and reached for something in his pocket. Sherlock altered his stance into a fighting stance. "I can do better than that, Mr Holmes. I can show you."
