Train-ed Killer

by SherlockChlo

The sequel to 'A Poisoned Woman'. Sherlock is having some trouble when he returns from the three years that he was 'dead'. Everyone has moved on, except one person. When Sherlock and John, along with Molly and Irene Adler, are set up for the vicious murder of six people on a train, will Sherlock's problems get in the way and destroy him from the inside out?

2. Chapter 2

Hello again. Thanks for reading. Before I let you read the next chapter I just want to warn you that this whole chapter probably doesn't make sense... You see a different side to Molly. A different side to John. And a, well to me any way, scary side to Sherlock. But we also see what's been troubling him for the first time and who's involved. Any way, I hope that you enjoy this next chapter.

All rights go to SACD and the BBC.

Chapter 2

The Train

"Come on, John. You're being way too slow with your walking." Sherlock was waiting for John outside Scotland Yard since 08:45 exactly. He managed to refrain himself from arriving any earlier in case he appeared to look too excited, and he knew inside him that it wouldn't be great for him if he looked like that. "It's 09:23. It's taken you 31 minutes and 25 seconds longer to get here than it should have done, and I know that you left at 08:35. So, where have you been?" John was now by his friend's side and looking up at him with the same look he always gave Sherlock when he managed to know how long ago he'd left.

"I dropped Mary off at Bart's because, believe it or not, she has a job there. Or do you not remember information like that?" Sherlock looked at his phone and started to scroll to one particular text; it was from Mycroft:

'John is at Baker Street delivering a parcel to Mrs Hudson. He'll be late, Sherlock. And there's no sign of Mary either. Must be on the late shift still. -MH'

"Mycroft, of course."

"Mary wasn't even home this morning, she was late home from a night shift." John sighed, rolling his eyes at how his friend still kept tabs on when and where he was at every specific point each day. "You should really think twice before lying to me, John. I have people everywhere. Even now, after all of the men are gone, I still worry about you, constantly." John laughed, not meaning to have let it out. "What?" Sherlock placed his hand inside his pocket to reach for the tazor he had pick pocketed off of an officer when she came out for a cigarette. She had asked Sherlock whether he had a lighter, he gave her his and managed to grab her tazor in the process.

"Oh nothing." Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "Just for a moment there, I thought I was talking to Mycroft." John once again laughed and then walked into Scotland Yard. Inside both Molly and Irene were waiting for the two men, neither looking particularly happy about being here again after yesterday's events. "Good morning Molly. Have you recovered from yesterday's, 'adventure'?" Molly giggled slightly.

"Hello, no I haven't. It's shocked me a lot how someone could frame us all like that and just walk away without a single scratch on their reputation. It just seems a bit unfair, you know." Molly was her usual smiling self as soon as Sherlock walked into the same room as her, and today was no exception. "Hello Sherlock."

"Why is it that we're all on a case together and everyone feels the need to say hello to each other? You all know each other, even if it was just because you shared a cell for a few hours. Or someone shot you." Sherlock walked past the group with a sarcastic smile and towards the desk. "Let Lestrade know we're here. Thank you." He smiled sarcastically at the receptionist.

"Sherlock means, 'Hello. Good to see you all again. Although one of you tried to kill both me and John so, not really you. Another helped me survive, so it's great to see you again. And lastly, my 'best friend', thanks for coming after I tried to kill you yesterday'." Molly and Irene looked at each other.

"You expect me to try and get along with this frail excuse of a woman? She's a pathologist who practically throws herself at Sherlock so that he will notice her. And has he? No." Irene said to both Molly and John. "Oh, and guess what. I kissed him last night. How does that feel?"

"Okay, that's enough. We don't want this to get-"

"At least I'm not a whore!"

"Too personal. Fine," John sighed. "let it out of your systems, I suppose."

Irene glared at Molly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You're a whore and you can't deny it!" Molly shouted back at her. "Oh, I may 'throw' myself at him, but at least I helped to save his life. What did you do? Called him a virgin, blackmailed him, proved that love isn't good for him and then he saved your life." Irene's eyes widened as she sighed. "Then you went and shot poor John here. I don't think that's even something to argue with." Molly stormed away with John following her. Irene was left speechless in the reception area waiting for John to return, but he didn't. She eventually followed after collecting her mind and reputation up from the floor around her.

"Are you okay, Molly? That was a bit of an outburst!" John wasn't trying to defend Irene at all, considering that she tried to kill him a few years before, but he didn't want there to be unnecessary ice between any of them during this case.

"I know John. I've just been so fed up lately and little Miss 'Perfect' over there... She just makes my blood boil." Molly had her head in her hands on the desk; in all honesty to herself she couldn't believe what she had just shouted. "I mean, what does she know about Sherlock that I don't. I mean-erm." John smiled at her making sure that she knew he didn't care what she said about his friend. "I'm sorry." Molly smiled back as John pulled her into hug her.

"Oh great, now everyone is hugging each other. Fantastic." Sherlock rolled his eyes as he walked away towards Lestrade who had made himself known to Sherlock by accidentally slamming a door open. His cheeks had turned a slight pink colour, conclusion. He was embarrassed by what he had just done. "Lestrade." He gave his hand to him, which was unusual but Lestrade accepted.

"Is everyone here? You and John still need to question Molly and Irene Adler!" Lestrade told him knowing that they would be the only two that would actually get close to Irene Adler. "I've put you with Adler and John with Molly, is that okay for you?"

Sherlock huffed at the placement, but John would never go into the same room with Irene Adler alone after what he tried to do to him at Scarlett's funeral. He sighed and then replied, "Of course you're putting me with the harder one to crack. We both survived a mysterious death and now you're putting me in the same room as her because we're practically the same. How predictable of you." Sherlock almost shouted at Lestrade, but he managed to hold it back at a small yell on certain words instead.

"No, I just think that you would both be more comfortable in this arrangement."

"I think it's a good arrangement. Leave the robots to squabble between themselves, while us human beings actually talk about something relevant and get down to the truth. Seems, logical if you ask me." John had appeared by both of the men with the two women standing behind him. Both Molly and Irene half smirked at what John said to the men trying not to let the laughter leave their mouths.

"Yes, well nobody asked you, did they?" Sherlock snapped back. There was pure anger from inside his eyes as he stepped forward to shout at John. "Most people don't ask you for your opinion. But you always have to voice it, don't you. That's your problem, John. You don't think about what's coming out of your mouth!" Sherlock shouted at John, watching as his friend's face turned from a smile to disgust in a matter of seconds. Molly looked at Sherlock with the worst look, it was worse than John's by a few hundred miles. She grabbed John's arm and started to walk him away before something started in the foyer.

"Let's go John, you're asking me some questions, remember?" Molly looked back at Sherlock as she walked John away. He was hurt and she could feel it from the way his arms flinched every few seconds. "It's okay." She told him as she turned back to the door they were approaching. John didn't talk though, he didn't want to talk about it.

Lestrade turned to Sherlock and snapped, "What was that all about?" Sherlock just hummed at Lestrade's question; it was obvious to the two others around him that he didn't care for anyone any more. Not even John? "Sherlock! John is your-Let's go Irene." Lestrade placed his hand cautiously on Irene's shoulder leading her into a different room. Sherlock was left alone in the corridor; left to think about his 'actions' and what he had just done.

"Sorry about this Molly, I don't think you deserve to be questioned at all considering our names are cleared. But Sherlock got a big punch up from it and I gave lots of information, so they might need some more to make up for Sherlock's lack of cooperation." John sat opposite Molly and put his hands together on the table. Molly giggled and smiled at John. She was fine with this considering Sherlock had been so mean to John. She would do this if it helped to solve the case.

"Oh, it's fine. It's the least I can do to help. How many questions are there?" John looked at the paper that was on the table and counted.

"I'll leave out the pictures of our 'signatures' because I've already got rid of that part by noticing the left handed style of the killer. So, where were you at 21:58 Tuesday evening?"

"At Bart's Morgue. There was a new body in and Sherlock always asks for tattoo categorisations on bodies, so I charted them for him. I was there until eleven, as I remember. I don't really know, I was tired by then." John sat writing down what Molly told him as she spoke, just like Dimmock had done the day before. When he finished he looked up at the woman sitting opposite him.

"Now I need you to look at these pictures and names and see whether you know any of these people that were murdered." John handed the pictures in order. "Please look at the first one. This man is-"

"Bradley Cooper." Molly interrupted, so she knew him then.

"Yes, it is. How do you know him?" John was slightly surprised by Molly knowing the first name on the list, his faced showed that completely.

"I-I went to school with him. We practically grew up together if I'm honest." Molly stopped and cleared her throat before continuing. "He was very nice in school until we went into High School and he felt the need to make me look like an idiot every chance he got. It was very embarrassing at those moments, but I believe him to have become a small business owner. And look where I am. Doing autopsies on dead bodies." She chuckled slightly. "Oh, sorry."

"He doesn't sound very nice, well. When he was alive he didn't sound like a great person." John tried to comfort her about his death slightly by saying this. "Sorry."

"It's okay John. How was he-you know." Molly didn't want to say the words as they should have been said because in terms of someone she knew, it didn't sound right in her mouth.

"They believe that it was a poison at first which caused them to be paralysed. And then the killer dragged each and every one of them into the toilet of their carriage, saying that they were the victim's friend and they were 'sick'. They were true in that respect." John paused and looked as Molly didn't seem to move from her position. "The killer then used different methods of killing which involved a series of knives or hammers which they kept in a rucksack or handbag, depending on the gender, and made sure that every death was slow and that they could feel every ounce of pain." John's voice had started to sound as though he was enjoying the thought of what he was describing, this had caused Molly to move back from the table and sit awkwardly facing him. "Sorry I-I don't know what came over me." Molly's eyelids fluttered at the sight of John a few times, John left the room quickly. What was he doing?

"Christ-" Molly whispered to herself as she brought her knees up to her chest. She started to rock backwards and forwards slightly in the chair as a source of comfort, as she hugged her legs as tightly as she could to herself. She had tried to keep herself composed when John was in the room but now that he had gone to take a breather she let her tears fall. In a room all alone Molly Hooper sat on a chair, curled into a tight ball, sobbing into her own legs. She stopped abruptly to look at her phone, it had vibrated in her pocket seven times in the last minute. Someone obviously wanted her attention.

'I would like you to reply to John on my behalf. It seems more appropriate if you do it instead of me. -SH'

'Have you don't think not because I can still hear you crying. Did you know that crying is bad for everyone around you, especially for someone called Irene Adler. -IA on SH' phone. :)'

'Molly, I suggest you stop crying. It doesn't look good and it makes you look very weak. -SH'

Molly didn't want to read any more of Sherlock's words. Of course she didn't know whether it was Sherlock considering Irene had his phone, but it seemed like the things he would say to her. Did he not care that she had helped him survive his fall all those years ago. No. He obviously didn't want to remember that Molly Hooper, the pathologist who managed to put up with all the shit that he threw at her, helped him-Sherlock Holmes- survive something that he should have died from. "Next time I won't be there." Molly managed to mumble to herself. The crying had started again due to Sherlock's words against her and this time it wouldn't stop. She decided that the best way forward for her was to leave Scotland Yard and Sherlock to do their work. Molly had her own work to attend to after all and neither Irene Adler nor Sherlock Holmes would get in the way of that. After a few minutes contemplating her choice, and with John still calming himself down, Molly picked up her stuff and made her way out of the room to the entrance. She saw Sherlock start to approach her in the corner of her eye and mumbled to herself, "Fuck off!" Sherlock heard her 'mumbling' but still grabbed her wrist to stop her from leaving so soon. When she felt the pressure she jerked her hand away immediately. "Go away, Sherlock. I don't want to deal with you crap right now." Sherlock looked at her with the same sarcastic expression he had been using for the last half an hour in order to get Irene off of him for two seconds. In response, Molly simply rolled her eyes and started to walk off again. Once more Sherlock grabbed her wrist and pulled her back but this time he made sure that it hurt. "Ow. You're hurting me!" Molly turned back to see a new look in his eyes, a look that she had never seen before but John had warned her about. "Sherlock-" She was still trying to fight her way out, turning and pulling, just trying to release her.

"Molly. He-Help me..." Molly turned to look at the man who still held her tightly, his eyes fluttered shut changing him back to the person he was before. She couldn't believe what she'd just seen, even though it was a quick sentence that probably meant nothing. "You can't leave yet." He let her hand fall back to her side, she too would have serious bruising there later on in the day, just like John's.

"And why not, Sherlock? You have been sending me horrible text messages and you still want me here to help you." Sherlock's eyes squinted at Molly, he hadn't sent any texts to her. His hands suddenly started to rummage through every pocket that he had both on his coat and his blazer; leaving Molly baffled by what he was trying to do. To both her and everyone around them, Sherlock looked as though he was covered in deadly ants. This was his attempt at getting rid of them. " What are you doing?" He continued to look for a few more seconds and then stopped just as quickly as he had started.

"My phone." Sherlock turned away from Molly and looked art Irene who was standing in the middle of the reception foyer area, one hand was placed firmly on her hip and the other held tightly onto a phone as she waved it slightly through the air. The free hand then moved itself to the side of Irene's head and made a very sarcastic wave at the tow of them, as if to say 'I'm messing with the pair of you', but that wasn't what Irene was thinking at all. Sherlock's head turned back to Molly's, he sighed rolling his eyes and then started to walk towards Irene. Her smile represented everything that she was thinking, but Sherlock chose to ignore that detail. It showed him everything that he didn't want to see in her behaviour. She too walked forward to meet Sherlock in the middle, he hips swaying as she walked. "Oh, seduction. Don't try that one on me." Sherlock whispered to no one in particular. When they met; Sherlock grabbed for the phone with little success. Her hand simply dropped it into the other to mess Sherlock around. Once more Sherlock reached for the tazor in his pocket, but this time he made sure that it left it's holding place. "Are you sure that you want to play this game?" Sherlock asked her clutching even tighter onto the object in his hand. The tazor moved closer to Irene's body, but not without her noticing. Slowly she handed Sherlock back his phone, but it wasn't for her sake. It was for his; imprisoned for both pickpocketing and tazoring without a license under the Force. "Wise decision." He snatched the phone off her just as Lestrade arrived by their sides. Sherlock didn't even notice his presence because he was too busy scrolling through the texts that Irene had sent to Molly, but his voice still managed to slur some words through. Eventually, the thing that stopped Sherlock from his attention on his phone was Molly's voice.

"It was Irene. I'm sorry, I didn't mean- Oh, never mind." Molly's cheeks blushed slightly as she placed her fingers on the bridge of her nose, once again Molly had made a fool of herself. "Oh, hello John." Her eyes looked to the man that was smaller than the other two. He had managed to sneak into the group without anyone knowing.

"Do you want to finish, I'm sorry about that." John asked her holding out his hand towards her. He could see in her eyes that she had been crying, a lot, and she still clutched her aching wrist. Molly took his hand and allowed him to lead her away. "I should see to you about that." Molly pulled her arm away and tried to keep it as close to her body but as far away from John as she could. "Did Sher-"

"John. I don't want to talk about it. It's not important, and this case is."

"I'll just ask Mycroft for the CCTV if you don't tell me-"

"Okay." Molly whispered. "Sherlock grabbed me. But it was only to stop me from leaving the building. Irene stole his phone and sent me these texts and they were, I don't think hurtful is the right word to use." She made the sound of a half chuckle. "I believed them." She held out her wrist to John. "Is it bad?" John pulled back Molly's sleeve to reveal a cluster of already blue and black bruises on her wrist. Molly, on the other hand, didn't want to look at what damage had been done.

"Molly, don't let him make you feel like a waste of space because you're original and do you know what? You can't be replaced." Molly rolled her eyes at John.

"Are you quoting Katy Perry?"

"Maybe" John let Molly's wrist go and they both burst into laughter. "I blame Mary." He joked allowing Molly to return into the room first. After she had sat down, John turned back to see Sherlock standing at the end of the corridor. Sherlock nodded alerting John that his phone was about to vibrate.

'Tell her I'm sorry, will you. I don't think she'll listen to me in person. How bad is it? -SH'

John looked up from his phone to see that Sherlock had vanished again, probably gone to kill Irene over the whole situation. Walking back into the room and sitting down he typed back:

'I don't think she'll appreciate that. Why don't you become a man and actually face up to the things that you have do do as a human being. If you had twisted hard enough, you could have broken her wrist. Better luck next time. -_- You really hurt her Sherlock, I'm surprised if she ever forgives you again. -JW'

John looked up at Molly who was still clutching her wrist. "Now we match." John pulled back his sleeve to reveal the blue and black bruises that had formed even darker and deeper on his own wrist. Molly let out a small gasp, she didn't mean to but John had exactly the same marks on his arm from the day before. "Sherlock's new mark, I believe."

"Wha-What happened?" Molly leant forward to place her hand on John's wrist. It still hurt him, but not as much as Molly's was still currently hurting her.

"I placed my hand on his forehead. It seems that he doesn't like people checking his temperature." Molly chuckled slightly, what was wrong with Sherlock at the moment? "Shall we continue?" She nodded so John started again with the questions.

Lestrade stared at Sherlock with disappointment. "What was that about?" He asked noticing that Sherlock's hand was limp by his side. It hurt from the tight grip that he had over Molly's wrist, but he wouldn't tell anyone. "Sherlock?" He wouldn't listen. His head was spinning too fast to even notice what was going on around him. Without a warning, a hand slapped him round the face bringing him back into the present World. It was Irene.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock snapped back grabbing Irene by the wrist. "Did you manage to cut yourself?" Her eyes widened, Sherlock really did remember everything that she had said to him all those years ago. "Oh, no. You did not. Sorry." He flung Irene's hand back at her.

"Sherlock?"

"Lestrade, I'd advise you to do your own conduction with this, woman, because I have no further interest in being within an inch of her. Good day." Sherlock pushed past Irene making sure she almost fell into Lestrade. He then walked to the corridor that both John and Molly were on. He watched as Molly entered the room and sent a quick text to John. He watched as John turned back out and saw him, nodding his head towards him. John then looked at his phone, so he used this opportunity as an escape time. He ran to Lestrade's office, picked the lock, threw his coat over the chair and then sat down with his feet on the desk. "Too easy." Sherlock mumbled to himself knowing that nobody else would be able to hear him. He then heard his phone make its text alert sound, it was John's reply. In response Sherlock rolled his eyes and typed a quick reply.

'It was just the same amount of pressure as I applied to you, John. You forgave me, did you not? -SH'

He had to wait a long time for the reply. 'He's probably talking to Molly about the case a lot' Sherlock presumed. But when the reply did arrive, it hurt his eyes like nothing ever has before.

'Sherlock Holmes. From this moment forward you and I are no longer friends. Our relationship is strictly professional now because I can't face knowing that I'm friends with someone like you. I know that I've given you lots of attempts at being a gracious and caring human being, and since the beginning of our friendship I have let your arrogance pass. But now, you're acting too far out of the ordinary. Threatening to kill me. Hurting Molly both mentally and physically. When are you going to stop? I knew that our friendship wouldn't be the same when you appeared to me again, but I didn't expect this. I'm sorry, just don't go hurting anyone else. Irene Adler I'm fine with, but I don't want to see you behind bars, no matter how much I hate you. I hope you understand why I'm saying this to you.

Goodbye Sherlock.

Your hurt and distant assistant,

Doctor John Watson.'

Sherlock stared at the phone for a few minutes, digesting the information as he continued to read it over and over. At this point he couldn't hold back the tears that were in his eyes. He let them fall from his eyes and down his cheeks onto the screen. This made the test hard to read causing Sherlock to get angry. He tightened his grip on the phone, just like he'd done to both John and Molly's wrists. After a few seconds of crushing the screen, Sherlock's phone had been thrown against a wall and was now smashed even more than what his hands had managed to do. He was now curled up in the corner of the room clutching his knees to himself. For the first time in the last two days, Sherlock showed a different emotion. He sobbed into his legs making sure that he didn't make too much noise while he let out the pain he felt. Why was he feeling like this? "John..." Sherlock whispered into his hands as he wiped the tears away. With one more sudden motion towards his phone in order to destroy it completely, Sherlock stopped and heard his message tone release itself one more time. He picked the phone up as carefully as he could, in order not to break it any more. The message that was left on his phone read, or as far as Sherlock could deduce, like this:

'Sherlock Holmes. I am disappointed in your actions of emotions. Sort yourself out or, I'm afraid, that I'll have to take you back into rehab. How long has it been since you slept? -MH'

"Perfect. Piss off, Mycroft." Sherlock mumbled to himself before throwing his phone at the camera that allowed Mycroft to see everything. He hadn't told anyone before, but Sherlock had been in rehab for two years-refusing to take treatment- for his drug addiction. He had started because he had lost his only friend, before John, that he had ever had in his life. An emotional trigger had started his addiction to cocaine all those years ago, which led Mycroft to keep him in rehab. "Two. Years." During his stay, Sherlock refused treatment of his addiction constantly. Mycroft and the workers refused to let him leave until he fulfilled everything that he needed to so that he could be released. That took two years, Sherlock eventually giving in so that he could finally get a job linking with Scotland Yard.

The memories of rehab burned Sherlock's mind. He wish that he could delete them like they were nothing of importance, but his Mind Palace wouldn't allow him to let them go. He was stuck with the memories of being strapped down and tortured with the words of the doctors. After remembering and slamming his fist against the wall until blood dripped from each knuckle, Sherlock curled up into a ball and allowed himself to sleep.

* "I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you." Jim Moriarty looked at Sherlock, his hands in his pockets. Sherlock's hands still remained tightly on the gun that still pointed in the direction of the middle of Moriarty's eyes. Moriarty then walked towards John, grabbing him around the neck. This wasn't how it went?! Pulling a knife from inside his suit, Moriarty said to Sherlock. "How would you feel if precious little Johnny boy here died by my hand. Right here. Right now." However, Sherlock didn't get a chance to answer. John's blood started to pour from his throat all down the coat, all over the bomb and all over Jim Moriarty's hands. Sherlock tried to move forward but one of the rifles sent a warning shot towards his leg.

"No! This isn't how it's supposed to go... You leave!" Moriarty laughed harder and harder as Sherlock was forced to watch John's life leave him. "Please." Sherlock dropped the gun onto the ground, which was followed by him also dropping.

"Oh it's not over yet, Sherlock." Moriarty made a signal with his hand, meaning that two men entered the pool with them. One carried an axe. He walked forward to John and started to chop. Sherlock tried to push himself forward towards his friend, but the other man stood holding him back.

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs. "Stop this, please! This never happened" He shut his eyes for a moment to stop himself from seeing his friend being torn apart by the axe, only to open them and find that he was on top of Bart's Hospital in the face-down with Moriarty. He was standing on the edge watching as the World turned, his mind trying to find a way out of this. A way. Any way. He then broke into laughter. Moriarty stopped and turned back to him as he continued to laugh on the edge of his death.

"What?" Sherlock walked towards Moriarty, as Moriarty too walked towards Sherlock. "Oh look, there's John." Sherlock jerked his head to look at John, he'd arrived earlier than he should have done. "If he enters the building, he will be killed, Sherlock. Unless you jump." Sherlock didn't waste a second, he knew that this wasn't how it truly went but he'd do anything to stop John from dying. He ran for the edge throwing himself off. As he approached the bottom he could see John's face watching as he hit the ground. Hard.

"John..." Sherlock managed to mumble before he heard a gun shot. John fell to the ground, clutching his chest. There was blood seeping through his hand. He'd been shot. Suddenly, the light started to dim, someone was standing over him, the shadow stopping the light.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Sherlock? Miss Hooper helping you, is she? Shame." Moriarty turned Sherlock over so that he could see him. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, but John is dead. You can't die and neither will I. You'll have to live on with the pain." He started to walk away before turning back to Sherlock, who was almost in tears, and saying, "Oh. Mrs Hudson, Greg Lestrade and Molly Hooper send their love. Unfortunately for them, that was their last breath." His smile was evil, making sure that it imprinted in Sherlock's mind. He walked away leaving Sherlock and John on the ground. John, himself, had seemed to move closer to Sherlock, he was now laying right beside him.

"Please! STOP THIS!" Sherlock shouted into his friend's ear, but with no response. John was dead. Mrs Hudson was dead. Lestrade was dead. Molly was dead. To Sherlock there was no point in living any more. He saw John's gun in his pocket and reached for it. Putting the barrel into his mouth, he let out one last sigh and fired the gun... *

"John!" Sherlock awoke from his nightmare thrown half way across the room from where he was before. He was sweating uncontrollably, his hair wet from where it had been pressed against his soaking forehead. He tried to wipe away as much of the sweat as he could as he stood up. His eyes met with his elder brother's, Mycroft had still been watching him.

"Was that your first three minutes of sleep in the last two and a half weeks, Sherlock?" Mycroft scowled at his brother as Sherlock turned away from him. "You didn't reply to my text." He said to him as he went to pick up Sherlock's phone from the floor. "It still works, you could have replied." Sherlock rolled his eyes at his brother's attitude, he tied his scarf around his neck and placed his coat on his shoulders.

"What are you doing here, Mycroft? You never come to talk to me in person, especially when I make quite clear that I prefer to-"

"Text, yes I know. You've got three new messages. Everyone is looking for you, everyone except John-"

"Piss off, Mycroft." Sherlock yelled at him before snatching the phone out of his hands and strolling back to the reception area. All four of the others in the group looked at Sherlock weirdly. His hair was still wet with sweat and he was clearly suffering from no sleep. Bags under his eyes managed not to appear before, but now that they had, Sherlock couldn't get away from them. "What are you all staring at?" He asked them, unconscious to the fact that his eyes were still red from were he'd been crying. John shuffled slightly, noticing the redness in his eyes, he knew that it could only have been one thing that made him cry. John rejecting him as his friend from this day forward. When the group started to walk for the entrance, John tried to pull Sherlock aside so that he could talk to him. Sherlock, on the other hand, didn't want to talk about it, so he shrugged John's hand off of his shoulder and continued to walk towards the cars.

"Are you going to take a taxi, or do you want to come in the car?" Lestrade asked them all when they made it to the police car that waited outside for them. Molly didn't answer verbally, she pulled the back door nearest to her open and stepped into the car, making sure she slammed the door behind her.

"I'll be safer with you Detective Inspector." Irene Adler spoke as she too stepped into the car. She knew that a London taxi wouldn't be the best mode of transport for her to use, so she opted for the safest option. John turned his head to Sherlock to wait for his answer, but he was no longer standing with the group. He saw him get into a taxi down the street. John sighed and got into the front of the car with Lestrade, what had he done to Sherlock now. The car sped away from Scotland Yard, Sherlock's taxi following.

"So, this is where the first body was found?" John asked as they made their way into the first toilet on the train. He had ignored everyone of Sherlock's comments as they arrived into the train. But now he was expecting one worse than all the others.

"John. If you're not going to say anything useful, I suggest that you either close your mouth so that the rest of us don't have to put up with your bullshit, or you leave" Sherlock paused and looked at everyone around him. "I suggest the latter." Every single pair of eyes where on him and opened wide. John looked Sherlock up and down, before turning from the group and leaving the carriage.

"John." Lestrade tried to grab for his arm in order to stop him from leaving, however John just brushed him away. While the other three watched him leave, Sherlock continued looking around the toilet. John wouldn't distract him from his work.

"I need some air." John sounded truly angry at Sherlock, how could he say something like that? He could obviously turn any friendship that they had off in order to fulfil what John had sent him the day before. "God." John mumbled to himself as he continued to walk down the platform.

"Can you hear crying?" Molly asked Sherlock as she walked down the carriage slightly to inspect the noise.

"It's probably just John." Irene replied to Molly, she too could hear the crying. It wasn't adult crying, it was much louder and much more hungry and alone.

"No. It's, well it sounds like a baby." Molly started to run for the next carriage with Lestrade swiftly. Irene and Sherlock both rolled their eyes, but then followed too. Lestrade dialled a number on his mobile and started to phone someone.

"John, we need you back on the train, right now!" Lestrade practically shouted down the phone. He knew that John wouldn't be easy to persuade, so he told John the truth. "We've found a baby."

There you go. Let me know what you want the baby to be and called. I have a few ideas because I'm going to have 'it' talking, so. Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoyed that twist. Until next weekend. :)