Caution: Violence/Gore

The cab finally came to rest outside a block of flats. There was police tape around an area of the sidewalk and several police cars and forensics people around the area. "Well, I guess that this is it" John said as he began to climb out of the cab. When he turned around he saw that Sherlock was not out of the car. He ducked his head back inside the cab and his alarm took on new levels when he saw Sherlock hunched down, arms on his knees staring at the floor of the cab as he muttered to himself. No, talking to himself wasn't even really the correct term for it; rather, he was talking to someone that wasn't there. John couldn't hear what he was saying, but he would mutter to himself for a moment, gesturing to someone that wasn't there, pause and then resume speaking. He has a dark look in his eye and he would twitch every so often.

"Sherlock?" John asked cautiously.

"What?!" Sherlock asked angrily, turning towards John as if he had interrupted someone. "What do you want?"

"Uh….the crime scene" John said as he gestured toward the forensics tape. "We're here. But maybe we should just leave…."

"Why would we?" Sherlock asked as if John stupid, sighing heavily as he got out of the car. He took off quickly and Lestrade was already briefing Sherlock on the case by the time that he caught up with him. "We're running the names off the IDs but we don't know a whole lot about the victims yet. They were found like by another tenant 20 minutes ago just as they are. No witnesses have been found" Greg was saying to Sherlock as he walked up.

There were two bodies lying on the ground, two men who had obvious deep wounds to their chest. The first body had several stab wounds while the second had only two, with a knife still plunged into the area where the victim's heart should be. John was just beginning to make generalizations about how this suggested either extreme stupidity on the part of the killer or the fact that they got interrupted when he noticed Sherlock crouching down to study the victim. Sherlock was looking at the victim who still had the knife protruding from his heart, so John began to look over the other victim.

The man was young, twenty at the most, skinny but in shape, not the type that should have gone down without a fight, especially with a friend. He had stab wounds to the left shoulder and three to the chest on near the ribs on the left and right side. Blood was pooling around the victim, suggesting he had fallen back and had not been moved.

John had made all of these assumptions in a matter of less than a minute; he looked over at Sherlock, "So, what do you notice?" he asked offhand.

John regretted it the second that he asked. He looked over to see Sherlock hunched over the body, pale and sweaty, hands shaking as he stared at the victim with a confused expression on his face. He was breathing heavy, short breaths almost as if he was going to hyperventilate.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asked.

Sherlock didn't answer and John wasn't surprised; he was in his own head. He was staring at the body as if completely lost, his breathing getting faster and faster.

"Sherlock…." John said quietly as he reached out and put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

Big mistake.

Sherlock put his hands over his the back of his head, pulling at his hair as he began to rock back and forth. His breathing was almost wheezy now and John noticed people were being to stare.

"Hey, Sherlock, calm down" John whispered to the detective but it was no use. Sherlock was completely unresponsive; he began to mutter to himself again as he had in the car and John was trying to figure out the best way to get Sherlock out of here but since Sherlock wouldn't even let him touch him he was wasn't sure how he was to drag him towards the cab.

John was beginning to become alarmed at the amount of attention that Sherlock was getting. It seemed that most people had stopped what they were doing and were now openly staring at Sherlock. Sally was making open jokes to Anderson and the two were laughing. John felt anger rising in him; everyone was looking at Sherlock like he was a freak and he was sure that that's what they thought he was. But John knew that wasn't true; something had happened to his friend that had damaged him deeply and John resented anyone who was trying to add to the pain that Sherlock already felt.

Sally was not far from Sherlock and John could hear what she was saying. " Always knew he was a freak….now he's finally proving it. Need to put him in the loony bin with the rest of the nutters"

"Why don't you just shut the hell up Sally?" John asked angrily, crouching down close to Sherlock, as close as he could be without touching him. Sherlock's eyes were clenched shut as if he was trying to prevent seeing something that was painful and his hands were clenched over his ears but John was sure that he could hear what was going on. His lips were moving as if talking but John could no longer hear anything coming from his mouth.

"Really John you should keep a leash on him, get him out here" Sally sneered as Anderson laughed.

"Shut up!" John shouted at Sally. He turned toward Sherlock. "Sherlock, don't listen to them. Come on, lets just leave….come on" he prodded. But Sherlock was gone.

His breathing getting heavier, his rocking getting faster, muttering under his breath…..it kept getting worse as Sally continued her taunts and people stared and whispered. It was horrible; John felt powerless. Sherlock wouldn't move, wouldn't let him touch him, didn't appear to hear hm.

John just sat and watched him, eyes clenched closed away from the world. And then it happened…..

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and John could see instantly that Sherlock was gone. His eyes were dark, clouded, anger filling his face as he scowled. What happened next was so quick that John wasn't even sure he could remember the events correctly.

In a second, Sherlock pulled the knife from the body in front of him, whipping around as he shot up and lunged at Sally. John couldn't even see what had happened as Sherlock grabbed Sally and his view was blocked by Sherlock's body, until Sally fell back, three large stab wounds to her chest, bleeding profusely. She made a horrible screaming, gasping noise as she fell back onto the pavement, her blood quickly becoming a puddle around her body. John was stunned and felt all the air be sucked out of his lungs as he watched her gasping. John didn't even have time to process what had happened and think how to act before Sherlock ran at Anderson. He grabbed Anderson roughly by the arm and he stabbed Anderson on the shoulder, blood spraying out of the deep wound. Anderson grabbed Sherlock with his other arm, trying to fight back, despite the wound that was causing him to slowly lose his strength. His fight seemed to anger Sherlock even further as he made a low, almost animalistic sound as he bent Anderson's arm back as he smashed his head into Anderson's. He fell back, hitting his head on the stoop of the flat, making a sickly cracking sound as he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

At this point, everyone else in the vicinity had begun to panic; people were running in the other direction, screaming, yelling at Sherlock to stop. John was frozen; he couldn't believe that what he was seeing was real. He knew he should move but his legs wouldn't obey their command to move.

John watched as two of the men from the forensics team lunged at Sherlock in an effort to stop him. They each grabbed one of his arms and pinned him against the side of the build, trying to pull the knife from his hand. But Sherlock wasn't going down; he screamed out angrily, the darkness in his eyes smoldering, hurting John to look at. He pushed against the two men with surprising force pushing them back and getting free. He slashed at the face of the first man that went back to stop him; he screamed in pain as he fell back, clutching his face. The second man tried to come around Sherlock's back side but Sherlock saw that coming as well; Sherlock whipped around, grabbing the man's arm, twisting it back until it made a horrible cracking sound and he screamed. Sherlock whipped around and stabbed him in the chest before throwing him back.

John's mouth hung open and he didn't know how long it had been since he had breathed. His lungs burned and he felt horror as he took in the bodies that littered the ground. The screaming, the blood….and Sherlock had done it. Sherlock.

"Sherlock! Stop!" John called out as his body finally regained the ability to move. He ran toward Sherlock. Up close, John had to admit that he felt fear. Sherlock looked scary, not himself. His eyes were black and angry, his face contorted in a mask of rage. Blood spattered his clothes and face from his victims. He looked down at John but there was no recognition there. It was like he didn't even know who John was…..or who anyone else was.

"Sherlock, you have to stop" John begged. He looked up at the face of his flat mate, hoping for something, anything. He didn't touch him or grab him for fear of setting him off. "I know you're in there somewhere Sherlock"

Sherlock stopped and looked at John; not like he knew him, but he did stop and look. He still had the hate filled eyes and expression but John still hoped that Sherlock was connecting to him in some way. He was so busy looking into his eyes that he was still looking into Sherlock's eyes when he felt a sharp pain flash through his shoulder and Sherlock pushed past him. John fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder in shock, pain, anguish. He let himself fall completely to the ground but turned so that he could see Sherlock run off. John put his hand to his shoulder as blood gushed freely through his fingers. He stabbed me; how could he? All manner of hurtful thoughts and feelings passed through him in the one second that he let himself think about what had happened.

A second later his thoughts were only on Sherlock and what he was going through; as Sherlock took off, away from the others this time, he was followed by least five or six of the forensics team. John felt a muffled scream in his throat as he watched the men come up behind Sherlock and tackle him to the ground. As Sherlock hit the pavement he cried out in pain which turned quickly into a scream as the men wrestled the knife out of his hand.

John's vision was getting hazy as he watched the men holding Sherlock down, Lestrade rushing up to the group. John was horrified as he saw Lestrade putting handcuffs on Sherlock. No, this was a mistake…..

John tried to speak but nothing came out. He was aware that his shirt was very wet with blood as his vision blurred altogether and he felt himself drift off to unconsciousness.

Oh dear...Sherlock had really gotten into a mess. What will John do? Can he do anything?