After every doubt about killing people together with his flat mate had been removed from his mind, he had just been waiting around for a notice from Sherlock that tonight was the night. It was five days since the night John had found out about Sherlock's hobby. But he knew that a few more days could pass before Sherlock would have to go again. Apparently killing someone kept him going longer than a case could. Sherlock also had a few experiments going. They all involved body parts and John had his suspicions that they all came from his last couple of victims.
This made John slightly nervous. What if some people found Sherlock's hidden body-parts around the flat? What if they clever people? What if they knew about the different murders? There were so many 'what ifs'. John had mentioned it to his flat mate. But it seemed as if he liked the thrill of the possibility of getting caught. John guessed that that was what kept him going. Sherlock could easily go a week without doing too many insane things, like shooting a wall, just because of the excitement of possibly getting caught by the police. John was also kept excited by the sheer thought of someone finding out about him keeping Sherlock's secret and his wish to join in.
"John!" a shout ripped John from his thoughts. "John, it is time. Are you ready for this?" In front of John stood a very excited Sherlock.
"Oh God yes!" John jumped up from his chair in the living room and grabbed his coat.
They sneaked down the stairs. They had no intention of waking Mrs. Hudson. She definitely wouldn't approve of what they were doing tonight. Sherlock took his long strides down the street, while John was trying to keep up just like it had always been. This was the first time in over three years John was helping Sherlock out with his "work". This thought almost made John skip and dance down the street in pure bliss.
"Where are we going exactly?" John had wondered whether his friend actually had chosen all his victims beforehand or if he normally just stumbled upon random people. He tended to lean towards the latter. The first option didn't seem likely. Sure, he could have been looking into the life of a certain person. But then again, where would he have met his victim? John had never seen him stalking anyone. He never went outside other than when he was going out to kill or when John forced him to come along for a walk. During those walks John had to suffer through his friend's deductions about people around them. Well, suffer wasn't exactly the right word. Especially since it helped lighten up their walks. And it was quite enjoyable walking by his friend. It also helped reminding him that his friend was back for good. Yes, it had been six months since Sherlock's return but that didn't mean John was used to his presence in his life. That was probably how it would continue to be for quite some time. But if Sherlock just kept sticking around, he would probably get used to him over time.
"Don't know just yet." Sherlock said, while he kept walking. "But I'm sure we find some place that will be just perfect. There are lots of people in London that walk around alone at night. We will have to find a secluded area, but also a place where people still walk by."
John just nodded even though Sherlock probably couldn't see it in the dark. They kept on strolling down the streets for a while. In the end Sherlock settled on a park. He claimed there would at least be a couple of people to walk home from their jobs or from pubs and so on. John just agreed. He wouldn't have felt comfortable walking home alone through a dark and secluded park. Not unless he carried his gun. Which he rarely did. But then again some people never saw it as a possibility for themselves to be attacked in a park. That was mostly something that happened on the telly or to other people.
They hid behind a group of trees and bushes beside the path way. John's heart was beating fast. He had never done anything like this before. It almost felt surreal. But it also excited him immensely.
While they waited for someone to walk by, John's excitement disappeared, though. He began to feel the freezing cold of the night and wondered whether he should have worn a different coat. He sighed and began rubbing his own arms to keep himself warm.
Sherlock noticed this and scooted closer to John. This earned him a baffled look from John. "You are cold. If we sit closer you won't be as cold." Sherlock put his arm around John. This ended up making John even more surprised. He wasn't used to having Sherlock this close. It wasn't that John minded. It was actually quite nice for some reason. Before Sherlock had jumped off of St. Barts he had often been in John's personal space. He hadn't cared much for John's boundaries. But ever since he came back he had kept his distance. Probably because he didn't want John to find out about his hobby and because he understood that John needed space.
But now that Sherlock was sitting in such close proximity it felt really nice. So he just shook his head and smiled.
John was about to fall asleep when they finally heard footsteps in the distance. He rubbed his eyes to wake himself and looked up at Sherlock who sported a slight grin. This made John's heart beat fast again. He could finally feel the adrenaline pumping through him. He also noticed his friend's heart beating too. It was good to know that you weren't the only one this excited.
There were two people walking towards them. It seemed to be two young men on their way home from the pub or somewhere along those lines. They both seemed to be in a good mood, probably slightly intoxicated. John looked up at his flat mate as to ask what the plan was. It had completely slipped his mind to ask how they would be executing this. Sherlock noticed his look and tried to demonstrate to John that they would kill them by strangulation. He also handed him a pair of latex gloves for safety. John quickly understood what it was Sherlock was demonstrating and put the gloves on.
When the men were in reach they both took ahold of one the men. They each pushed a man to the ground and straddled him with their hands wrapped around his neck. John noticed the terrified look on his young man's face. Was it because he at the moment couldn't breathe? Or was it because of the sinister smile that John was sporting at the moment? John assumed that both were at fault for the terrified look. Beside him he heard Sherlock laughing a bit. This made John's smile grow and he couldn't help but giggle a little. The young man, he was currently trying to kill, had stopped moving but still seemed to be alive. Sure, he should, as a doctor, be able to tell whether someone was alive. But he couldn't really put his head around that at the moment. Sherlock was standing up. Most likely because he had killed his man.
"I believe he is dead, John." John looked up a bit confused. "He couldn't have survived 10 minutes with you strangling him."
Sherlock couldn't help but smile. This was perfect. John had been completely gone on the high of killing. That settled it. John would be the perfect assistant. This meant that he wouldn't have to even think about killing John. Not while John was as excited about this as he was. He could feel warmth spread through his body. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to kill his beloved John. So hopefully it would never come to that.
They headed home in the least suspicious way. John could still feel his heart beating fast. He hoped he would be able to sleep just a little. He had been called in for work. He would have to meet up the surgery in the morning. He knew that by then he would have come off of his high from murder. So he would probably be about to fall asleep all day at work. But right now he didn't care that much. He was just content walking home with Sherlock Holmes. Home from a crime scene, just like they used to. But only this time, home from their crime scene.
All the way home John could hear Sherlock's heart pounding hard. John couldn't believe you could still be as excited about committing murder after already having killed so many people as Sherlock had. But on the other hand that made John's own future seem brighter. If someone like Sherlock Holmes could be as excited about killing after so long, how many times could he, John Watson, kill before it became trivial? He would probably never tire of it.
They sneaked up the stairs to their shared flat. John wanted to throw out his latex gloves and go straight to bed. But before he had time to get much further than just over the threshold of their flat he was slammed against the wall by his flat mate. And before he had time to register anything a pair of lips crashed against his own. John's mind went blank.