Thank you all so much for your wonderful feed back with this story! I'm sorry it took me a while to get this chapter out! Stupid work getting in the way of Johnlock!

I apologize for any mistakes and I hope you all enjoy :)

Part 6

"Sir, they've found another body," Sally said.

Greg looked up from the notes that had now spanned across his entire desk. He had spent all of yesterday looking through the notes, looking for some kind of connection only to come up short. He had abandoned his notes when Mycroft had called telling him he was out front and gone to have a wonderful (and well earned) dinner with his soul mate.

"You're frustrated," Mycroft had said once they had finished their meal.

Greg looked up a tad sheepishly. "That obvious huh?"

"You're frustrated by your murders," Mycroft said.

"That's the thing," Greg said. "I can't connect that they are murders and I know you and Sherlock already know that they're murders but I need the proof, the evidence to show my superiors and evidence to pin it on a bloody person so I can arrest them!"

He had run a hand down his face and moaned softly before slumping back into his seat. "Alright, let's hear your theories."

Mycroft had stood, smoothing his jacket as he did. "I'll have them sent to your office in the morning. Come." He held out his hand and Greg took it and allowed himself to pulled up. "Let's go home."

Then Mycroft had made it so he remembered nothing but viscous moans of pleasure.

"Where's the body?" Lestrade asked Sally, brining himself back to the present.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens," Sally said.

Greg stood, grabbing his badge and gun from his draw before shrugging on his jacket. He swiped his keys off the table and followed Sally out of his office.

Sherlock saw John approaching his (hopefully their) apartment and quickly made the cabdriver stop. He paid the man and all but leapt onto the sidewalk.

"Morning," John said, smiling nervously at Sherlock.

"Good morning, John," Sherlock said. He reached out and knocked on the door before stepping back and letting his gaze roam over his soul mate, picking up every little detail that he could.

Before an awkward silence could settle over them, Mrs. Hudson opened the door and greeted them warmly before ushering them in.

Sherlock led the way in, shrugging out of his coat and scarf.

"Nice. Very nice," John commented and Sherlock smiled, pleased that John could see the potential. "Once we clear all this stuff out it could be very nice."

"Oh," Sherlock frowned and then cleared his throat. "Well, yes, I could clean up a little." He grabbed a few letters and then stabbed them with a knife, looking for John's reaction. He would never admit that he had been nervous about seeing John today. He hadn't told Mycroft or Lestrade, not until he was sure that John was the real deal.

"I looked you up last night," John said, making himself comfortable in the armchair. "The Science of Deduction."

"And?" Sherlock asked.

"That's what you did with me yesterday? Wasn't it?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. The same way I could tell a man was a pilot by his thumb and that you have a brother whose an alcoholic and is having trouble with his wife and is trying to make an effort to be in your life since you have returned from service."

John blinked. "How could you possibly know about the drinking?"

Sherlock smirked. "A shot in the dark but a good once. Your phone has an inscription on the back To Harry, Love Clara xxx. Three kisses, obviously his partner, most likely soul mates. But he is giving the phone to you, obviously some troubles between the two of them. Scratch marks on the phone from where they have been put in his pocket with his keys and around the charging port. You never see a drunks without them."

"That was incredible," John said.

"You think?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Yes, that was extraordinary," John nodded firmly.

"That's not what people normally say," Sherlock said.

"And what do people normally say?"

"Piss off."

"Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson admonished but she was smiling. "Look at you two. Do you think you'll be needing the extra room upstairs?"

John swallowed and Sherlock's cheeks went pink and he spun around to face the window.

"Uh, yes, for the time being," John said and Sherlock breath hitched. He hadn't really thought of what would happen if he found John. Really he should have put more thought into it and he briefly was starting to panic. He didn't have friends and all his life people assumed he didn't have a soul mate. How could he when he claimed to be a high functioning sociopath?

"Sherlock?" John's voice was suddenly closer and Sherlock whirled around to find the solider a few paces away and Mrs. Hudson descending the stairs.

"Sorry, you were saying?" Sherlock swallowed.

"It's okay," John said, shifting his weight as his leg gave a twinge of pain.

Sherlock understood what John was saying. He could see the nerves in John even though he was trying to hide it. But Sherlock saw everything and for the first time in his life he desperately didn't want to fuck up.

"I'm afraid I am out of my depth," Sherlock admitted. He glanced at the door again and crossed to it, shutting it quietly. No doubt Mrs. Hudson had already worked out who exactly John was and Sherlock didn't need her gossiping ear listening in on what was already an uncomfortable moment.

"Me too," John said. He ran a hand through his short blonde hair. "To be honest, for a long time I didn't want to find you."

Sherlock lifted his chin, eyes narrowing briefly. What he saw made his jaw clench and an anger he hadn't known for anyone other than Mycroft well up inside him. He had never had the urge to defend someone he had just met but the idea of someone harming his soul mate – the one thing he had been looking forward to in his life filled him with such a rage he wasn't sure whether he wanted to hug John or pummel the vile humans who ever hurt him.

"What did your father do?" Sherlock growled through gritted teeth. He stepped closer to John and was pleased that the man didn't flinch with his advances.

"He tried to wash your name from my head," John said.

Sherlock gritted his teeth. "He tried to drown you."

John pursed his lips and nodded once.

"What changed?" Sherlock demanded. "Why did you want to find me now? You did want to find me, didn't you?"

"Yes, I wanted to find you," John nodded. "I changed because I got shot. I was going to die and I hadn't met you. What an absolute waste that would have been."

Sherlock swallowed heavily, mind coming to screeching halt. "You really think that?"

"You're not told that often, are you?" John asked.

It was amazing how in such a short amount of time the two had found it so easily to read each other. They really were soul mates; there was no denying it.

Pounding footsteps on the stairs made them both turn to the door and Sherlock silently cursed Lestrade's unfortunate timing. He would have to work on that in the future so that the man would not interrupt him and John in such important moments like now.

"There's been a fourth," Sherlock said in a way of greeting. "What's different? You wouldn't have come if this one wasn't different."

"You know how they never leave notes?" Greg said. "Well, this one did."

Sherlock nodded. "I'll follow. Where is it?"

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens," Greg said. His eyes flickered over to John, scrunching in confusion.

"I'll be along shortly," Sherlock dismissed.

Greg's shoulder slumped and he nodded before turning and walking back out again.

"What was that about?" John asked.

"I work with the police when they are stumped," Sherlock said. "Consulting Detective, only one in the world."

"Was he talking about those suicides?" John asked.

"Murders," Sherlock murmured. "You were a doctor. An army doctor. Any good?"

"Yes. Very good," John said.

"Seen a lot of violent deaths, no doubt."

"Enough for a life time," John said.

"Want to see some more?"

"God yes," John all but breathed out.

Sherlock grinned. It was instrumental that John be apart of his work and yes, he could see them together now. They would be brilliant.

"Freak's here, brining him in," Sally voice crackled over the radio.

Greg glared at the radio. He really needed Sally to stop being childish and her constant bullying of Sherlock was going to cause irreversible damage if he couldn't put a stop to it now. He made is way down the winding staircase and when he reached the bottom he caught the tail end of Sherlock ripping into Sally's dalliance with Anderson.

"Sherlock," Greg greeted. "Thanks for coming." Movement over Sherlock's shoulder caught his attention. It took him a moment to recognize the man as the same one at Sherlock's flat. "Whose he?"

"He's with me," Sherlock said.

"Yes, but who is he?" Greg asked.

Sherlock handed the man a blue suit, the same that Greg was currently wearing. "Think, Lestrade."

"Sherlock, are you sure I should be here?" the man asked.

"Yes, John. Put that on."

John. Greg's breath stuck in his throat and he could feel his eyes widening. Mycroft had let it slip a year ago the name of Sherlock's soul mate and Greg had vowed to keep his eyes and ears open (quietly of course so neither Holmes brother would know) for any John and determine if they had Sherlock's name.

Dumbly he followed the two up the stairs, eyes never straying from John's. The man was nothing special. He looked ordinary, nothing that should have attracted a Holmes attention. Just like Greg. No wonder the two of them had flown under their radar for so long.

The room was lit up with artificial lamps and the pink body was a stark contrast to the decaying of the building. Still Greg could not keep his eyes off John.

"What do you think, John?" Sherlock asked after he had danced around the victim.

"Of the dead body?" John asked.

"Perfectly sound analysis but I was hoping you would go a little deeper," Sherlock said.

Greg tried not to laugh. He had never seen Sherlock so patient with someone. Anyone else and Sherlock would have been demanding to see their qualifications and threatening to hunt down those who had allowed them to pass. He watched as John crouched down by the body and examine the pink woman's hands before leaning in and smelling her mouth.

Then in an instant Sherlock was dashing off, running down the stairs shouting PINK and was gone leaving Greg with John.

"Don't worry, he get's like that," Greg assured him. "Greg Lestrade."

"John Watson," and he offered his hand to Greg.

Greg shook it and gestured for him to follow out while the forensic team descended on the body once again.

"Nice to meet you," Greg said as the started down the stairs. "Don't mind Sherlock running off. It's hard to keep him still when he's struck with a clue."

"You know Sherlock well?" John asked, his cane tapping with each step.

"Known and worked with him for three years," Greg said. "I am his brother's soul mate."

John nearly missed a step but recovered himself quickly. "Mycroft right? Sherlock said something about a wager?"

Greg shook his head. "Yeah. Made it when they were kids. Mycroft still hasn't collected on it yet. I think he might have been waiting until you and Sherlock found each other. Which, by the way, I am very happy that you have."

John started to flush and Greg pretended not to have noticed. "Yeah, I am too."

They reached the bottom of the stairs and when John was clear of his blue suit he gestured to the door. "I'll find you a taxi. Take you back to Baker Street."

"That's okay," John said. "Just, point me in the direction of the main street."

"Sure," Greg said. "Just down that way."

"Nice to meet you, Greg," John nodded and limped past his officers and down the street.

Greg pulled out his phone and hit his speed dial number one. Mycroft answered almost immediately.

"Don't even think about kidnapping him," Greg warned as a greeting.

"You know as well as I do that Sherlock will wait as long as possible to introduce me," Mycroft said.

"You're a wonderful older brother," Greg said. "You're also an idiot. Don't do it."

"I'll be home late tonight," Mycroft said. "I'm glad you brought Sherlock on the case."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Nice deflection. Try not to terrify John, Sherlock will never forgive you."

Mycroft hummed. "He's a solider. Interesting."

"Creep," Greg said fondly. "I'll talk to you later."

"Goodbye, Greg."

Greg hung up and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

Mycroft had of course pictured what John would be like ever since Sherlock had first spoken his name when they were children. As Sherlock grew and changed so had his mental image of John until Mycroft unwillingly admitted that he had no idea what he would look like.

The man before him looked nothing special and in the eyes of a Holmes looked ordinary. But as Mycroft begun to not interrogate he was beginning to see that John was quite the opposite. The solider in him was evident and the way he already stuck up for Sherlock, something that Mycroft had not seen in anybody.

Yes, John was utterly perfect for Sherlock and his brother would provide the level of danger and excitement that John so desperately wanted.

"I knew you couldn't help yourself," Sherlock sneered, crossing the abandoned garage, looking formidable in his long coat.

"Don't be so dramatic, Sherlock," Mycroft drawled.

"I'm being dramatic?" Sherlock scoffed. "You're the one whose kidnapping John."

"I didn't kidnap him," Mycroft said. "We were merely having a chat."

John looked between the two brothers. "Oh, shit. You're Mycroft, aren't you?"

"Indeed," Mycroft inclined his head.

"Come on, John," Sherlock said. "I've found the case."

"What case?" John frowned.

"The woman's case," Sherlock said. "Our killer made a mistake. We're going to dinner."

"Yeah, right. Dinner," John blinked. He looked at Mycroft again. "Right."

Mycroft merely smirked as Sherlock slowed his stride for John and the two disappeared into the night. Yes, they were utterly perfect for one another.

There will be ONE more chapter! Happy reading :)