Disclaimer: A somehow mildly violent scene below…

The few pedestrians who walked by would only glance at them briefly. The man, and the child were standing in front of the house. The house. It was the house where the crime of the decade in this small neighbourhood occurred. It was rumored to be haunted. The neighbors, the nice elderly widow thought he heard some voice. Screams, with red and black.

The two must be crazy, especially the tall man. The pedestrians didn't want to meddle.

Of course, the tall man, Sherlock, was not crazy. A bit sociopathic, yes. Clever, yes. But not crazy. He knew what he was doing.

Sherlock took a step forward, as John recoiled, grasping the hand he was holding a little more tightly.

"I've been here before…" John's eyes were wary.

"I don't like it." John then declared.

Sherlock turned around and knelt in front of John.

"It's going to be ok" Sherlock promised, "I'm right here. But you need to tell me everything, ok?"

John nodded, and reluctantly stepped inside the gate.

~break~

John was quietly whimpering to himself. His knuckles were white with the force he was using to clutch to his jumper.

Sherlock watched as John slowly moved around the living room, touching the dusty white fabrics that covered the furniture. He wanted John to get comfortable in this environment before moving on to the next step of this investigation.

Sherlock sat down on the ground, putting his violin case next to him. John noticed and came over. He pointed to the violin.

"What's that, Sherlock?"

"Violin."

"What's that?"

"It's something that you can play."

"Can I play it with you?"

Sherlock smiled. "No, I'm afraid not, John."

Seeing John pout, Sherlock's smile quickly turned upside down.

Smoothly, he added another comment: "But I can play it for you."

John, still slightly confused, sat in front of Sherlock, watching him as he slid the violin gently out of his crib.

Putting the violin on his shoulders, he held the bow ready as he debated about which violin piece to play. In the end, he settled for a concerto by Beethoven. The short and lively one.

Rich music came out from the instrument, so beautiful and so inviting… Sherlock took a peek at the child, and found him gaping. Smiling wider, Sherlock continued preforming flawlessly, until he reached the end, and finished with a graceful flourish.

John laughed, and clapped. Sherlock looked closely at John. His back was slightly straighter now, meaning that he was in a more relaxed manner. His veins in his neck weren't visible anymore.

It was time for the next part.

Sherlock put the violin back into the case, leaving it unlocked. H reached over and took John's hand, pulling him up into a standing position. While walking over to the stairs, Sherlock's pinky moved to John's tiny wrist, where Sherlock could easily take his heartbeat.

Thump…Thump…Thump…

His heartbeat was steady. Good. John was fully comfortable in this house now.

Sherlock stopped in front of the door, which led to the small storeroom under the stairs.

Sherlock squatted, so he was eyelevel with John. Sensing the seriousness of this moment, John paid attention.

"John, this is the moment that I told you about. I need you to tell me everything. Everything. You understand?"

John nodded: "Just like heroes did," John thought back, "You said that."

Sherlock nodded. He stood up and opened the door. He led John inside and seated him onto a dusty box.

"I'm going to come and get you in a minute. Tell me what you see and what you hear." Sherlock waited for John's nod of approval before closing the door quietly.

Sherlock got small tin cans from his violin case, and set them apart on the ground in front of him.

Moving as quietly as possible, he took a voice recorder out and a pistol. Adjusting the Bluetooth in his ear, he clicked the 'play' button on the voice recorder, and shouts and screams filled the room. As they got louder, Sherlock heard John crying, projected into his ear by his Bluetooth. As the recording neared the middle, Sherlock took the pistol and fired 3 shots at the cans. With perfect aim, the bullets hit the cans, causing a deafening BANG! BANG! BANG! After he finished, Sherlock stopped the recording. Sherlock made his way to the nearest door, making a show of opening it, and slamming it closed.

Not daring to breathe, Sherlock tiptoed his way back to the staircase. He could hear John's ragged breathing in his ear. As his hands were starting to turn the doorknob, a scream emitted from the inside.

Taken aback by the sudden noise in his ear, Sherlock ripped the Bluetooth out. John was still screaming, a high-pitched, eerie sound that made Sherlock shiver.

After a solid 40 seconds of screaming (John's lungs sure are strong), he started to roar.

"MOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY"

"DADDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYY"

"MOMMYDADDYWHEREAREYOU"

"MOMM-"

Then John broke into a torrent of tears.

The door rattled, and Sherlock remembered that he had locked the door.

Was I supposed to?

The police found him asleep in the room. So, yes, the door should be locked.

Fearing for John, Sherlock lunged for the door and nimbly unlocked it. John fell into his arms, kicking, screaming, and crying.

Sherlock pulled the frightened child into a awkward embrace. Not knowing what to do, Sherlock made 'shhh'-ing noises into John's ear, and slowly patted John's shaking back.

Suddenly, the front door started to rattle violently.

What the hell?

The door burst open, revealing a team of police officers in bulletproof vests and guns.

"Police! Drop your weapons!" The police separated for the leader to move in.

Sherlock looked up.

"Well, I hardly think that a crying child is a legitimate weapon, Captain."

"Drop the child!" The captain ordered.

Sherlock only tightened his grip around John.

"No," He retorted stubbornly, "He's afraid. Can't you see it?"

The captain ignored him, and signaled his men to surround him, guns pointed at Sherlock's head.

"I said, drop. The. Child." The captain repeated.

Sherlock only raised an eyebrow.

The captain, equally calm as Sherlock, ordered his men to grab the child.

Sherlock immediately started to protest: "I'm sorry, grab the child? Really? GRAB is the word you're going to use? It's a human being you're talking about. How about RETRIEVE? And are you really going to separate us, because he just started to calm down a bit…"

Sherlock stopped when he felt handcuffs tighten around his wrists.

John, now scrambling in the air, started to bawl loudly again.

One of the officers carried him out, settled him into a police car, and drove out.

"Where are you taking John? Where is he going?" The captain fell oblivious to Sherlock's question, and proceeded with the formalities.

"You have the right to remain silent…"

The captain's speech bored Sherlock, so he toned down the Captain's voice.

It wasn't until Sherlock heard the words "police station", where he tuned the voice up again.

Sherlock straightened up, dignity replaced, and with a smug look on.

"Very well, I shall go to the police station with you."

Sherlock smiled.

"But be careful Captain, I have strong allies there."

Ally, actually. But who'll notice.

The police officers snorted.

"Of course you do…" They said as they led Sherlock out and lowered him into the police car.

Author's Note:

Hello! HAPPY LATE NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I hope 2014 will bring us a lot more stories, happiness, and fun! :)

Hope you liked this chapter, please leave a review! I haven't had any reviews lately, and it's tearing my heart into shreds. If you're too lazy to write anything constructive, how about leaving a rating? Leave a number between 0-10. 0 as in THAT IS THE WORST THING I HAVE EVER READ DELETE IT, and 10 as in THAT IS THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER HAVE YOU NOTIFIED MOFFAT OF THIS YET.

See you all soon!