Okay so here it is. This is the end of the a Study in Pink. I'll be posting one more bonus chapter to discuss somethings that are left out. I'll post the first chapter of the Blind Banker soon. And of course transcript from Ariane DeVere. .

Please review. I'm still looking for a title for Blind Banker, and would love to hear any suggestions.

Warning this is unbeta'd so if you see any mistakes please tell me and I'll be happy to fix it.

Disclaimer; I own nothing.

Sherlock sat in the back of an ambulance He had tried to insist that he was fine, but the paramedic had refused to listen. Just then the same man came over placing the bright orange shock blanket that he had just taken off back over his shoulders. Sherlock sighed. He watched Lestrade make his way over the flashing police lights playing on his face.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me." Sherlock complained gesturing to the blanket.

"Yeah, it's for shock."

"I'm not in shock." he protested

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs." Lestrade grinned and Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"So, the shooter. No sign?"

"Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but ..." Lestrade shrugged. "... got nothing to go on." Sherlock looked at his pointedly.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." This time Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"Okay, gimme."

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service ..." Sherlock turned his head catching sight of John standing behind the police tape. John just looked around his hands casually behind his back. " ... and nerves of steel ..." Oh, Sherlock trailed off as John looked

over at him innocently before looking away again. Oh, that's... John. Lestrade started to follow Sherlock gaze, and Sherlock quickly looked back to him.

"Actually, do you know what? Ignore me." Sherlock said before The DI could start to asked questions.

"Sorry?"

"Ignore all of that. It's just the, er, the shock talking." Sherlock started to walk over to John.

"Where're you going?" Lestrade's voiced stopping Sherlock.

"I just need to talk about the-the rent."

"But I've still got questions for you."

"Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" Sherlock said irritated brandishing the sides of the blanket that was still wrapped aroung his shoulders.

"Sherlock!"

"And I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less." Well a dead one, but still. Lestrade considered him thoughtfully.

"Okay. We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go." Sherlock turned walking away missing the smile on Lestrade's face as he watched him go. Sherlock took the blanket from his shoulders as he walked bundling in up as he walked. Sherlock tossed the orange atrocity into the open window of the police car John was standing next to. he ducked under the police tape to stand next to John.

"Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful." Sherlock looked his friend over.

"Good shot." Sherlock whispered.

"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window." John said trying and utterly failing to look innocent.

"Well, you'd know." John looked up at him trying to not let his face give anything away. He failed...again. "Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case." John cleared his throat looking around nervously.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course I'm all right." John said his head snapping back to Sherlock.

"Well, you have just killed a man."

"Yes, I..." Sherlock watched him closely. He didn't know how John would take it. "That's true, innit?" John smiled. Sherlock watched his friend. What was going to happen? This was the first time John had probably fired a gun since being in active service. Sherlock knew knew John, but he didn't know the soldier part of him. What if he changed?

"But he wasn't a very nice man." Sherlock nodded. No, this was his John. John had always been a soldier. It was just that no one had noticed under warm smile and blonde hair.

"No. No, he wasn't really, was he?" Sherlock agreed.

"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie." Sherlock chuckled then turned starting to lead them both away.

"That's true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!" John giggled and Sherlock smiled.

"Stop! Stop, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene! Stop it!" John said still giggling.

"You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me."

"Keep your voice down!" John hissed as Sergeant Donovan walked past them. "Sorry – it's just, um, nerves, I think." John said to Donovan.

"Sorry." Donovan just rolled her eyes walking off. John cleared his throat as they walked off.

"You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?" John asked. Ah, so he had seen that. Sherlock turned back to him.

"Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up." Actually John's appearance had been the last thing on Sherlock's mind at the time. If anything he thought it would be Lestrade.

"No you didn't. It's how you get your kicks. You risk your life to prove you're clever."

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asked.

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock smiled delighted. He forgot just how much John understood him. "Dinner?"

"Starving." They both started walking again. "End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle." As Sherlock spoke a black sedan pulled up behind them and Mycroft stepped out.

"Sherlock, your brother." John sighed, and Sherlock looked up. The detective walked over to his brother staring at his angrily. John glanced around checking where the police where. Last thing they need was them to overhear the brothers' childish fight.

"So, another case cracked. How very public-spirited ... though that's never really your motivation, is it?" Mycroft said pleasantly.

"What are you doing here?"

"As ever, I'm concerned about you."

"Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'." Sherlock spat venomously.

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no!" Sherlock responded sarcastically.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy." Oh, he had to be kidding.

"I upset her? Me?" Mycroft glared at him. "It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft."

"Would you two come on. You sound like three-year old fighting over who was mother's favorite." John shook his head disbelieving at the two.

"It was me." Sherlock grumbled under his breath and John sent him an exasperated look. "Putting on weight again?" Sherlock teased.

"Losing it, in fact." Mycroft countered wrinkling his nose in distaste at his little brother.

"You two are brothers, come on." John reasoned.

"And?" Sherlock muttered, and John shot him a glare. "He's evil."

"For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government."

"He is the British government, when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis." the older brother just sighed.

"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic." Sherlock sneered and walked off. He glanced back to see John talking to Mycroft, but missed what they said. John turned to Mycroft PA... Anthea... this month, right? Her eyes were fixed on her blackberry as usual.

"Hello again." Sherlock was able to make out.

"Hello." Anthea said looking up and smiling at him brightly. He doubted that she even remembered meeting John earlier.

"Yes, we-we met earlier on this evening." She studied him for a minute then reacted like she remembered him. She didn't, obviously.

"Oh!"

"Okay, good night." John said admitting defeat. Sherlock couldn't help but crack a smile. John, still the flirt. Sherlock turned around walking again.

"Good night, Doctor Watson." He could hear his brother call. John caught up to him walking next to him.

"So, dim sum."

"Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies."

"No, you can't." John smirked.

"Almost can. You did get shot, though."

"Sorry?"

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound."

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder."

"Shoulder! I thought so."

"No you didn't."

"The left one."

"Lucky guess."

"I never guess."

"Yes you do." John laughed. He looked at Sherlock how was grinning broadly. "What are you so happy about?"

"Moriarty."

"What's Moriarty?"

"I've absolutely no idea." All the more to look forward to.