Disclaimer: Yep, I'm still ranting about Mt. Olympus not being in New York City. And Lestrade still hasn't become my blankie. I haven't found Eros yet. Sherlock and company are not mine and at this rate they never will be…I refuse to give up hope though so I'll keep writing these stories even though I don't make any money from them.

A/N: Chapter two of the Sunday Blitz which is what I've decided to call the Sundays when I can upload more than one chapter. Enjoy it and let me know what you think.

Hope

Sherlock opened the door to the street while shrugging into his coat. A cab sat next to the curb and the driver leaned against it. Sherlock knew that this unassuming, ordinary looking man was the serial killer they'd been chasing. This was the man that had texted him to come with him. He wasn't afraid. John had said he was going to start the GPS search again. It wouldn't take his husband more than a few minutes to figure out what was going on and then his soldier would be in a fine fury. He would chase them down and retrieve Sherlock if it was the last thing he ever did. There was something vastly comforting in that thought.

"Taxi for Sherlock Holmes," the fiftyish cabbie said.

Sherlock shut the door to 221 Baker Street and smirked at the cabbie. "I didn't order a taxi," he stated.

"Doesn't mean you don't need one," the cabbie said.

"You're the cabbie…the one who stopped outside North Umberland Street." Damn! Sherlock thought. John's idea of memorizing the cab number had been a good one and he should have followed up on it. He'd have to tell John he'd been right when John rescued him. "It was you, not your passenger."

"See, no one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible, just the back of an head." He didn't sound upset by this. More amused and indulgent than anything else, really. "Proper advantage for a serial killer."

Save the Cheerios, John's voice sounded inappropriately in his mind. Though it was something John would say. He never allowed anyone to intimidate him. And this stupid man with his poison would only irritate John into silly comments designed to confuse the enemy, but Sherlock still didn't say the words. Taunting killers with random statements was John's job.

He took a few steps away from the building toward the taxi. "Is this a confession?" He looked up towards the window to the flat wondering if John was watching.

"Oh, yeah," the cabbie said cheerfully. "And I'll tell you what else. If you call the coppers now, I won't run." That statement got Sherlock's full attention centered back on the cabbie. "I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise."

"Why?"

"Because you're not going to do that," the smug tone irritated Sherlock.

"Am I not?"

"I didn't kill those four people, Mr. Holmes. I spoke to them, and they killed themselves." John had been right again. "If you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing." One more thing, you mean. "I will never tell you what I said." The cabbie looked at him for a moment and then pushed off the side of the car and walked around it to the driver's door.

"No one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result." Sherlock wasn't sure he wanted to know what the cabbie had said to those people but his curiosity was one of his biggest failings. He knew that if he got in that taxi John was going to do him bodily harm but he couldn't stop wondering.

"You won't ever understand how those people died." Why, not how. I know they ingested poison, you idiot. "What kind of result do you care about?" The one that doesn't lead to my husband yelling at me.

The cabbie entered the car and waited for him to make a choice. Sherlock bit at his lower lip, glanced up at the window to the flat again and then leaned down beside the taxi. Maybe there was still a way to convince the cabbie to give him the information he wanted and still avoided getting in trouble with John, Lestrade, Donovan and probably Mycroft as well. "If I wanted to understand, what would I do?"

"Let me take you for a ride." The cabbie said simply.

"So you can kill me, too?" Sherlock snorted.

"I don't want to kill you, Mr. Holmes," the cabbie sounded offended by the very thought. "I'm going to talk to you…and then you're going to kill yourself." Sherlock mentally rolled his eyes. There was nothing this man could say to or about him or anyone he knew that would convince Sherlock to take his own life. It wasn't as though John or another of his loved ones was in danger from this man and they could only be saved if Sherlock killed himself.

Sherlock straightened and stole another glance at the window. John was standing near it and looking down on him. Sherlock nodded at him and sighing for the scoldings he would receive later he stepped into the taxi. He studied the license on the dash. Jefferson Hope.

The cab started and Hope drove them away from Baker Street.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

John watched his husband enter the cab and hit the send button on his phone before holding it up to his ear and listening to it ring. He watched as the taxi pulled away from the curb and took off down the street. "He just got into a cab," he said aloud. He turned around and took a few steps towards Greg. "It's…Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab."

"I told you, he does that," Sally frowned and rounded on Greg. "He bloody left again." She turned away and strode into the kitchen. "We're wasting our time." She shot a look at John. "You better yell at him for me when he gets back, Dr. John or I swear I'm going to slap him for running off again. How are we supposed to do our jobs properly when he keeps information from us and runs off without telling us where he's going?"

John gave Sally an apologetic look. "I'm calling the phone. It's ringing out." He sighed and shrugged. "He's not answering."

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

Hope and Sherlock both ignored the incessantly ringing pink phone. Sherlock knew that it was most likely John. He also knew that it meant John had figured out who the killer was and would soon be on his way. He held back the smirk that was creeping up. He could always count on John to ride to his rescue. Seriously, John had been born in the wrong century. The man should have been a knight of old.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

"Well, if it's ringing, it's not here," Greg said. John scowled at him. They'd told him that already.

"I'll try the search again," John offered and headed for the table and laptop.

Sally approached and stood next to Greg glaring into the distance. "Damn that man!" She cursed. "What is he doing? We're wasting our time here. Dr. John, do you have any idea where he went or why?"

John shrugged. "He probably figured something out and went to investigate. What he figured out or where he went I haven't the foggiest."

Greg sighed. If John didn't know where Sherlock had gone then there was no hope that any of the rest of them would. "Okay, everybody, we're done here." He called to the officers.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

"How did you find me?" Sherlock asked Hope.

"Oh, I recognized you," Hope grinned in the rearview mirror. "As soon as I saw you chasing my cab—Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock turned in his seat to see if John was following them yet. "I was warned about you. I've been on your website, too; brilliant stuff, loved it."

"Who warned you about me?"

"Someone out there who's noticed you."

"Who?" Sherlock leaned forward and concentrated intently on Hope. "Who would notice me?"

"You're too modest, Mr. Holmes."

"I'm really not." John called him arrogant all the time and a show off.

"Got yourself a fan." The last word was whispered mockingly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and settled into the corner of the seat so that he could keep an eye behind them to watch for John. "Tell me more."

"That's all you're going to know…in this lifetime." Please, is that supposed to be a frightening comment? I don't find it so.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

"Why did he do that?" Greg asked. "Why did he have to leave?" He pulled his coat on as he spoke.

"Because he's Sherlock Bloody Holmes," John groused.

Greg gave a faint smirk. "True."

"Why do we put up with him, Greg?"

"Well, you do, because you are insane and in love with him. I put up with him because I'm desperate." He paused for a moment and then smiled. "And Sherlock Holmes is a great man on his way to becoming a very good one."

"That is very true," John sighed.

Greg followed the rest of his team out the door and left John alone in the silent flat.

A/N: Review? Please? I'm begging. Can't have Lestrade so I'll take reviews.