Psycho-boring disclaimer alert: If I owned Benedict Cumberbatch, Rupert Graves or Andrew Scott, the world would know. Trust. I just do this for fun.

A Study in Hot Pink.

Realisations, drugs busts, and mysterious departures.

They were back at 221B, leaning against the wall and laughing as John said almost-breathlessly "That was the most stupid, the most reckless, and the most dare devilish thing that I've ever done." Sherlock smirked as he joked "And you invaded Afghanistan."

It was worth the risk to hear her adorable, mellifluous giggle sound like summer rain around the hall, it made him feel... alive. "That wasn't just me!" she reasoned between the bursts of endearing giggles. "Why aren't we back at the restaurant?"

He made a dismissive gesture with the hand furthest from her, wanting the other to keep it's position near to hers, its swinging from her giggle meant that it brushed against his every time she jerked a little from a fresh shower. "Oh they can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway. We were there just to... pass that time." He looked at her proudly as he followed "And proving a point."

Brows drawn up, bottom lip being chewed and eyes suddenly bright and curious, she asked him to explain. "You." Sherlock said simply, but proudly. He then called out "Mrs Hudson! Ms Watson will take the room upstairs."

Raising a brow teasingly, she joked "By who's orders, oh mighty Consulting Detective." Sherlock gave her a small smile and said rather happily "The man at the door."

Hearing the knock sound that the door, John sent Sherlock a questioning look. He said nothing, just motioned for her to answer it. Eyes laughing at the game, she opened the door and let her eyes widen, her brows to rise up under her block fringe and her mouth to fall open to make an 'O' of surprise when she found Angelo at the door. "Sherlock texted me, signorina. He said you forgot this." Angelo raised her cane to her amazed eyes. Turning back, she smiled her happiness to Sherlock.

It took his breath away. Sure, he'd had her once-in-a-lifetime smile with its eternal reassurance in it directed at him before, but the sheer sincerity of thanks and joy in this one made his breath falter. But this time he ignored the burning of his lungs and his eyes threatening to water if he didn't start breathing, it would all be alright if only she kept on looking at him like that.

Turning back to Angelo, she thanked him as she took her cane and they exchanged goodbyes. Shutting the door, she remained silent as she stared at the flimsy piece of metal that'd haunted her for so long. She stared at Sherlock, the intensity of her gaze made his body tingle, and something fuzzy in his stomach coil up on itself.

She threw the cane to the floor near the coat stand and ran to Sherlock yelling "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Much to his surprise, John leaped onto him so that his arms automatically wrapped around her waist while hers wound themselves around his neck, and their bodies smashed against one another for a moment before he was swinging her around from the momentum, before placing her down onto the floor.

Sherlock was surprised, but his brains short wired when John exclaimed "You beautiful, extraordinary, wondrous man you!" and placed a kiss onto his cheek. Sherlock was sure that he had a red kiss mark on him, but he didn't care. He merely smiled rather dumbfoundedly at the woman who was close to crying in his arms. His heart stuttered, his cheeks burned from the no doubt ruby blush that'd be on it, and his stomach did that weird fluttery thing again.

Still in each other's arms, they both looked shocked when Mrs H came around the corner with tears in her eyes and a cracking voice as she wailed "Oh, Sherlock! What have you done?" Brows furrowed and a questioning gaze in his silver eyes, Sherlock half-choked out "Mrs Hudson?" Mrs H looked from one face to another, half ashamed to have caught them in such a romantic moment, but she was rather panic-stricken you must understand, as she half sobbed "Upstairs."

Both hurrying up the stairs, Sherlock flung open the door to the living room and let it bangs ominously against the wall as he and John saw many people searching through his flat, with Lestrade sitting comfortable in Sherlock's favourite leather seat. Sherlock demanded "What are you doing?"

Lestrade quickly fired back and said "Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid." Sherlock glared at him as he growled out "You can't just break into our flat!" Lestrade once again fired back his answer "And you can't withhold evidence." He breaks for a moment before continuing much calmer "And I didn't break into your flat."

"Well, what do you call this then?" Sherlock motioned to all the people rummaging through his and John's flat. Lestrade looked around at them before looking back to Sherlock innocently as he said "It's a drugs bust."

They both turned to look at John, who'd snorted in amusement, as she said incredulously "Seriously? Sherlock a junkie?! Have you even met him?!" She ignored Sherlock coming closer and biting his lips as he warned "John..." She looked to Lestrade and said in a half-laughing voice that was as sweet as a breath of fresh air "I'm pretty positive that you could search this flat all night, and you wouldn't find anything that you could call recreational. I mean, you-"

"John, you might want to shut up now."

A laugh still in her face she said "Yeah, but, like, come on..." But looking into Sherlock's eyes, she could see the seriousness in them and faltered. Without thinking, she gasped "No freakin' way!" Confused at what she was talking about, he whispered to her "What?" Shock still in her voice she breathed out "You!"

"Shut up!" The defensive anger in his voice was almost hurtful. Sherlock saw the hurt in her eyes and his heart almost wrapped an artery around itself in the pain of seeing John's lips quiver not from laughter, but from an attempt to hold back her sadness, her eyes shiny and bright from the hurt tears that were forming there. Sherlock turned back to Lestrade and showed out his anger of Lestrade causing a situation that meant John was sad when he growled "I am not your sniffer dog."

Lestrade, who'd watched with interest the interaction between the detective and his flatmate, smirked a little as he pointed to the kitchen and said "No, Anderson's my sniffer dog." He watched as Sherlock saw Anderson turn towards him and wave his hand in a sarcastic greeting. Lestrade knew that Sherlock was livid from this, his silver eyes having darkened to molten smoke and his mouth downturned in fury as he yelled "Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?!"

Venomously, Anderson replied in his nasally voice "Oh, I volunteered." John turned from Anderson, who looked at her snidely, to Lestrade to watch as he said to Sherlock "They all did. They're not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they're very keen."

Hearing Anderson say "Hello again" John turned to stare at him as he leaned against the door post, in a way she supposed was meant to look appealing and sexy. At the pause he took, Sherlock noticed her intelligent brows disappear under her fringe and her sweet, pillowey lips curved sarcastically upwards as she drawled coldly "Did you pause 'cause you wanted me to tell you my name? Or were you just catching your breath before saying your no doubt irresistible pick-up line." Sherlock smirked as she rolled her eyes, blew at her fringe and sat down on the couch next to the wall cross-leggedly and observed her nails boredly.

"Are these human eyes?"

The almost good mood that John had brought to him diminished from Donovan holding the jar up so that everyone could see. "Put those back!" As if an excuse, Donovan said defensively "They were in the microwave." Sherlock rolled his eyes and snapped at her "They're an experiment."

After a moment, Lestrade yelled to his team to "Keep looking, guys."

Suddenly, loud bangs could be heard from upstairs, loud footfalls audible to them from above. John's room. The voice that she used was sweet and dripped acid as she smiled sweetly and asked lightly "There wouldn't happen to be men in my room, would there Lestrade?" Lestrade, unaware as Sherlock was that her smile was fake, told her that two men had gone up to check the room a moment ago. Her smile may have been sweet, but her eyes were darkened and menacing as she got up and travelled the stairs to her room.

"You could help us properly and I'll stand them down."

Sherlock paced as he snapped at the smirking Lestrade "This is childish!" Lestrade sighed and quipped "Well, I'm dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?" Sherlock stopped his pacing and glared as he said "Oh, what? So-so-so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?" Lestrade crossed his arms and said seriously "It stops being pretend if they find anything."

"I am clean!"

"Is your flat? All of it? Is your flatmate hiding something? She shot off pretty quick there." Sherlock unbuttoned his left shirt cuff and pulled it up to reveal his nicotine patches on his arms as he said angrily "I don't even smoke." Lestrade did the same with his right cuff to reveal a patch as he said "Neither do I." Sherlock rolled his eyes as they both started to do their cuffs back up and Lestrade said "So let's work together."

Lestrade looked like he was going to say something more, but was cut off by a loud shriek coming from the top of the stairs leading to John's room. Sherlock moved to investigate, but stopped, shocked, at the sight of two burly men falling down the stairs noisily and laying in a heap at the bottom of the steps. One of the men untangled himself straight away, hobbling down the stairs and very loudly slamming the front door closed on his way out.

The other groaned as he slowly lumbered to his feet, leaning on the railing as if to orientate himself before lumbering into the living room. He dragged his feet as he walked and showed a bow-leggedness that made every man there wince in pity of his pain. The man's nose looked broken and bled heavily, even though he held it quite hard if the whiteness of his knuckles were anything to go by.

"What the hell happened to you?" the surprise in Lestrade's voice was felt by everyone. He was a very large, muscled policeman and he'd seemingly been beaten up by a small slip of a woman. Then again, Sherlock thought, she'd been a soldier for five years, no doubt she learnt some very useful self-defence out there.

The man opened his mouth to say something, but ended up whimpering as John entered the room, her hair more than a little mussed and her clothes slightly askew. She smiled at Sherlock, but glared at the man as she spotted him. Purring dangerously, she mocked "Still here are you?" John then smirked as she rather theatrically looked for the other man, not seeing him she put on an innocent face and mocked in a voice that women usually saved for babies and cute animals "Awww, did de bwig, pervwerted powicemwen get scawed?"

"She attacked us, Sir. There we were doing as you'd tasked us, and she just attacked." John had been calmly admiring her nails with a sinful smirk until the man said that they'd done no wrong. Now she looked angry, her eyes glaring at them as she snapped "Oh, yeah! 'Cause my underwear was a real threat to the public!" A slight flush covered her face, and her lips were downturned with disgust. She seemingly calmed herself once more, taking a deep breath with closed eyes while the man's colleagues and Lestrade stared at him. The man grew more and more red in the face as Sherlock glared bloody murder at him.

Her calm self once more, she sat herself cross-legged on the fainting chair once more and said casually "I'd appreciate if you gave back that negligee willingly. I do hate to dirty my hands with the same guy twice in one day." Lestrade ordered the man to return any items belonging to the Doctor, and slowly, with an almighty reluctance, the man dug his hand into his coat pocket and withdrew a flimsy, half-see through piece of gossamer white fabric and chucked it at John, who caught it in one hand and, with a blood curdling glare, went back upstairs to put the piece of fabric back into her room.

The silence ate at the disgraced officer, who quickly asked for permission to leave. Lestrade consented, but told the man that they would talk of this in the morning. The man took heavy, dragging steps to the stairs, only to let out a high-pitched shriek and half-run-half-fall down the stairs to slam the front door shut.

In walked Johnnye, seemingly in much better spirits than before, and sat down on the fainting chair once more. Nobody knew what to say, Sherlock wanted to run over and hug this glorious woman, but restrained himself to smiling at her, to which she gave her 1000watt smile back with its generous helpings of eternal reassurance and childlike charm.

"You do know that you could be arrested and charged with assault to a police officer."

John turned her much calmer self to look at Donovan with an almost serene expression, raised three fingers and said "One: he was an off-duty police officer." She lowered one finger. "Two: he was looking at my personal undergarments and making obscene comments. Don't lie to me and say that you wouldn't have done exactly the same if you came home to find two strangers admiring your undergarment measurements."

Donovan snapped her previously ready-to-talk mouth shut and pouted at finding John to be right. John rightfully lowered another finger with one remaining. John's gaze then became sarcastic and mocking as she said "Although, that would be a stretch of the imagination for two men to be admiring your measurements" her gaze wandered over Donovan's figure and smirked at her glare before returning to her non-plussed self and finishing with "And three: I didn't assault him." A beautiful, wicked little smirk lit up her face as she purred "Much."

Wanting to interrupt before Donovan and the Doctor got into a cat-fight, he said "We found Rachel". That instantly got both Sherlock and the Army Doctor's gaze to lock onto him, equal looks of curiosity burning in their eyes as Sherlock got closer and asked "Who is she?"

Pleased for that awkward milestone to be over with, Lestrade happily answered "Jennifer Wilson's only daughter."

Frowning, Sherlock wondered "Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?" Sherlock was confused, he just couldn't understand such sentiment and emotion at a time of such importance.

"Never mind that. We found the case."John turned to look at Anderson as he pointed to the pink suitcase in the living room as he said "According to someone, the murderer has the case. And we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath."

Turning swiftly and speaking harshly with a disparaging look sent Anderson's way Sherlock snapped "I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research."

Sherlock turned back to Lestrade and was all ready to launch into his next move, when he froze at the snort that came from his flatmate. Her lips were quivering again, and it wasn't long before her mellifluous summer rain rang around the flat. Sherlock thought he'd never been quite so proud to be him in that moment. John regained herself and said laughingly "A sociopath is exactly the same as a ..." John trailed off when she saw the amused smirk on his face. Sherlock looked to Anderson as he said smugly "But Anderson isn't aware of that." Sherlock's heart stuttered and his lungs burned from his lack of breathing at the knowing smile and the twinkle in her amber eyes when she remarked "Fair play."

Their gazes locked. Sherlock was riveted by the sight of John biting her lower lip and smiling at him. He wondered what it would feel like to be the man that could freely kiss those sweet, luscious lips. What a lucky man he would be.

The loud clearing of a throat wrenched Sherlock from his thoughts and he had to return to the real world where he had an entire drug squad in his flat staring at him as though he'd told them about their best friend's husband being gay.

Sherlock turned from her to look at a smirking Lestrade and told him urgently "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her."

"She's dead."

"Excellent! How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be." Sherlock didn't notice the concerned look that John sent his way, instead concentrating on the case and Rachel's link to her mother's murder. "Well, I doubt it... since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically, she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter."

John couldn't help the wince that came onto her face and her hand unconsciously raised to grab the two tags and run them up and down the chord. How horrid for Jennifer. Maybe that was why she was a serial adulterer, maybe she couldn't ever look at her husband the same way after Rachel. John may not be able to condone that she had an affair, but she could definitely understand why she would after giving birth to a stillborn.

Sherlock frowned, confused once again at this woman writing her daughter's name in her dying moments. "No, that's... that's not right. How... Why would she do that? Why?"

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?! Yup, sociopath. I'm seeing it now." Sighing at Anderson's ignorance, Sherlock faced him and said exasperatedly "She didn't think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying, it took effort – it would have hurt."

Sherlock had begun pacing again, but still registered the thinking face on John. Her nose wrinkled cutely and her brow furrowed as her eyes travelled lazily up to look to the ceiling. Her eyes snapped to him and her eyes flashed intelligently as she asked him "You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it?" Sherlock stopped pacing and neared John, his eyes searching her as she thought aloud. "Well, maybe he... you know, talks to them? Maybe he used her daughter's death somehow?"

"Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?"

It took a moment for Sherlock to realise that everyone had frozen and grown silent. Glancing around the room, he saw their shocked faces. His cheeks reddening slightly, he turned to John and used their proximity to his advantage as he whisper-asked "Not good?" Biting her lip, John looked at him sheepishly and whispered back "A bit not good, yeah."

Sherlock shook it off and stepped even closer to her, able to drift through a field of Jasmine as he said intently "Yeah, but if you were dying, if you'd been murdered... In your very last few seconds, what would you say?"

"Please, god, let me live."

Sherlock became exasperated at her answer, he sighed and snapped at her "Oh, use your imagination!"

There was a pained silence after John said firmly "I don't have to." Sherlock saw the look of pain and recollection in her face, the slight quivering of her lips that signalled her agony in the subject.

Sherlock blinked a couple of times, shifted his feet and was about to wring his hands apologetically, but he stopped himself. This stupid behaviour wouldn't help the case. And the case was what he cared about. Only the case.

"Yeah, but if you were clever."

He saw the pain in her eyes when he'd said that, and he knew that he'd upset her again. Grabbing her shoulders so that she couldn't turn away as she'd moved to do, he said "I mean if you were really clever, John. Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers, she was clever. She's trying to tell us something."

John had never felt such a rollercoaster of emotions. This man could take her from the furthest reaches of hurt and pain, to the greatest woes, and then from relief to euphoric happiness. He dragged her along with him as he rode his thoughts, his brain going at too fast a rate for her to keep running along behind.

"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."

Sherlock waved dismissively at Mrs H and said rather harshly "I didn't order a taxi. Go away." Sherlock began to pace again, his mind whirring in theories. He was desperate to solve this case right in front of his new flatmate. He wanted to impress her. And although he'd venomously deny it if asked, he did care about her liking him.

John went over to Mrs H, putting an arm around her as she wailed "Oh, they're making such a mess! What are they looking for?" John put on her calming-as-hell voice on and said soothingly "It's a drugs bust, Mrs H. But everything's gonna be fine. It's not like they're gonna find anything." Mrs H looked suddenly very shaken and anxious as she defended herself "But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers-"

"Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe – I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off."

"What? My face is?" Anderson nasally remark was overruled by Lestrade ordering "Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back." John smirked as Anderson's objection was overruled by Lestrade yelling a reprimand at him. Sherlock mumbled to himself, his brows deeply furrowed and his hands either side of his head as he tried to figure it out.

"What about your Taxi?"

Sherlock turned and shouted furiously "Mrs Hudson!"

Sherlock was surprised to find that John wouldn't let that fly. She glared at him as Mrs Hudson ran down the stairs and snapped at him "Sherlock, that's enough! Don't take it out on Mrs H, for god's sake."

She ran out to the landing, leant over the banister and yelled "Come on, Mrs H! Sherlock's really sorry, I promise." She gave up when she received no answer, she came back into the room and said "Very nice, Sherlock. Smooth move. Slick." She sat down on the fainting chair once more and refused to look at him, and Sherlock felt... dejected.

"Have I upset you?" he asked carefully. As he stopped pacing, John still didn't look at him and said shortly "Nope." Her pointed chin was raised in defiance and her eyes stared out the window, her thoughts portrayed as far away from the room.

"Look at me, John." He said it soft and low, an unfamiliar thing for him to do let alone in front of Lestrade and the other people. He was unused to showing anything other than disdain for others. Full stop. For a moment, Sherlock didn't believe that she would look at him. But she shifted her gaze to him, staring into his eyes for less than a full 2 seconds before looking away again.

It was enough for Sherlock to gauge the look of disappointment and the feeling of betrayal displayed there.

Sherlock was taken aback to feel a foreign…emotion in the pit of his stomach. It was a lame and an unpleasantly numb snake that writhed incessantly. He felt it there, writhing uncomfortably. Regret, he deducted quickly. He felt regretful that he'd been so thoughtless with his wording that he'd made his flatmate disappointed with him and made Mrs Hudson cry.

It wasn't that he cared overly about making Mrs Hudson cry. No, for that he felt very little remorse. But this was for John, she was disappointed at his behaviour towards her, having expected better of him. Sherlock tried to remember the last time he felt remorse or regret. The only time he could think of was the one time he made his mother cry.

It was an odd development to say the least. This was different and foreign for him. This was his flatmate, John Watson. The woman who made his heart flutter, put up with his mood swings and teased the life near out of him.

He heard John sniff and looked to see her chest heaving silently, her nose winkling and her golden honey eyes brimming with tears. He didn't want her unhappy. A woman like John can't be unhappy, it was just so wrong to see her like that. She was the one with the sunlight in her smile, the stars in her inquisitive eyes and an inferno of warmth residing in her. Sherlock gulped for liquid luck, before trying to set things right between John and himself.

"I didn't mean to… Mrs Hudson was... I have to concentrate and she was... I wasn't intentionally trying to, I mean-" Sherlock stumbled over his words, trying to make up for his mistake. "I didn't mean to- That was…slightly thoughtless of me."

The recognition of his mistake made John stop. He didn't strike her as someone to apologise or say that what he did was wrong, even if everyone knew it. She raised her gaze to look at everyone around them, if the looks she and Sherlock were anything to go by this never happened. She looked to him, and tilted her head, evaluating him silently. Eventually, she gave him a small and watery, yet radiant smile to tell him her acceptance of his unsaid apology.

These last two days had been the oddest of his entire life. This woman had made him feel stirrings when they'd met, made him feel emotions, happiness and sadness and remorse. Every time she'd smiled at him, or laughed at his jokes, he had felt slightly... what was that feeling...? Important? Happy?

And he'd felt... bad... deflated, almost...? When she'd not looked at him and told him off. He'd felt as if his stomach had suddenly dropped from his abdomen, sprouted wings and flown off. Sherlock scolded himself. He didn't have time for feelings. He had a serial murderer to catch.

It all seemed sudden, John watched as Sherlock eyes suddenly widen and twinkled in delight. He'd figured something out, obviously. "Ah, of course, she was clever, clever yes! She's clever than you lot and she's dead! Don't you see, don't you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it, she planted it on him! When she got out of the car, she knew she was going to her death. She left her phone in order to lead us to her killer!"

John's full lips dropped as a breathed gasp flew from her lips and went over to the case and checked the label. She giggled beautifully at what she found, took out the label and went over to Sherlock's computer, biting her lip as she typed furiously.

Sherlock looked triumphantly at John, who smiled at him with the magic that made the numb serpent writhe in his gut again, but this time it was a different uncomfortable – it was hot, and made him fight not to have his cheeks burn with a blush.

Looking away quickly, he turned to Lestrade to see him ask "But, how?" Sherlock frowned at Lestrade as he asked "W-what do you mean 'How?'" Lestrade shrugged dismissively. Sherlock looked confusedly from John, who had turned around to look at him in the chair at the table, to the still dumbstruck police force in their flat that obviously hadn't a clue what he was talking about, or what John suddenly went onto the computer for. Sherlock laughed in disbelief and said "Oh, look at them, John. They're all so vacant. Is it nice not being us?" He turned his gaze to meet hers as he continued "It must be so relaxing." He turned his face back to Lestrade and said far sterner "Rachel is not a name."

At Lestrade's stern "Then what is it?" John cleared her throat gently to get his attention.

"Remember how there wasn't a phone or an organiser on the body, DI bossman, and there being nothing of the sort in the building? And there wasn't a laptop or anything in her case? Well, a serial killer wouldn't just steal a laptop from a small media gal and not rob the rich Patterson guy. So, the question is: where did she do her work and organisation?" John sighed at more blank looks, shared an amused look with Sherlock and continued at his motion to keep going "Her phone?"

At more blank look she sighed and said "Geez, I can see why the crime rates have gone up." She rolled her eyes as she explained "The paper in the cases' label had her phone number and an email address. But it wasn't a laptop's email engine, it was a smart phone's."

She picked up the label and read out "Her address is ' .uk'" she turned and flicked her hair over so that it rested on one shoulder. As she did it, a wave of jasmine washed over the room, and Sherlock found his guard being lowered and he closed his eyes to relish the scent of his flatmate. She typed the address into the user name box and said "The website for her account is e-mail enabled and her user name is her e-mail address" she moved to the password box and Sherlock piped in mockingly "And all together now, the password is...?"

"...Rachel" Sherlock and John said it at the same time, and gazed triumphantly to each other. John looked back at the screen at the sound of a ping and started typing again.

"So we can read her e-mails. So what?"

Sherlock had seriously had enough of Anderson not only trying to undermine his intelligence, but trying to flirt with John and make him the suspect. Again. "Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street." Sherlock smirked at the sound of a small snort coming from his flatmate still staring at the screen in front of her that had a turning clock on its screen, obviously she'd started the search, before continuing with "We can do much more then read her e-mails. It's a smartphone, it' got GPS which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her."

"Unless he got rid of it."

John turned to Lestrade and smiled as she said winningly "And we know they didn't. I texted the number and they called me back." Sherlock rushed to look over John's shoulder, for the first few moments he didn't realise how close they were. It was when he smelt the Jasmine coming from her exposed neck that Sherlock realised that he could feel her back pressing into his chest every time she took in a deep breath, her long mane of chocolate hair brushing his arms that'd placed themselves so that his hands were resting on the top of the back rest.

"Sherlock, dear. This Taxi driver..."

Utterly frustrated, Sherlock strode up to her and said snidely "Mrs Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" He noticed the rigidity that froze the muscles in John's shoulders. And, for one crazy moment, he entertained the thought of going over and rubbing the stress away.

Sherlock shook his head disdainfully, this was a case. He didn't have time for thoughts like those, however much he really wondered how she'd react to his touch. Striding over to Lestrade, he said hurriedly "We need to get vehicle, get a helicopter..."

John wasn't listening to the rushed tones of Sherlock and the DI bossman, she was looking fixedly at the screen as it zoomed into a London map, getting closer and closer to showing where the phone was. Further and further into detail it bleeped, until it stopped to show the phone's location in... 221B? "Errr, Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't seem to pay attention, so she called him again. This time Sherlock took notice and hurried over to once more lean into her as he said "Where is it, John? Quickly, where?" Sherlock read the map and looked around to stare at John and asked confusedly "How can it be here? How?"

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back, and it fell out somewhere."

Sherlock straightened, turning to Lestrade and snapping "Oh, and I didn't notice it? Me? I didn't notice it?" John came to his defence and said "We texted him and he called back." Her eyes went back to Sherlock, who stood fixed in the middle of the flat, his eyes distant and thoughtful.

His phone trilling a text alert, Sherlock took out his phone and read the message. John yearned to know what it said, as then Sherlock was staring at the door, past Mrs Hudson. Furrowed brows and biting her lip in thought, John called softly to him "Sherlock, are you alright?"

"What? Yeah, yeah, I-I'm fine."

Worrying about him now, John asked curiously, wanting to pick into his brains "So, how can the phone be here?"

"Dunno."

John rolled her eyes. Was it always going to be like this? Her trying to get through his thick skull, and Sherlock just keeping all the juicy bits of data and discovery to himself? Her curiosity wanted to keep going, it drove her to try ringing the phone and see if it rung out. "I'll try ringing the phone."

"Good idea." Sherlock headed towards the door. John called after him, frustrated this time "And, where are you going?" Sherlock stopped and turned to her as he said distantly "Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long." He winked and turned back this time, leaving John to stare curiously after him as she held her mobile in her hands.

She looked at the Force's people scattered around, nearly all openly staring at her. It was the wink that Sherlock sent her most likely. Did he even do that? She raised a brow and sent them a look with a snide "You drop something?"

She pressed the call button and pressed it to her ear as she went to the window and looked out to see Sherlock step into a Taxi and for the damned thing to drive off, taking the brilliant and thrilling Consulting Detective with it.

John watched in shock as it drove down the street and turned the corner. "H-he's just driven off in a cab. Sherlock, he's- he just left in a cab."

"I told you he did that." Donovan gave her a look that accompanied the accusing tone in her voice. She turned to Lestrade and snapped at him "He bloody left again." She turned and stomped into the kitchen and shout to other police "We're wasting our time!"

John looked to Lestrade and said innocently "I'm calling the phone. It's ringing out, so..."

"Well, if it's ringing out, it's not here."

John gave a sheepish smile to Lestrade and said "I'm gonna try the search again."

This was apparently the last straw for Donovan, as she stomped back over and sniped to Lestrade "Does it matter? Does any of it? He's just a lunatic and he will always let you down. You're wasting your time." She turned to gaze at John as she said pointedly "All our time."

There was silence as a stand off between Donovan and Lestrade occurred to see who'd crack first. Donovan as Lestrade was her boss, or Lestrade as he felt humiliated by Sherlock's sudden disappearance. Eventually, Lestrade yelled out "Ok, everybody... we're done here."

Everyone sighed and started to pack up their things. John sheepishly pressed the disconnect button and put her phone on the table, a blush creeping up her face to wave its patriotic colours to everyone.

"Why did he do that? Why'd he have to leave?"

John sighed to Lestrade, they were alone now so she used colloquial language rather than respectful Sir and Inspector. "Look, bossman, I've known Sherlock for a little over 50 hours. You know him better than I do. You've known him longer."

Shrugging on is coat, Lestrade sighed and said dejectedly "I've known him for five years, and no, I don't. The way he acts around you... it's like he's talking to an equal."

John laughed and asked "Is that so odd?" She watched as Lestrade shrugged and said slowly, as to not offend "Well, yeah. I mean, I didn't think that he was interested in even speaking to women. I thought he was asexual."

John choked a little, coughing so that her throat wouldn't burn too badly from the shock of the bossman saying such a thing to her. Giggling, she asked "So, why put up with him, then?"

Smiling at her, Lestrade let the game slip and sighed once more before admitting "Because I'm desperate, that's why. I'm gonna give you my number, just in case there's any advances that you and Sherlock make. I can tell you're the mature one in the relationship."

John scowled in frustration and growled out "Why is it everyone thinks we're automatically an item, just 'cause he's taken me with him on a case?" Lestrade, still looking down to her phone as he typed in his number, said teasingly "Because, Army Doctor, he's never taken anyone on a case with him. He's never taken a shine to anyone so quickly, and he's never shared his flat with anyone either."

Smiling, John joked and laughed out "So... I'm special." Walking to the door, Lestrade nodded with a smile on his face before he turned to stand in the doorway and said dramatically to the Doctor "And I put up with the sod because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think, one day, if we're very, very lucky... he might even be a good one." Lestrade pointed to the phone still in her hand and told her "I'm under 'Greg Lestrade'."

Hello fellow johnlock lovers, here's my latest installment. Hope you like. Review if you do, review if you don't. Yours,

Phoenix.