Disclaimer: Right this moment my kitten Havoc is sitting on my lap begging for attention. He's a sweet kitty. Selfish but still sweet. He's just about the only thing I own besides my children and I've been told that owning another person is illegal. Why isn't it illegal to own an animal then? They're people too. Right so he's making a right nuisance of himself and I'll just say that I don't own the characters.

A/N: This fic is definitely longer than 'A Study in Pink' I mean I'm what less than half an hour into the episode and I already have nearly ten chapters. Right. Well there are a lot more POV switches in this one as compared to the first. I really hope you aren't minding the length. I know it's not really bothering me. I like to write. Let me know what you think of this chapter.

Another One

Thousands of symbols flashed across his vision as he stared at the pictures of the defaced portrait. There was something about the symbols of the message that seemed familiar. Something that he should remember. It was irritating him that it was just out of his reach.

John would be able to help him. John would say something and it would spark the neurons in his brain and he'd make the connection he was looking for. But John wasn't here. John was off trying to land a job. He was being an idiot. Didn't he know that Sherlock needed him here?

It was stupid really. John didn't need a job they had more than enough money to pay the bills. John just didn't want to touch the trust fund their fathers had left either of them. Stupid. As soon as this case was finished Sherlock was going to sit him down and have a very long talk with him about pride and charity and stupidity.

He heard John's tread on the stairs to the flat. They were light and quick today. Guess he got the job then. Unsurprising they would have had to be mad to not hire him. Still it was an irritation. If John wanted a job so bad then he should have gone to Mycroft. Then, at least, he'd be available when Sherlock needed him.

John walked in through the kitchen and threw his jacket over the chair. "I said could you pass me a pen," Sherlock drawled. He knew it would irritate John because he'd only just come through the door but he didn't much care. John needed to see that Sherlock needed him around.

John took a few more steps into the room and nearer to Sherlock. He half turned to look towards the door as though looking for someone else. "What? When?" He asked when he didn't see anyone.

Sherlock continued to stare at the pictures on the mirror. "About an hour ago." That would irritate John as well. He always hated it when it seemed as though Sherlock was so far in his own head that he didn't notice John's presence or lack thereof. Sherlock always knew though he just didn't want to look as dependent as he knew he was.

But John only sighed and tossed the pen from the desk to him. "Didn't notice I'd gone out then?"

Oh, Sherlock had noticed and he hadn't been happy but he'd let it slide until the case was solved. John stepped up to stare at the pictures, unable to contain his own curiosity.

"I went to see about a job at that surgery," John informed in a suspiciously bland tone. He'd put his hands in his trouser pockets. Was he trying to hide the renewed trembling of his hand or was he keeping himself from picking up the pictures to study them a bit closer? The latter Sherlock decided.

"How was it?" Sherlock asked in an attempt to appear interested even though he knew he'd resent the stupid job.

John didn't take his eyes from the pictures on the mirror. "Great," he clicked his tongue and nodded to himself. "She's great."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes for a moment. Was John trying to make him jealous? He'd never done that before. Something new. "Who?" He asked in what he hoped was an uninterested tone.

John finally turned away from the mirror and looked at him. He affected a surprised 'that wasn't what I'd meant to say' look. "The job." He said simply.

"She?" Sherlock pressed. There was a flash in John's eyes. He was trying to make Sherlock jealous. Why? What purpose would this incomprehensible act serve? It would only make Sherlock testy and unreasonable.

John seemed to notice Sherlock's growing irritation and stared him in the eye. Sherlock relaxed subtly. Let John play his games. Those hazel eyes told him all he needed to know. John still loved him and so this woman didn't matter at all. "It." John said firmly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes to communicate his annoyance with John's games and then tilted his head to the table. "Here, have a look."

"Hmm?" John hummed. He seemed to have dismissed whatever he had been attempting to tell Sherlock with this silly jealousy game and suddenly looked focused on the case. He moved to stand on Sherlock's other side, their shoulders brushing and looked down at the open webpage on the laptop that he just knew was his own again. "'The intruder that can walk through walls.'" John murmured as he quickly read through the article about a murdered journalist.

"Happened last night," Sherlock informed him as though he hadn't already noticed the date of the article. "Journalist shot dead in his flat. Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon."

John's brain quickly made the connections and he let out a startled gasp. "God, you think…"

"He's killed another one," Sherlock whispered with a near reverential tone. It was rather brilliant. The two men seemingly had nothing in common aside from their gender and locale and yet they were both killed in the same manner and most likely by the same person. It was mind boggling.

"We'll have to tell Detective Inspector Dimmock, you know, Sherlock?" John told him softly as he continued to study the symbols dancing in his Mind Palace.

Sherlock startled and stared at his husband. "What? Why?" He very nearly whined at him. "He's a detective and if he can't figure this out then he doesn't deserve to be one."

"Because he's not Greg, Sherlock," John explained patiently. "He doesn't already know how absolutely bloody brilliant you are. You have to prove it to him. I have no doubt that Greg has told him but he's also probably heard from Anderson and a host of others. He hasn't ever seen you in action until yesterday. He was fairly receptive then. He's not going to just fall in line with whatever you say until you prove yourself to him."

"Fine," Sherlock said sulkily. "I'll cultivate this DI on my own merits instead of his daughter's trust. Though Lestrade wasn't all that easy to win over, remember?"

"Yes," John chuckled. "I don't think that Dimmock will be all that difficult. You were too busy showing off yesterday to see his face. He was impressed. I think he may even have a bit of a crush on you."

The tips of Sherlock's ears turned red and he glared at John for making him blush. "You're daft," he told him firmly. "Let's go." He stood and whirled on his coat before stalking out. John only laughed.