Soo Lin Yao

I went camping.

My car broke down on the way back.

In rainforest.

With no bug spray.

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In other news, thank you all for reading!

They crossed the street, Sherlock striding purposefully over to an apartment door next to the Lucky Cat. A flier was pinned to it, proclaiming a bargain of 30% off - or so John guessed. It was very wrinkled and the ink had run from damp. John could see Sherlock's point - had someone been here since the last rain, they surely would have taken it down.

"Perhaps they're on holiday," he suggested.

"Hardly," Sherlock said, leading him to the alleyway down the block. "She would have told her landlord to keep an eye on the place, to take anything so it didn't look open to robbery."

"Right," John said uneasily. "How did you know it was a woman?"

"On the doorbell, it said Soo Lin Yao. Flowers drawn round the edges of the placeholder - hand drawn in a feminine scrawl." Sherlock turned the corner quickly, bringing them back behind Soo Lin's flat. A rickety-looking fire escape stood there, leading up to a window. Sherlock gestured forward with a hand. "Care to do the honours?"

"You had no trouble barging in yourself last time," John grumbled, but he started to climb the rusting metal ladder.

"Last time, I knew what I would most likely find," Sherlock said from behind him. "I'll be right behind you."

"Oh, yes, that makes me feel so much better," John said sarcastically. He wasn't about to give Sherlock the satisfaction of hearing him admit that it did make him feel a bit better about breaking into someone's flat.

At least, he felt better for a moment, because then the rungs under John 's feet gave way with a clang of metal and he was left grasping at the top with both hands, knuckles white with tension. He desperately hoped the bar he was gripping wouldn't give way - at twenty feet up he'd hardly die but he really didn't want a broken ankle. I just got rid of that bloody limp, he thought, and the anger gave him the strength to heave himself onto the small landing in front of the window.

"Looks like you'll have to let me in from the front," Sherlock called up, in a voice that said, Dull.

"She's left her window open," John called down.

"Told you she wasn't on holiday," was all Sherlock yelled back as she disappeared round the corner.

John looked at the window, his gun in the small of his back. "Right," he said shortly, then climbed in.

It was cute. There was a vase precariously perched on a desk - he knocked it over but managed to catch it before it broke. It left a large splash of water on the rug and John sighed. Oops.

"Are you going to let me in?" came Sherlock's annoyed voice from the front door. John smiled at the impatience in her tone.

"Yes, coming," John said, trying not to disturb anything too much as he started to cross the room.

Two strong hands took him by the throat from behind. John's military training kicked in within seconds, twisting in a roll that broke the killer's grasp.

Yeah, housebreaking really isn't my thing, this was not a good idea. No more breaking and entering, he thought to himself as he fought with his masked assailant.

"NOT COMING VERY QUICKLY I GUESS," Sherlock's voice seemed overly loud to his adrenaline-rattled mind. "CAUSE YOU'RE LIKE SHERLOCK HOLMES, CONSULTING DETECTIVE, WORLD'S ONLY."

John wanted to shout back that she was too loud and would she please give him a moment to fight a ninja - but he had very little breath as he blocked a reach for his gun and got punched in the kidney. So he had to settle for, "NOT. HELPING," gasped out as loudly as he could under the circumstances.

However, he managed to hit the ninja hard enough that it - he - staggered back a bit and then John had a moment to pull out his gun. Unfortunately the ninja had the window to his back and quickly disappeared through it. John had a moment when he hoped the ninja had fallen, but then he remembered that ninjas could climb.

He groaned, pressing a hand to his side. The front door clicked open - Sherlock came in pocketing something that looked suspiciously like a lock-picking set - not that John minded, he was more worried about the bruise forming on his kidney and how likely he was to pee blood for the next few days - and now Sherlock was looking at him, pale-faced.

"We need to look for Soo Lin Yao," John finally said, and colour came back into Sherlock's face. "Right?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Found this under the door," she said, holding up a piece of paper and tossing it at him, then walking out the way she had come.

John realized he'd been leaning back on a desk absentmindedly, and now he heaved himself off of it with a sigh, wincing again at the throb in his side and looking at the paper in his hands. It was a flier for a museum, with a boyish scrawl.

"Soo Lin -

let me know you're all right

Andy"

This was followed by a phone number.

He took a deep breath, attempting to ignore the pain in his side that pressed in when his lungs moved. "Off we go, then."

"You think it's connected?" John asked Sherlock in the car. "Soo Lin and the others?"

Sherlock gave him a look that said, "Obvious," and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, handing it to him.

"What's this?" John asked, looking at it with some interest. It was black, and looked like it had once been origami, but it had been crumpled so he could not tell what it was supposed to be.

"Really, John, pay attention," Sherlock said, shaking her head. "There's been one at every killing - in Isabel's mouth, on the table at Gary's flat - I just found this one on the floor at Soo Lin's flat, crumpled as you see it."

John's eyes widened. "Do you think she's dead?"

"No." Sherlock's voice was clipped and cold. "I believe this was brought out for you, courtesy of your visitor, and then stepped on in your... scuffle."

"How kind," John said, grimacing. "I'll have to remember flowers for him next time."

Sherlock looked at him quickly. "Next time?"

John pretended to frown. "You're right, I'd much prefer no second date. He wasn't really my type."

This time Sherlock's mouth twitched in a quick almost-smile. But just as quickly she was able to compose her face back to neutral, and she switched subjects abruptly. "No, not dead yet, perhaps. She's been very clever so far..." her voice lapsed into silence, but John was fine with that, looking out the window at the tops of buildings for snipers and spider-man killers.