TheDarkestShinobi: call me butter, 'cause I'm on a roll

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Earlier

"My death, is that really necessary?" John asked as he leaned into the chair in the office. He was cleaning his new gun as Mycroft explained his new duties for her highness.

"Yes, while we don't have precedence for this, it has been deemed necessary due to your fame." John didn't even look up from his weapon. "Sherlock also may come for you." John placed the gun gently in his case.

"Sir, I am a soldier, I am trained to follow orders without reason or justification, you don't need to give me either, but don't lie to me." They made eye contact over the table. It was odd, not to see John in Sherlock's shadow. He was a darker man without Sherlock, and that was a thought so odd he didn't want to entertain it any longer.

Maybe, Mycroft entertained, John was just different. Civilian and military lives were different, and if the John had acted like Mycroft had known him to in Afghanistan then he might not have made it out. So there was John and the Captain. Had Sherlock noticed this, did he bring John out from the Captain? Interesting.

"Understood, Captain" John shifted his head.

"If that will be all,"

"Actually, go see Kayla, she needs to make a full body inspection."

"Yes, sir."

She demanded to see everything; she traced every scar on his body and learned his muscles. She learned the exact shape of the burns on his legs. This had to be exact, because Sherlock never forgot anything he saw. She made him jump, made him pull his hair and fall against a bed and stay there for ten minutes. She had him drop his phone when he fumbled and by the end of it filled a notebook with details so minute he wondered if she was like Sherlock.

"My boss likes to be through." She explained with a smile as she finished. "Thank you Dr. Watson, next you have to see your therapist."

"My therapist?" He repeated as a question and her smile and nod disarms him, she was beautiful.

"Yes, you need a prescription to overdose on."

"An overdose?" He waved his hand "don't I disserve something a little… more…" her look didn't change and so he dropped his hand and his thought without finishing it. "Okay, how do I convince her to give me a prescription?" She smiled

"Simple."

…

Present

"Do you have that blood work for me yet?"

"It takes more than two hours Sherlock." Lestrade said and Sherlock slammed his hands on the desk. "Come on, think, who could convince John to go along with this?"

He needed his skull, or John. Preferably John.

"Along with what?" Sherlock lifted his head. "He's dead. He committed suicide. Now," Sherlock watched him pull out a pad "you were on the scene minutes after we were and the tip was anonymous."

"Tip? What kind of tip?" He was getting excited again, Lestrade noticed with dismay.

"Complaint actually, John was throwing a fit, broke a chair, shot the wall, screaming at himself."

"About?" Sherlock was trying to imagine the situation.

"The war."

"No." Sherlock was looking at his hands; Lestrade hated him in that instant. "There is more."

"About you. Cases. Him being invisible." Sherlock's face fell for a second, of course. "Now what made you come to John's place?"

"I'm a suspect."

"If its murder, you're the only one."

"This." Sherlock pulled out his phone to show his last text from John.

"Goodbye?"

"I send him Goodnight, why would he respond goodbye to goodnight." He watched the other sigh and lean back into his chair. "John did not commit suicide. Call when you have the records."

…

"Hey It's the new guy!" One of the others exclaimed, and John heard a few naughty chuckles.

"Hey, new guy." One of the bigger men said as he walked closer. John looked him up and down. Good stature, hasn't been here long though, most likely to only recently gotten over initiation himself. "What's your name?" John straightened even further, though he had no hope of reaching the other, who made him look like a hobbit in comparison.

"John Watson," One of the men behind the other raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth in disbelief and John smiled, it was nice to be back to being known.

"Captain John Watson Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, so I wouldn't call myself new."

"Did I hear a John Watson!" from the next room, a muscular man burst in. Terrible job, his face, with four separate lines of stitching across it, left eye permanently shut and a burn over his right cheekbone. John recognized the type of burn, there was one on his leg just like it. It was Afghanistan for him then. "This man stitched me up on the battlefield." Ah, his terrible job then. "Kept my face closed enough to save it." He bounded over to the doctor and shook his hand enthusiastically.

"I never got a chance to thank you, heard you'd been shot, fatal." John rotated his shoulder; the mention of the wound always brought back a haunting pain.

"Near fatal."

"Lay a hand on him." The man started again, "and answer to me." John didn't have to suffer a second initiation, and for that he was happy.

…

"John, John, John, JOHN!" Sherlock gradually rose to a yell as he slammed the test results onto the table one by one. "Oh, this is very good!" Sherlock jumped onto a chair, legs settling under him. He placed his hands together as he rested his chin on it. It all pointed nowhere, so it had to be Moriarty. That much was obvious, the how was not. He closed his eyes, think, how could this be done?

"Denial-I can't believe it. Freak's in denial." Donavan shook her head next to Lestrade, who opted to look at her instead of the man putting his dirty shoes in his chair. He sighs and opens the manila envelope in front of Sherlock.

"We've got a murder we want you to take a look at." Sherlock opened his eyes.

"What?"

"A woman with a hole drilled in her foot, matches a case from a town over, from a year ago. He drains the victims' blood and collects it. No blood found in the crime scene. Both women are in white gowns, almost like wedding dresses. Their bodies are strung up by their hands." His eyes skimmed the file and then the pictures although John never left his thoughts.

Donavan watched him work and hoped this could take his mind off of John. Then she shook her head, blinking more than she should've and walked out.