TheDarkestShinobi: Been awhile, I know, sorry! I have loads of ideas for the 30 and am still trying to figure out which are the most relevant and only using them in this story. Reviews are love!

Start

"No?" Jim asks as he pulls the phone away from his knife and wooden block to watch Jim's lips flatten.

"Oh, I don't think you fully understand your situation here, Mr. Mrozinski." From his spot on the table, Moran can hear the other shout at Jim, threaten him and hang the phone up. Jim pulls his lips back into a frown while still giving off an air of nonchalance; he shrugs. Moran has already pocketed the knife and is standing.

"Sebastian," he calls in a light tone, "don't make it look like an accident or random killing." He instructs. "In fact, don't make it look like a hit either." Jim's voice drops an octave as he puts his hands in his pockets.

"Send a message."

Moran leaves and Jim frowns. He clenches his fist before turning away from the door knowing no one is going to come in for a bit.

How dare he threaten him?

Jim shakes his head as he walks to the window. He watches Moran's car leave the premises and feels a growl rising in his throat.

…

John cracks his neck as he walks down the hall. He is sending Sherlock 13 soon, although Jim needs to give him the file for it first. It's likely why Moran sent him to Jim for. His boots sound out the steady rhythm of his footsteps. He yawns.

He checks his phone as David passes him and winks. John smiles and shakes his head as he pockets the phone afterwards. He pauses for a brief second as he grabs the doorknob.

Jim's head snaps up as the door opens to see John standing in the doorway. Jim makes no move to get up from his hands and knees but his head tilts as John surveys the room.

The table next to Jim is snapped in half and there are pieces of a lamp on the floor. The curtains are ripped and shreds of it decorate the floor and table. The couch is turned over and the chairs are on their sides. Jim's hand is bleeding and there is blood on his face. Moran is nowhere in sight.

John runs forward and drops to his knees next to the other. He quickly puts his weight on his toes and leans back onto them, still remaining crouched.

"Jim, are you alright?" John rests a hand on Jim's shoulder as he turns and quickly searches the room for any threats. Would Mycroft really be idiotic enough to attack Jim now? Jim watches the back of John's head as he feels John's fingers squeeze his shoulder.

John.

John.

John.

John is a successful project. Jim has full control over John. It's true. John looks back to Jim as he pivots so his body faces Jim too. John pulls him up to his feet and Jim let himself be silent and passive as John checked him over. See? This was Sherlock's pet and now he's catering to a new master.

Prove it.

John feels Jim's hand wrap around the back of his neck but before he can react or ask he feels the other's lips on his own. John's eyes fly open in shock. It hurts and the hand on his neck squeezes. John pulls back to say something and his hands come up to push the other away when Jim speaks.

"Nothing." Jim growls. "You can deny me nothing." John's mouth shuts and his hands drop to his sides. The lips take him again, hungry and forceful but John doesn't respond until he feels Jim's nails biting into his skin. He doesn't know what game Jim's playing but he really doesn't have a choice.

When Jim pulls back John stays there, in the same spot, a neutral expression on his face. Jim pulls on the bottom of his suit jacket to straighten it before tilting his head. Ignoring the blood and destruction John continues with what he was going to say when he walked in.

"Moran sent me, said you had something for me."

Moran truly is irreplaceable, Jim wants to laugh, both of his soldiers are. He grabs the folder of number 13 from one of the few untouched tables and hands it to John.

"Send this one in the morning, 6AM." John nods once and Jim suddenly has the desire to kiss him again, to test just how far Johnny boy can go before he hits his limit. Jim wants to push him past it. How much could he get out of John? It had the added bonus of getting John attached and hurting Sherlock oh so much more. He has Sherlock's heart after all, so playing with fire is a must.

"Dismissed." Jim continues as he turns to the table. He picks up his phone to text Seb and only laughs once the door closes.

…

Sherlock's hand twitches as his phone goes off and he looks towards it. Lestrade doesn't think he can do this anymore. This would be the 13th murder in half as many days. He knows Sherlock hasn't slept in four days and Lestrade had to force a bagel down his throat this morning. He grimaces as Sherlock picks up the phone.

"It's Molly." He announces. Lestrade can hear the confusion in Sherlock's voice. "I asked her to run a test." He is both slow and soft spoke and Lestrade takes the phone from him and tosses it on the couch.

"Get some sleep." He's firm. "This can wait." It's almost 6 in the morning would have been Lestrade's next argument but Sherlock just nods and stands slowly. Lestrade places a hand on his back to guide him to his room and remembers the last time he had to guide Sherlock to his room.

"It's not the same." Sherlock seems to suddenly voice as he opens his bedroom door. The room starts to lighten with the sunrise.

"It burns!" the younger Holmes screamed as the elder looked away and the DI grabbed wildly around trying to calm him.

"You're doing fine."

"No, I'm not. I need it. My cognitive func-"

"It's not." Sherlock repeats and Lestrade nods. "It burns the same," Sherlock adds quietly, almost to himself "just like he said it would." Lestrade doesn't know what to say to that, so he just takes the other to bed.

The sofa cushion lights up as Sherlock's phone chirps.

Sherlock runs into the room, turning to the sofa. He slips and lands on his knees but he doesn't seem to notice. He reaches out for the phone as Lestrade stands in the doorway; he's crossed his arms and props up his leg against the frame. Sherlock sits on the floor and checks his phone as Lestrade rubs his forehead.

"It's him." Sherlock looks up from the phone and rests his back on the bottom of the sofa. Lestrade nods.

"What does it say?"

"It's a link." As the video loads Lestrade takes a seat next to Sherlock on the floor.

The music starts to play and the two men share a glance as a blonde woman on screen starts to sing.

"Who's that?" Lestrade asks as the woman poses nude for paparazzi in the video. Sherlock shakes his head and lets the video continue playing out. Once it's done Lestrade shakes his head in confusion but Sherlock rises to look up the lyrics on his tablet.

"She's an American." Lestrade tilts his head in affirmation.

"I could've told you that." He mumbles.

"Pink, with an exclamation mark for the 'i'." Lestrade rises from the floor.

"Coffee?" he offers as a way of letting Sherlock know he was making some.

"Black, two sugars." He instructs and Lestrade nods.

"So What." He repeats the name of the song to himself. "Pink." He pops his P. Sherlock puts his hands together and touches his pointer to his nose. "Pink."

Pink. Pink. His mind palace brings up hundreds of shades and flowers and places and finally, the blog.

Of course.

"Lestrade!" He calls walking towards the kitchen. "It's our first case together." He freezes in the doorway and swallows, "his first case with me."

"A study in pink." Lestrade nods as if it should have been obvious.

"Brixton then. Let's go." Sherlock is pulling on his coat and Lestrade frowns.

"Coffee?"

"No time for that now." He pulls on his scarf as he holds open the door for the DI. Once the both of them are through it shuts.