TheDarkestShinobi: Well, canceled plans and lack of contact from the outside world and viola, a chapter. Please send some love, requests, reviews, or anything really.

Now to bring up something very important to me. 50 shades of gray. Do not go see this piece of junk. Do not watch the mockery of BDSM and the normalizing-romanticizing- of domestic abuse. DON'T DO IT. There are so many things wrong with this trilogy and the fact that it is based off of twilight which also has red flags for domestic abuse doesn't help. If you must go see this damn catastrophe do so in a way that doesn't make them any money. Please.

Now, instead of seeing 50shades of abuse, I offer you a drabble. If you give me a situation that the book does (or doesn't) I'll write it, (THE RIGHT WAY with consenting adults that can handle it) This can be any couple from any of the groups I post stories for or have seen (see below) I'll even write OCs and the like.

The catch is you have to promise not to go see that movie, or give them any money. I'll have to trust your word on it so be a good girl or boy for me and I'll reward you.

Fandoms include: Naruto, Dead or Alive, House of Night, One Piece, Sailor Moon, Big Bang Theory, Once Upon a Time, Corpse Bride, Glee, Flash, Arrow, Gotham, and Sherlock.

Start:

If there is another one, give it to me now. -SH

John shakes his head as he reads the text. The video feed he made Jim give over to him shows Sherlock pacing in the room. He looks over to his sheets and debates washing them but he doesn't know where he would do that. He checks the time on his phone.

They've got half of them done in about 10 days, so he really can afford to slow down. John thinks of Sherlock fainting again and clenches his hands. He should be there with him. Sherlock would never let the yard know if he had a concussion, and who let him go so long without eating? John sits on the bed. Is this what Sherlock was like before John? Did no one care?

Not until you've had six hours rest and breakfast.

John cares. There is no response and John wonders what he's thinking. Likely trying to figure out how to get John to give him the case now, or fool John into thinking he slept and ate while he was trying to search for him. He glances at the feed to see Sherlock looking at his chair. He aches to sit in it, but his face is passive. He's getting a lot better at controlling his face and not showing his emotions.

I'll know.

John places the phone down and watches Sherlock read the text and groan. He disappears into his bedroom and comes out without the phone. John watches Sherlock pick up the violin and play out the chaos in his mind. John wonders if Jim was like this before he schooled himself not to show anything.

Never wear your heart on your sleeve, unless you want to taste defeat.

That's what happened. John let it show that he loved Sherlock and Sherlock kicked him out. Sherlock showed that he cared about John and Jim took him. Jim shows nothing and cares about no one and has created an empire. Jim is trying to mold John in his image now. Getting him to see the value of thriving instead of just surviving, but why?

John stares at his phone as Sherlock's tunes turn to some of John's favorites. Jim watches John and smiles wickedly. It's obvious there is a storm of emotion occurring, but his face gives nothing away. He's learning. Jim feels proud of the man who learned better in captivity, than those who had pleaded to be taught and showed enough potential that Jim gave in. Jim's face falls and he narrows his eyes at the thought. That's a dangerous attraction to another person. He doesn't have friends and doesn't get proud of pupils, John is not disappointing. That is all.

John eye's move to the screen and he watches Sherlock pack up the violin and shut off the lights. The camera automatically switches to night vision which startles John enough to exclaim 'what? Really' and causes Jim to shrug his shoulders in an innocent manner from his spot. John watches Sherlock lie down in the bed and John looks down to his phone.

This makes you listen to me so well. I should've done it a long time ago.

John realizes he's probably never been so 'entertaining' and that he's never been on Sherlock's mind this much before. The thought doesn't make him frown, it doesn't make him sigh. His face is perfectly blank, seemingly impassive. He stares at his last message until the screen turns black, and then he goes to bed as well.

Jim is so impressed he is giddy.

This won't do, he thinks as he stands and dials Seb.

"Sebby dear, I'm afraid I'm in a terrible mood and need to kill something. We wouldn't happen to have anyone to help me?" It's in a childish and pleading tone that causes Seb to laugh with a loudly for a few seconds.

"Sure thing boss. I'll send you the car."

…

Sherlock makes himself eat a piece of toast, well, half of a piece of toast, but that is enough breakfast for him and he will tell John the same if John tries to tell him it isn't. Besides, he ate yesterday, any more food and there won't be any room for deductions in his body. Around noon, he starts making his way over to the station because he has promised to keep Lestrade updated on any new numbers. Sherlock hasn't been counting but Lestrade said there had been fifteen cases so far. Sherlock can't think of any significant numbers from him and John and told Lestrade as much, but he's adamant that there must be something.

He spots Lestrade leaving a coffee shop and makes his way over to the detective. Lestrade offers him a smile and meets him in the middle of the block.

"Want anything?" Sherlock shakes his head and Lestrade narrows his eyes slightly.

"You're concern is not justified. I had breakfast." Sherlock straightens when Lestrade asks him if he really did. "Yes."

"Well, that's uh, good then. I assume you're on your way to the station." Sherlock stares at him in a way that says both 'you're right' and 'you're an idiot' and Lestrade shakes his head and sips on his coffee. Sherlock feels the buzzing in his pocket and pulls out his phone.

I see you slept. Good boy. Here comes your clue.

Sherlock wants to text back 'and ate too' but that would be too much. Like a desperate child seeking mummy's approval. The desired effect is already there, the clue should be coming soon. Sherlock starts looking around for anything and Lestrade joins him. Lestrade looks for anything out of place in the park next to them of the buildings beside them but nothing comes to him. Sherlock starts catalyzing all the patterns he can spot, especially anything that was 16 or any of its multiples but at the end of a minute he doesn't have much. Lestrade suggests they make their way over to the station, maybe the clue is there. Sherlock nods and they cut through the park.

"Watch out!" Lestrade ducks, hand over the coffee lid to protect it from spilling. Sherlock turns in the direction of the voice and gets hit in the face with a football. Sherlock catches it as it falls and realizes there is no way something with that structure and kicked would have so little force. His face has already stopped stinging. There is a red number 8 on it, obviously written with a marker by a man. Lestrade starts looking around but whoever threw the ball has disappeared. Sherlock inspects the ball but neither of them have any clue.

"It's an inside forward." Lestrade shrugs, "and that's all I can tell you."

"Are there any football players recently missing or murdered?" Lestrade shrugs

"Not that I've heard of," He throws the empty coffee cup away before sending a text to Donavan but she hasn't heard anything either.

You've got a whole 24 hours for this one, so go have lunch first.

Sherlock narrows his eyes at the phone and starts to shake his head. It feels like the last thing he did was have breakfast! Is John going to require him to eat three times a day, it's so tedious! Lestrade moves closer and Sherlock turns the phone towards him so he can read it.

"What if it's a hint?" Lestrade puts his hands in his pocket. "I could go for some lunch either way myself."

"You think I'm in need of hints?" Sherlock looks appalled at the implication that he needs help in the form of hints, but Lestrade shrugs. They have nothing right now.

"You've got a whole day for this one, it must be harder." Sherlock blinks at that. John had only given him a whole day once before. Lestrade had a point. Sherlock drops the ball and Lestrade watches him absent mindedly kick it back up to his hand. Lestrade can tell he's at least played the sport before and wonders what position the other was. Lestrade had shifted between goalie and the other defensive players.

Lestrade jogs a few steps back and holds his hand out for the ball. Sherlock tosses it and Lestrade smiles as he starts juggling it. He hasn't played it in a good while. Sherlock tilts his head. Lestrade played football for a while but not recently. He's very predictive and keeps his eye on the ball, defensive player then. Sherlock straightens. Football was definitely seen as more favorable than ballet, but Sherlock hadn't stuck with it. That, coupled with the fact that his brother excelled at the game so much quicker than he did. Lestrade juggles for a few more seconds, not really caring that his shoes were getting scuffs or that he was in a suit. He glanced up and Sherlock and kicked the ball over to him.

If Sherlock didn't play the game he would catch it with his hands, if he did, he'd instinctively use his body to stop the ball and kick it back. Sherlock blinks rapidly as Lestrade kicks the ball over and uses his chest to stop the ball as he had done often and lets it drop to his feet before passing the ball over to Lestrade, who is smiling. They pass the ball back and forth for a minute while Sherlock thinks.

Finally Sherlock stops the ball and kicks it back up into his hands. "Let's have lunch; there is a good Chinese place this way." Lestrade jogs up to him before falling into step with the other. Sherlock keeps glancing to the ball for hints, but it tells him nothing. Lestrade and Sherlock order food, though Sherlock is resolved not to eat all of it.

The woman behind the counter changes the channel as they came in so Sherlock has been staring at it. She smiles as she sees the ball and narrows his eyes at her, but he can tell she's got a cat, a dying mother, and absolutely no connection to neither John nor Moriarty. She's likely just amused at two men in suits carrying around a football, just like the others were in the park to see them passing it around.

Sherlock kept glancing to his phone to see if John sent him any knew information. He ate little, and he ate slowly, but he did eat lunch. He watched Lestrade throw out their containers and stood to leave. Sherlock was about to declare this a waste of time before the TV grew louder. "Today, we in the football community are morning the loss of one of our own. Up and coming Kaitlyn Rogers was found shot and killed in her community building."

Lestrade and Sherlock lock eyes before staring at the screen. Lestrade walks out and makes a call but Sherlock stays to watch the rest of the segment. Nobody knows anything, suspected gang activity. He grabs the ball and walks out.

"She lives in a poor, gang infested area," Lestrade starts as he hangs up the phone. "It's considered pretty obvious its gang related. They suspect it might have been over drugs." Sherlock scoffs.

"Rising star? I have no doubt she wouldn't touch any drugs." Lestrade sighs as they walk into the station. Donavan is already waiting for them both with files in her hands. Sherlock glances from it to her as she glances from him to the ball but neither of them say anything. She briefs them as they walk in and Lestrade closes his folder as soon as he's done.

"How's your head?"

"I'm fine," she shrugs it off, and other than the wrappings on her hand, she looks it. Sherlock glances between the two of them. They offered her the day off and she said no. Lestrade doesn't want her here but she's refusing to leave. They must have her chained to her desk but he knows she's got no cases on right now. She's here for him. Sherlock's eyes are wide and she looks over to him. The folder she made for him feels heavy in his hand.

"Never mind me, are you okay?" Sherlock almost feels like he can't breathe.

"Ofcoeimfin," he turns from her "of course I'm fine," he repeats slowly and coherently as he walks to Lestrade's office. "I'm going to check out the scene."

They both stare as he leaves. Lestrade shakes his head and she sighs.

"Better go after 'em." He turns to her with slightly narrowed eyes but she's walking away from him too. What did he just witness? He looks from her back to Sherlock's and opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

He gets stopped twice on the way out; the first is Dimmock who checks up on him, the second is yet another person that's having him fill out paperwork. When he finishes he stops at a few now empty desks and closes his eyes as he gently touches each one. He wonders if any of them would be alive had he stepped out of his office earlier at the same time he scolds himself about thinking like that.

Lestrade taps the last desk twice and a woman in the background sighs softly as she watches him.

…

By the time Lestrade makes it to his car, it's almost an hour later. Sherlock has thoughtfully sent him an address so he drives over to it. He beats Sherlock there so he walks into the store. It's a sports store so he immediately walks over to the footballs on the wall and finds the exact one Sherlock is holding when he walks in a few minutes later. When Sherlock spots Lestrade holding exactly what he came here for he lets a corner of his mouth come up and holds his hand out for it.

Sherlock nods and hands both back to Lestrade as he turns around. Sherlock also takes off his coat and throws it at Lestrade. Lestrade stands still as he watches Sherlock snatch an employee jacket off of a chair, and a nametag from a counter before waving at the manager and heading into the employee's workroom. Lestrade's mouth drops as he realizes how easy it was for Sherlock to go in and out of everything. He puts the other ball back as he moves around the store to avoid looking suspicious.

He can't help but watch as Sherlock leaves the room and drops the nametag. The man he took it from was still on a ladder stacking basketballs and Sherlock looks up at him. "Uh, Warren?" The man looks down and Sherlock holds the nametag up. Warren takes it with a smile and Sherlock takes off the jacket and lets it fall by the chair he took it from. When Sherlock reaches him and takes his coat back, Lestrade watches the other employee look around for the jacket and then shake his head as he reached for it on the floor.

"That was amazing." Sherlock turns sharply to stare at him and Lestrade realizes there is anger and something else in Sherlock's expression. He is reminded of John and sighs. "I just meant, I'd never have gotten in there as quickly and unnoticed."

"Obviously." Sherlock is still looking at him and Lestrade shrugs.

"I've haven't been up close and not treated like an idiot in a while, leave me be." Sherlock seems to, but glances at him again as he walks away and Lestrade wonders, truly wonders, how much Sherlock has been missing John.

"Someone came in here and had you draw the number eight on this ball, what can you tell me?" The man looks up and glances at the ball.

"Why do you want to know?" Lestrade watches Sherlock shift from Sherlock to someone else.

"Well, I've uh," he looked away and then back to the employee. "I've been playing football for a bit now, and I just got a present from a secret admirer with my number on it. Needless to say" Sherlock stammered and the man smiled.

"It was a man about this tall, blonde. He seemed really proud of himself when he was getting it."

"Thank you!" Sherlock gushed and the man held up a hand.

"He was a bit older though, just to let you know."

"John." And Sherlock's façade is gone, but it doesn't matter, because the way he says his name causes the man to grin.

"You know him, then? I wish you two the best." Obviously a romantic, Lestrade can see why Sherlock played the secret admirer card.

"Oddly enough, he's not the first to get that ball with an 8 on it." Sherlock steps forward. "Who else?" The man narrows his eyes and Lestrade pulls out his badge behind Sherlock's back. The man closes his eyes and shrugs, "A young kid, one of those gangbangers."

"Can you tell us anything else?"

"Kinda gangly looking, I think he had red hair."

"Thanks." Lestrade says but Sherlock is still looking at the ball.

"How long ago do you think John let go?" Sherlock asks as he twisted the ball in his fingers, Lestrade frowns and the other looks heart broken, but Sherlock walks away before either of them could answer.

Sherlock only agrees to ride with Lestrade because it's not a squad car and they make their way over to the apartment complex. They start the short walk and Lestrade lifts the phone to his ear.

"Donavan?" He pauses and Sherlock doesn't stop walking. "There are drug signs all over the place, call Williams and Rodriquez." He hangs up. "Sherlock! Wait!" He starts running again. "We have to wait for narcotics to get here." Sherlock turns and offers a smile.

"I don't have to wait."

"Sherlock." Lestrade stressed the name and Sherlock turns.

"This isn't your case, it's mine." Sherlock stops at Lestrade's gaze. "It must be so boring, following your rules, doing every case the same way." Lestrade plants his feet and sticks his hands in his pockets.

"This has nothing to do with the drugs." Sherlock insists and Lestrade doesn't move. "The admirer! The 8!" Lestrade scrunches his face in confusion and Sherlock throws his arms forward as if he could just throw the knowledge into him. "The 8!"

"I know this all seems rather obvious to you," Sherlock groans out before Lestrade finishes the thought.

"Think! Why can't you people just think?!" Lestrade expression turns angry but it shifts into resignation and Sherlock shakes his head.

"This is a low income neighborhood. The poor boy who got the ball didn't get it for himself so whom? Ah yes, the girl on the team he likes. He knows her number, relatively expensive gift. She wouldn't touch drugs so why would he? Think!"

"This has to do with her secret admirer then." Sherlock quirks his lips.

"I'm not so sure its secret."

"So let's find him, together." Sherlock narrows his eyes.

"I'm not letting you put me on a leash." Lestrade crosses his arms.

"And I'm not your assistant."

Sherlock needs an assistant. He looks away and then back to Lestrade before huffing. Lestrade holds his ground, he's here to help and be helped but he is not a replacement for John and he doesn't want to be.

"It must be so simple for you and your dogs." Sherlock sneers and Lestrade's face doesn't change. "Your masters make rules and you follow them." Sherlock turns away from him and keeps walking and shakes his head at the sentiment that seems to take him over.

"If anything it's their desire not to be involved in the drugs or gangs that got them in trouble." He says to the football, once they're out of Lestrade's earshot.

Brilliant.

Sherlock shakes his head as he schools a desperate look of running late on his face so that the woman coming out of the complex holds the door out for him. You truly can get in anyplace at just the right time.

He's got until noon tomorrow, but he's going to solve it today.