The next chapter! I hope you like it, please let me know!

I don't own the characters or places!

"You're grinning." John noted when they got out of the car in Kensington. "And you look excited." That were never good signs. "Do you think there's more behind this case?"

"Only one way to find out, John." Sherlock said simply and took his hand, nearly pulling him towards the building. However, he stopped when they got closer and grimaced, letting Greg take the lead instead.

Sergeant Donovan was waiting for them in front of the house. It was old and looked elegant from the outside. Most probably, living here was very expensive. From all the cars around them, as well as the things John could see through the windows of the first floor, he was right about that.

"It's good that you're here and bring... reinforcements." Sergeant Donovan said quickly when she noticed that John narrowed his eyes at her. "This way." She turned around without waiting for Greg's answer and led them into the building. Once she vanished inside the house, John sighed.

"I really wish you would have others in your team." He muttered and followed Sherlock, who was in a hurry now.

"She isn't that bad." Greg whispered. "At least one person in my team I can trust to do a good job."

"I don't like the way she looks at Sherlock." John sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"You didn't even like that back when he first took you to a crime scene." His expression turned to amused for a few moments. "And you weren't even friends then. Let alone together."

"Don't start telling me once more that I was just too blind to notice how important Sherlock is to me." John warned his best friend. "We've had this discussion dozens of times by now."

"You know that I can hear you, right?" Sherlock interrupted them quietly, but from the tone of his voice, John knew that he was smiling.

"I love you." John kissed his boyfriend's cheek before they entered the flat of the victim. Andrews, a small sign at the door said.

"Who exactly is he?" John asked no one in particular when they entered the flat. Everything in here looked like a designer had chosen it. Black floors, white walls and fitting furniture also in black and white. Everything was very modern and he also noticed that it seemed to be really clean. Nothing seemed to be out of place. The flat was bigger than expected, he realized when Sergeant Donovan led them to the living room.

"He's working at a bank close by." A man John didn't know explained, looking at a file in his hands. "Jeremy Andrews. 37 years old, also born here in London. In Soho. He's single. His parents are dead, but he has a little sister. She's living in Australia."

"That's not much information." Sherlock, who's already knelt down next to the body on the bed, muttered and gestured for John to come closer as well. John did so more slowly, looking at the man thoughtfully. Black, short hair, a beard and brown skin. He wasn't sure if it came from lots of time in the sun or if the tan was fake. Tall and muscular. He was wearing pyjamas, so most probably, he'd died in his sleep. From the outside, no signs of violence could be seen. Greg also stepped next to him, a dark look on his face.

"I wasn't finished yet." The police officer who had been reading from the file muttered. "There's more about him."

"Does he have enemies?" Sherlock asked while he kept looking at the body. John also had a closer look at him.

"Enemies?" The man repeated slowly.

"Yes, enemies." Greg threw in. "Did he have a fight with someone? Was someone holding grudges? All of that, Brandon." From the sound of his voice, John could tell that he was annoyed. "The general information can also be important, but we need more than that."

"At least he didn't mess up the crime scene this time." Sherlock muttered and when John looked up, he saw that the cheeks of the police officer had turned bright red. He smiled at him understandingly before turning back to his work.

"I think I can help with that question." Sergeant Donovan said. "I've talked to his co-workers. Some of them are also his close friends. Apparently, it's always important to him to do a good job. They describe him as a perfectionist. He's also very ambitious. He didn't have enemies at work, even if he got a little annoyed every time one of the others was working too slow or made mistakes. He told them about it then, but he never showed his anger. Though they all knew that it's there." She shook her head. "His friends liked him very much. He seemed to be a nice guy."

"So no enemies at work or in his direct surroundings so far." Greg concluded.

"Yes, but they also mentioned something else." She threw in. "You might recognize it from the old lady."

This caught all their attention. "Did he also seem scared?" John asked curiously.

She nodded. "Very much so." Sergeant Donovan explained. "Though he never told anyone why. Even his best friend didn't know about it."

"I want to talk to him." Sherlock said and stood up immediately. "The body doesn't show any signs for the death. What do you think, John?"

John stepped next to him and shook his head. "Nothing from the outside." He confirmed. "I think we'll have to wait for Molly's opinion to that."

"Good idea. She also looked at the old lady." Sherlock nodded. "Lestrade?"

"We'll make sure it happens as fast as possible." He waved at one of his men who began to talk to someone on the phone.

"It would be much easier if we had the results from the first body." John muttered. "Then we might know what to look for."

"Or we wouldn't." Sherlock pointed out. "If whoever did this is very good, like I think, he'll have hidden everything perfectly well. Now where's the best friend?"

"Waiting downstairs." Donovan explained. "He refused to leave after we questioned him."

Something lit up in Sherlock's eyes, but John didn't know exactly what it was. "Was he the one who found him?"

She nodded. "He's got a key to the flat."

"Interesting. Let's talk to him. Come on, John. Lestrade." Before they could even say something, Sherlock was on his way downstairs again.

"I think he suspects something." John said when they followed him.

"This should better be good." Greg muttered. "Actually, I wanted to have a look at the flat together with the others."

"You don't trust your team?"

Greg sighed. "Brandon is still new and makes mistakes. Someone has to keep an eye on him."

"The messed up crime scene."

"Exactly."

"Come on, you two! We don't have all day!" Sherlock's voice echoed through the stairwell, making John and Greg hurry to follow the detective. When they arrived outside, they saw Sherlock walking towards a man who was sitting on a stone in front of the house determinedly.

The man seemed to be in the same age as Jeremy Andrews, though he was the complete opposite from the other man. Not tall, skinny with no visible muscles, red hair and freckles, together with thick black glasses. His shoulders were slumped and he looked incredibly tired and sad. From the distance, John couldn't tell exactly what he was holding in his hands, but he suspected that it was a photograph. He kept staring at it.

When the three of them got closer, the man looked up with a sigh. "I already answered all your questions." He muttered and John corrected himself. He wasn't just sad, he was completely devastated.

"Not ours." Sherlock corrected him firmly. When the man recognized Sherlock, his eyes widened and flickered to John.

"You're Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." He breathed out.

"Indeed." Sherlock agreed. "So would you answer our questions as well?" It was strange to see Sherlock being so... gentle with someone. For a few moments, John wondered why. But then Sherlock's eyes flickered to him and suddenly, John understood.

"You haven't just been his best friend." He said before he could stop himself.

The man nodded hesitantly. "My name's Tony." He introduced himself. "And it's true. Jeremy and I have been together for a few years by now." He closed his eyes and tears ran down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry for your loss." John whispered and suddenly, Sherlock was standing right next to him and took John's hand.

"We all are." Sherlock added. "Do you feel ready for a few questions? It might help us to find out who did this to him."

"You think someone did it?" Tony looked up again, rubbing his eyes behind the glasses.

"We can't be sure yet." Greg threw in. "But the possibility is there."

"Ask them. Your questions." Tony stood up slowly and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You found him because you're living with him." Sherlock said, though it wasn't a question.

Tony nodded. "I moved in last year. It has been a big decision, though we decided not to make it public yet. We were afraid that others might not understand it."

"Your parents, for example?"

After a short hesitation, the man nodded. "They never liked Jeremy that much."

"Why?" Greg wanted to know.

"Because he's a man and I liked him too much for their liking." He sighed.

"So nothing happened between them." Greg noted.

"God, no! Jeremy was the nicest person in the world. At work, he always tried to do his best and it angered him when others didn't do that. But he could have never hurt anyone."

"You said he seemed scared lately." John threw in. "Do you know why?"

"Unfortunately, no." Tony closed his eyes. "It started half a year ago. From one day to another, he checked if the door to the flat was locked three times. When we were outside, he kept looking around from time to time, just like he was expecting someone to follow us. Even at work he kept looking at everyone around more closely than usual. There had been this tension in him I couldn't explain. Every time I asked him about it, he told me that it was fine. It was obvious that those were all lies. He wasn't fine. Not at all." Again, tears started to run down his cheeks. "I wanted to help him so badly. I tried to convince him that it was good to talk to someone. That he should seek help. But he refused repeatedly. He was also reading very much, something he hated to do outside work. There was this book he never left out of sight. Every time I asked about that, he got angry and hid it from me. That wasn't like him at all."

"It got worse with time?" John guessed and Tony nodded.

"Very much. Last week, I thought he was going to be sick. He didn't want to leave the house anymore to go to work."

"And you never once considered calling the police?" Greg asked incredulously.

"He said he was just sick..." Tony looked at his feet.

"Unfortunately, I have to admit that Lestrade is right about this." Sherlock threw in. "You should have asked someone for help."

"He would have never forgiven me if I'd gotten involved in all this."

"Did he tell you that?" John narrowed his eyes.

Tony nodded silently. "He always got angry then."

John exchanged a look with Sherlock and Greg. "Apparently, something was going on and he wanted to keep you out of it." John said after a while. "We will find out what it is, I promise." To his surprise, Tony moved forward and hugged John tightly when he said this, whispering 'Thank you' many times.

John held him and while he did, his eyes found Sherlock's. There was thoughtfulness in them, but something else John couldn't quite place as well. He decided to ask Sherlock about it once they were back at 221 B.

The rest of the day, they looked at Jeremy Andrews' flat and tried to find out more about his death. However, nothing seemed to be there. The flat was very clean, just like someone had tried to make everything look normal. Too normal. Even Tony confirmed that it had never been this clean inside.

After that, John and Sherlock visited Molly at the morgue. She was happy to see them, but didn't have any news yet. The results from the lab for the old lady would arrive the next day and it would take some time to look at Andrews' body. In the end, she sent them away.

To be honest, John was glad about it. He nearly pulled Sherlock to a cab that brought them back to Baker Street. On their way, they got some food at a shop close by. Once inside, they both ate silently. Sherlock had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since they talked to Tony.

After cleaning up, John couldn't stand it anymore. "Will you tell me what's going on?" He asked quietly and sat down next to his boyfriend on the couch.

"You won't believe me that everything's fine." Sherlock noted.

John shook his head. "Nope." He took Sherlock's hands. "Is it because of what happened?"

"I never thought that it could happen so fast." Sherlock whispered after lots of hesitation. "That you can lose someone so quickly."

"Sherlock..." John didn't know what to say to this.

"Once I realized that they had been a couple, I couldn't stop thinking of you, John." Sherlock admitted quietly. "And I wondered what I'd do if it was you. If I'd lost you."

He swallowed and placed his hands on Sherlock's cheeks when his boyfriend refused to look at him. "I'm fine, Sherlock. And you won't lose me." John whispered and forced Sherlock to look at him. "I love you and I'll always be there for you."

"You say that now." Sherlock muttered. "But only today I realized how many times I'd nearly lost you before. And it scares me."

"Stop thinking about it." John kissed him. "I'm here now. We're together and we're both fine."

Sherlock swallowed. "John..."

"Don't." He silenced Sherlock with yet another kiss and buried his hands in the detective's hair. "Stay here in this moment with me, Sherlock."

For half a second, Sherlock stiffened and John already feared that his boyfriend would argue, but then he sighed and wrapped his arms around John's waist tightly. Their kisses were soft first, but turned more heated soon. John tried to put all the love he felt for the detective into the kiss and hoped that Sherlock would realize it. When they parted, both breathing heavily, Sherlock smiled knowingly.

"I love you too, John." He got to his feet and held out his hand. John followed him to the bedroom with a smile on his lips. He let Sherlock take control that time, knowing that the other man would need it. They both needed it.

When Sherlock pushed John down onto the mattress, he placed a kiss on the scar on John's chest. "Please promise me to be careful, John."

"I'm always careful. But I promise." John said seriously. "Only if you also won't take unnecessary risks. That includes not going after Moriarty alone, Sherlock."

Sherlock hesitated for half a second, but then he nodded. "Alright."

"We're in this together." John reminded him. "We're a team, remember?"

"I could never forget that, John." Sherlock's eyes were shining when he smiled widely. Then his lips moved further south, first kissing the scar again, then above his heart and deeper... That's when the time to talk was over and John's head fell back onto the cushions with a sigh.

Once they were both completely spent and began to cuddle under the sheets, John closed his eyes. It still amazed him that Sherlock Holmes loved him. Most probably, he would never get used to the thought. He also loved him with all his heart. It was so incredible that they could just lie here together, arms wrapped around each other. He enjoyed those peaceful evenings with Sherlock the most, though they were rare. The detective didn't like doing nothing that much. Maybe this would be an exception...

Suddenly, Sherlock gasped and sat up in bed. "We need to leave, John!" He announced loudly.

John stared at him and held back a sigh. "Why?"

"We missed something!" Sherlock exclaimed and already climbed out of bed to look for his clothes. "I've been thinking about the case again and -"

"You've been in your mind palace to think of the case again right after we had sex?" John crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. His dreams of a relaxed, peaceful evening were fading quickly.

"Actually, I wanted to be able to remember what we just did whenever I feel like it." Sherlock smiled slightly and winked at John, which made him feel a little better again. "That's when I noticed that we missed something."

With a sigh, John stood up and got dressed as well. "What did we miss?"

"I'll be sure once we're in Andrews' flat." Sherlock said simply and John knew him well enough not to ask questions. Wouldn't be of any use.

Sherlock reached for his phone. "Lestrade, we need you at the victim's flat in fifteen minutes." He said without even saying hello. "I don't care that you wanted to watch a movie, this is important!" He ended the call and put the phone in his pocket. "Come on, John. It's urgent!"

John had just enough time to put on a warm jacket before he followed Sherlock out of their flat. It was already getting dark outside and he wondered what could be so important that they had to look at it now.

They arrived at Andrews' flat exactly fifteen minutes after Sherlock called Greg. The DI was already waiting for them in front of the house, an annoyed expression on his face. "What is so important that it can't wait until tomorrow?" Greg wanted to know when he let them inside.

"We'll see." Sherlock muttered and once they were in the flat, he looked around. "We need to find a place to hide something small. A book, most probably. Somewhere even someone who lives here wouldn't look."

John and Greg exchanged a look, but they began to help Sherlock with his search. While he was looking at everything closely, John noticed once more how clean it was. "Who would search for something and clean up afterwards?" He asked loudly since they'd decided to look for the book in different rooms.

"Someone who had enough time!" Sherlock's voice came from the living room. "This had been perfectly planned."

"Why are we even looking for a book?" Greg wanted to know.

"It was something the boyfriend said." Sherlock explained. "He said that Andrews was reading in a book lately, which was very unusual for him. And that he got angry when Tony asked about it."

"You think it's important?" John threw in.

"Of course it is, John!" Sherlock stated. "Everything is important! And since Lestrade's people didn't find the book this afternoon, it still has to be here somewhere."

"Ever considered that whoever killed him took it?" Greg appeared in the doorway to John's left and raised his eyebrows.

"Then he wouldn't have cleaned up." Sherlock appeared to John's right, arms crossed. "It has to be here somewhere."

"You think he's hidden it before he died?" John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock nodded.

Suddenly, two things happened at once. Greg came closer and leaned against the wardrobe John had just been searching; it was filled with sports stuff. The wardrobe made a grinding sound and many things fell out, a large bag nearly hitting John's head. It only missed him because Sherlock pulled him aside so fast.

The second thing was the sound of shattering glass in what John suspected to be the bathroom. They all froze and looked at each other silently. Sherlock reached for a baseball bat which had fallen out of the wardrobe together with lots of other stuff.

They heard footsteps in the flat which were getting closer slowly. A door opened... just to be followed by silence. John cursed inwardly. The intruder had surely seen the light in the hallway. His eyes met Sherlock's and his boyfriend nodded seriously. John understood.

He turned to Greg and gestured for him to keep looking for the book. Then he pointed at Sherlock and himself and into the direction they'd heard the noise. Greg didn't look happy, but he nodded reluctantly.

John let Sherlock take the lead and followed him quietly. In the hallway, everything seemed to be calm and John noticed that someone had switched off the light. So there really was someone inside the flat.

They entered the hallway back to back, Sherlock had his weapon raised. John wished that he also had something to defend himself, but there was nothing around. He'd also forgotten his gun at Baker Street.

However, a weapon also wouldn't have been necessary. At least not yet. The door closest to the stairwell opened and a person clad in black ran out of the flat. John suspected that it was a man. They didn't hesitate and followed him quickly.

He was fast and jumped down the last steps of the stairs as if it was the easiest thing in the world. John and Sherlock were very close to him, but not able to reach the intruder yet. Once they were outside, the man turned to the right, running in the direction of the Thames. There weren't many people on the streets anymore since it was already dark. After running past a few houses, Sherlock made a gesture John knew quite well. He nodded and doubled his efforts to catch the man.

Sherlock wasn't next to him anymore, but it didn't surprise him. The gesture meant that his boyfriend knew a shortcut. He wasn't sure how Sherlock knew where the man was heading, but he didn't care. Sherlock was rarely wrong about those things.

They rounded a few more houses and once, the man even jumped over a fence, making John curse loudly when he followed him. He wasn't sure if he just imagined it, or did the steps of the man falter when he cursed? He decided that he'd just imagined it.

Every time they got closer to a street with lots of traffic, the man in front of him changed the direction. His main destination was still the Thames, but they were only getting closer slowly. John tried to breathe regularly while he was running and wondered why Sherlock didn't show up yet. He could really need his help, otherwise he'd never catch that man. He was taller than John and to him, it seemed as if all this running didn't even exhaust him in the slightest.

Suddenly, the man turned to the left and when John wanted to cross the street to follow him, the sound of a car made him step back quickly. The driver opened the window and shouted something, but John had already started running again and couldn't make out the words. From what he'd seen, the man had turned into a dark alleyway, but he couldn't be sure. He decided to take the risk and run into that street.

Apparently, the street lamps in this part of the city were defect or turned off. It was dark and again, John wished that he had his gun. He'd only taken about ten steps into the alleyway when something clicked behind him. He knew that sound too well. It was a gun.

He was about to turn around slowly, his heart beating wildly in his chest, when another sound echoed through the silence. A very unpleasant sound.

The man fell to the ground and behind him stood another person. Tall, pale skin, wearing a long coat. The baseball bat in his hand fell to the ground with a thud. "John, are you alright?" Sherlock demanded to know, closing the distance between them and scanning him for possible injuries.

"I'm fine." John muttered, still breathing heavily from the chase through this part of the city. "But you should have helped me a little sooner." He noticed that Sherlock also was out of breath.

"You mean before you gave him the chance to point at you with this gun?" He kicked the weapon aside. "Let's find out who he is."

John nodded and together, they knelt down next to the man. When Sherlock pulled the mask from his head and they could see the face of the intruder, they exchanged a look.

"Oh no." John muttered quietly, while Sherlock just stood up and crossed his arms.

Any ideas who the man might be? Let me know! :)