Author's note- Please leave a little review if you liked it, it helps me out a lot and gives me the motivation to keep updating. The last chapter was weird, but I think I wanted to get the message across that it really wasn't easy for her. While John and Sherlock could be perceived as overprotective guardians, it's really because they care.

I'm super sorry I haven't updated in ages. I'm in year 11 at school and we are getting a fair amount of homework and revision for GCSE's, it feels like I have no time. I'll do my best to update ASAP though!

Disclaimer- I own nothing, all credit belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the amazing Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.

Chapter 17

Sherlock had found it to be an interesting morning so far; after all, there had been another murder. Oh brilliant! Another murder! And it's even more intriguing than the last. This was his kind of day. On arrival at warehouse two, Lestrade had taken him to the place where a female body had been dumped. Scars littered the displayed skin on her arms, cuts, old and new, mostly shallow were drawn all over her flesh in shades of red and pink. A deep cut to the dead woman's neck and wrists indicated the killing style Sherlock had come to know over the past few days. Luckily for him, the police already knew it was murder, so there would be no 'serial suicide' bullshit argument this time. But either way, the consulting detective wasn't too sure where this was leading to.

Yes of course the killer wanted to torture Lucy, make her suffer and relish in the pain it caused; but this couldn't go on forever. What was the final motive? What was this leading up to? These were the important questions. Whatever new bodies that came along wouldn't really matter anymore, they didn't hold much evidence that would lead them to the killer. Sherlock wondered how this case would end. And thinking about it made him realise that Lucy could hypothetically be in even more serious danger. If it was Lucy that the murderer wanted to torture, then surely it would end with him actually coming to hurt her? Dammit! Sherlock mused as he took a look around the crime scene. He already had an idea who the killer was, although he didn't have sufficient evidence yet. But there was no reason for Sherlock to linger around the warehouses as not much more would be going on there- it was merely an abandoned, deserted place that no-one went to which made it a convenience for the previous night.

From inside his coat pocket, he felt his mobile vibrate, he frowned when he saw John's name on the screen and immediately answered:

"What is it John?"

"Sherlock, oh shit," John's voice wavered.

"What's happened?" Sherlock frowned, "Is it Lucy?"

"Sherlock I swear, I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't even know how it happened." John babbled.

"John, tell me," Sherlock sighed, trying not to get frustrated.

"Lucy's ran off. Well I don't know what you'd call it. She's gone and she didn't tell me why, I didn't even know she had went." He sounded panicked.

"Look John calm down, try calling her. I'm on my way."

"Thanks." Sherlock hung up promptly afterwards and was just about to start towards the main road to hail a cab.

"Sherlock wait!" Gregory Lestrade called, striding towards the detective before he had the chance to leave the warehouse grounds. Sherlock stopped and swung around, meeting the DI halfway. "You almost forgot this." Greg said as he handed him a small box.

"I don't need this," Sherlock muttered.

"You haven't even had a look at it yet," Lestrade frowned. The consulting detective took a breath before removing the lid, already knowing what lay inside.

The silver glint of the metal reflected the shining sun. Sleek, smooth and sharp they lay in the box, seemingly harmless but deadly when in human touch. There were roughly thirty blades of different types all packed into the little black box; razor blades, sharpener blades... Sherlock frowned; all of them were perfectly clean and new except two.

"Two of them have been used," he observed aloud.

"What?" Greg took a closer look.

"Look closer, all of them are varying shades of silver, kept in immaculate condition right?" With a gloved hand, Sherlock carefully withdrew the two razor blades with extreme caution, being careful not to prick himself, "But these two have very faint traces of a rusty brown colour. It's not rust though. That is the distinct colour of dried blood. Most likely four months old judging by the shade." Sherlock shifted the cool metal in his palm, "Both of them have been disinfected recently, as there are odd tiny dots of this dried blood, but clearly the owner of these blades were in a rush to clean them- perhaps the craving to cut was too bad- and therefore never cleaned them properly hence the blood." There was a silence, "But these blades are owned by two different people. One I'm guessing is the woman's inside warehouse two, but the other..." Sherlock's eyes widened, "There will be another murder."

"How do you know they are two different people?" Lestrade queried.

"The blood pattern!" Sherlock said exasperated, "The woman in there didn't cut too deeply, not once, so the blood pattern on the blade will be close to the edge. But on the other blade, the traces of dried blood vary, indicating that they have cut a lot deeper. Conclusion: these two blades belong to two different people."

"And how do you know there will be another murder?" Greg crossed his arms.

"Why else would their blade be left in there?" Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Get a blood analysis on them, fingerprint too!" He added as he handed back the box.

"Uh right," The DI nodded as he took back the blades, "Oh Sherlock, wait, how's Lucy?" Sherlock Holmes hesitated, suddenly remembering that he needed to get back to John to find Lucy.

"Not good," he replied honestly, "I don't really know what to do. Just before you came I received a call from John informing me she'd gone out the house without his knowledge, he's worried as he has no idea where she could have gone." He bit his lip, "Anything could happen, especially considering her vulnerability to this case. I never know what to do with her."

"Maybe she needed some breathing space," Lestrade suggested.

"Look, I don't know, I'm not very good with this stuff." Sherlock sounded annoyed with himself.

"You don't have to be Sherlock, you care, and that's more than enough. You may not know what to say to her, but sometimes just doing a kind gesture is better." Greg smiled as he could see the cogs whirring in the detective's mind as he processed this.

"Uh, thanks," Sherlock said, surprising the DI, "But I really need to get going."

"Its fine Sherlock just let us know if you find anything else."

Back to when Sherlock was relieved when he knew Lucy was safe, he had ended up showing her the body much to her delight. He knew he had to at least try his best to keep her involved, as he had a feeling that she would get involved regardless. There weren't really any theories to discuss, there wasn't any evidence to lead them either way as the only thing they knew was that it was a mockery of the young teenager. Mycroft had stayed for a bit, requesting his brother's time for just a minute.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea," he admitted as he twiddled his umbrella.

"Your heart was in the right place," Sherlock muttered, Mycroft raised an eyebrow, at this the younger brother said: "Oh don't pretend you don't like her Mycroft."

"I care about her is all." The elder Holmes' gave a smile, "I had a sort of duty to look after her, especially if she lives with you."

"Hilarious."

"I would suggest carrying on with not letting her to crime scenes on this particular case, but it's probably best to ensure you know where she is at all times."

"Fine."

"I best be off brother, I'm sure we will see each other soon." Mycroft bid goodbye to John and Lucy before he departed, umbrella in hand.

A silence descended on the flat as Sherlock went off to do an experiment involving ears in the breadbin. John and Lucy sat on the sofa, watching crap TV that neither was really interested in. John awkwardly got up to make everyone a cup of tea, leaving Lucy playing on her phone. It was almost worrying how calm John was being about everything, the young teenager was expecting him to be angry, shouting, but no, his calmness seemed to be far more worrying than anger. Her phone's LED light flashed, silently announcing the arrival of a text message.

Lucy frowned as she looked at it; the message was from an unknown, blocked number and had no signature or gave any indication on who may have sent it. Her blood seemed to run cold and her face visibly paled as she read the text:

Honey, I see how much you enjoyed your little wander today. How about slipping out again at twelve o'clock and meeting me in Regent's Park in that little secluded spot that I saw you walk through?

Looking forward to seeing you sexy. X

P.S don't think about telling your little friends either.

Lucy took a deep breath and put her phone back into her pocket just in time before John placed the cup of tea in front of her. However he hesitated, and looked at her with a frown.

"Are you okay? You seem awfully pale." The doctor frowned as he took her chin in his hand, feeling her forehead.

"I'm fine." Her voice was shaky.

"Lucy..." John said with a concerned frown.

"Honestly John, I'm fine, I think it's just the previous few events catching up on me." She lied.

"Okay, tell me if you need anything," He smiled before sitting down.

Sherlock was watching her with piercing but gentle eyes, unsure whether or not she was telling the whole truth. The teenager caught his eye and gave a small smile as he returned to his experiment.

So tomorrow at twelve... who knew what awaited her.