OH HEY IT'S ME AGAIN!

what do you care? You don't you're just here for the story.

usually I have loads to talk about, but I'm tired and listening to a johnlock playlist and I'm going to go cry...

ok bbbbyyyyyyyeee!

Chapter Three

John put on a face as him and Mike walked into the room. He looked around and smirked a bit, "Well, bit different from my day." He muttered under his breath.

Thankfully, Mike joined in and chuckled a bit, "You've no idea."

John's brain was just spinning because Sherlock was standing right in front of him, in the flesh! It was ridiculous yet brilliant at the same time.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone?" Sherlock said without looking up.

Mike glanced at John who shook his head once. He looked back at Sherlock and shook his head, "Sorry, mate. I left it in my office..."

John pulled his fake one out and bounced it in his hands a bit, "You can use mine if you need..." John watched in amazement as Sherlock blinked in utter shock. He could tell that Sherlock was confused, but he shook it off and stood up.

"Oh, well thank you..." He walked over and snatched the phone before smirking a bit as he typed away, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" He hummed without looking up.

John had to force everything in his power to not grin like a madman. This was actually working! He wanted to grin... He wanted to grin so bad because he knew it was amazing to be experiencing this, but instead he frowned a bit and furrowed his brow. "Sorry..?"

Sherlock sighed impatiently and John could tell he was just resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "Which is it? Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan... And how did you know that?" He smirked even though he most definitely knew and he would get to hear the deduction process in action. He was thrumming in anticipation, but just as Sherlock opened his mouth to speak Molly walked in. John wanted to growl, but instead he just clenched his hand against his cane a bit tighter.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that, but waved it off and handed John's phone back. He was probably angry with Sherlock's forwardness or he was just in pain, "Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you." He smiled some as he grabbed the coffee and turned around. He took a sip and grimaced because Molly's coffee making skills were horrid, but he needed the caffeine. He had been up for three straight days and he was hoping he would be able to go to sleep tonight. He was so close to solving his current case. He went back to his microscope and then peered into the top, "How do you feel about the violin?"

John blinked a bit and frowned, was he talking to him? That was certainly not what he was expecting to come out of Sherlock's mouth, "I'm sorry, what?"

Sherlock didn't look up when he answered John, "I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days..." He paused and hesitated a bit as he looked at John finally, "Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

John wanted to grin so badly and yell at the top of his lungs, but he held his ground. Oh yes, Sherlock was definitely brilliant, "And who said anything about being flatmates?" he raised an eyebrow.

Sherlock hummed and stood up, "I did. I was talking to Mike this morning about how my flatmate just left me and how it would most likely take me months to find another one... I can be a rather difficult man to live with, but now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, who clearly just came home from his military services in Afghanistan and needed a flat share... it really wasn't that difficult of a leap."

John sighed, "Yes, and how did you know about Afghanistan?" Come on! Come on! Show me how brilliant you are!

Sherlock ignored him though as he wrapped his scarf around his neck, "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we should be able to afford it."

Ha! I could afford it by myself thank you very much.

"We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry, I've got to dash... I think I may have left my riding crop in the mortuary..." He frowned a bit and headed for the door.

"Is that it then?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Is what it then?" He frowned and stopped.

"We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we are meeting; I don't even know your name." He grumbled and narrowed his eyes a bit. Deduce me, you twat!

Sherlock paused and narrowed his eyes a bit and then stepped closer with his head cocked to the side. "I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him – possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic – quite correctly, I'm afraid."

John's breath caught in his throat and he swallowed as he shifted on his cane. He looked away for a second, all for the act of course, but on the inside he was screaming because Sherlock had picked up every single thing that john had fed him and that was such an amazing thing to witness.

"That's enough to be going on, don't you think?" He hummed and walked to the door where he opened it and started walking out. He stopped and poked his head back in where he smirked at john, "The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." He clicked his mouth and winked at John before nodding, "Afternoon!" and with that he left.

John waited for a full minute before he looked at Mike and broke out into a wide grin, "Did you fucking see that? That was amazing!" He snickered and spun his cane around a bit. "I cannot wait for tomorrow! Ready to go home?" he hummed.

Mike took a sharp breath and nodded, "Yep." John might not be able to see what was about to happen, but Mike could and it about broke his heart. He had never seen John so happy before and Sherlock was the cause of that… he shook his head and walked out with John.

~O~

John stood outside the door of 221B Baker Street and waited for Sherlock. He was actually a bit worried he wasn't going to show up and then what the hell would John do? But before he could doubt it anymore Sherlock climbed out of the cab and John grinned.

"Afternoon, Mr. Holmes," John smiled happily as Sherlock took off his glove and then reached forward to shake John's hand.

"Oh, please." He smiled brightly as his hand slid into John's, "Call me Sherlock and its rather night than afternoon, isn't it?" he hummed and smirked as he pulled away and went to go knock on the door.

John stood there happily and looked at Sherlock. God, he was something else, "So... How did you find this place?" He wanted to talk to him, get to know his weaknesses.

"The Landlady owes me a favour... back in Florida about eight years ago I helped her out with her husband's execution." He hummed.

John wanted to roll his eyes because of course a goody two shoes like Sherlock would help someone out who was supposed to be on death row, "So you stopped the execution?" He asked a bit with his eyes wide.

Sherlock got in evil little glint in his eye and John wondered if this man had a small dark side, "Oh no, John... I ensured it." He hummed.

John about choked on air, but managed to keep a calm face. Thankfully, the attention was diverted off of him because the door had opened up and an older woman was standing there squealing and hugging Sherlock. He had not been expecting Sherlock to say that and the fact that Sherlock did was incredibly surprising. He imagined Sherlock to be someone who would cry themselves to sleep at night if someone died and he couldn't 'save' them. He acted like he didn't give a shit on the telly, sure, but John thought that that was just an act... Maybe he didn't know everything he thought he did about this man after all.

Sherlock spoke with the lady for a while and then they were being ushered inside. Apparently her name was Mrs. Hudson and she seemed rather nice. He was glad he didn't have to kill her because he hated killing old people... He would do it when he had to, but he hated it and there was no satisfaction in it. John Watson was a man of torture. He loved the feeling of blood rushing over his hands and getting all over his body, in his hair, on his suits, the smell of metallic, the taste of copper when it splattered onto his lips. He loved hearing the screams and begs and he loved playing god. He got to choose whether they lived or died and he always chose the latter. Always. But he would never do that to the elderly... It hurt too much and he was pretty sure he had Mrs. Turner to thank for that. He did kill them because money was money and he wasn't going to be labelled as some weakling because he didn't off an elder, but he wouldn't torture them. Always clean and fast and quick so that they never felt a thing.

John knew he was messed up and he knew he had a problem. It kept him awake most nights in all honesty because the smell and taste of blood should not be something that he got off on, but he did. It wasn't something anyone, but mental people got off on and that made him feel broken. Growing up was hard because he felt so lost with the things he felt and the things he wanted to do, but he couldn't help feel this way. It was like an itch and it wouldn't go away unless he gave into it, so he compromised... He only tortured and killed people that other people wanted dead, granted it wasn't a good compromise, but it was a compromise nonetheless.

They walked inside and John wrinkled his nose, "Bit messy..." John was used to his place being spotless. He hated messes and he was glad his character was from the army because that could explain his slight OCD for messes...

Sherlock swallowed and started picking up piles of papers and just putting them in another spot that didn't help the cleanliness factor at all. "Yes, well, I can- umm- clean it up a bit." He nodded and smiled at John.

John couldn't help but smile a bit because the fact that Sherlock was trying to make a friend was really endearing to him... of course he would regret that decision in the end, but John would let him have his moment. He limped over to the mantel and peered at all of the random objects. He smirked when he saw a real human skull because he had a human skull in his bedroom. It was from his first killing and though he probably shouldn't have taken it he did.

"Oh! That's a friend!" Sherlock grinned brightly and then winced because John would now think he was mental! "Well... I say friend." He gave a slight smile and swallowed... it didn't exactly clear the awkwardness, but it was better than Sherlock stating that that was basically his only friend.

John smirked a bit when Sherlock wasn't looking, he walked over to the red chair, and sat down. He took everything in around the flat and even though it was small it could be very nice. He might get anxiety with the mess, but he could clean it. The thought almost killed him because he hadn't had to pick up a mess in years... ever since his parents dropped him off at the orphanage Mrs. Turner always did it and then he had servants and maids for the messes he made now... Although, if it was any consolation, John didn't make messes because he hated them so much, but he was living a different life for the moment and he supposed he could deal with it for a short period of time.

John slowly stood up and walked about the flat more when Mrs. Hudson appeared, "Well, since there's two of you, there's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing it." She hummed and smirked at Sherlock who flushed.

Ah, so he is gay... or not. It would still need a bit of research because if he wasn't into men this would make his task a lot harder, but so far God seemed to be on his side. John frowned and cocked his head to the side. He furrowed his brows in confusion, "Of course we'll be needing two..."

"Oh! Don't even worry about it! We've got all sorts 'round here and Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones!" She hummed happily.

John froze a bit and he really hoped it didn't show... he didn't really hear anything she said after 'Mrs. Turner', but she seemed to keep talking. He wandered over and sat down again as his brain whirled with thought... surely it couldn't be the same one could it? He was over reacting because there was probably many 'Turners' in the world. He sighed and shook his head to clear his thoughts just as Sherlock was jumping up and down. John blinked rapidly because he was jumping around the room in an excited fashion and John wondered what he could have possibly missed...

John just stared at him blankly and Sherlock sighed, "Four suicides and now a note! Oh, this Is Christmas! Brilliant!" He flailed around and grabbed his coat and scarf.

A silver haired man came into the room and he and Sherlock talked back and forth about some bloke named Anderson, but John wasn't really paying that much attention. Before he knew what was happening the silver man left and Sherlock was running out the door, "Mrs. Hudson I won't be home until later! John don't wait up." He hummed and then was out of the flat.

Mrs. Hudson smiled, "I'll make you tea, dear, but just remember that this is a onetime thing... I'm not your house keeper, but you should rest your leg."

"DAMN MY LEG!" He growled and then blinked. His leg didn't even hurt... he was surprised at how easy it was to fall into character and then stay there. He slowly stood up and then Sherlock rounded on him from absolutely no where. He frowned, "I thought you left..."

"Yes, well, forgot my... gloves." He lied and quickly held up his gloves.

John wanted to smirk because he knew Sherlock was lying, but Army John wouldn't have known so he kept a blank face. "Ah, those are important..."

Sherlock hummed and nodded, "You're a Doctor. In fact you're an Army doctor. Any good?" He pursed his lips and stepped closer.

John imagined that if he had ever actually joined the army he would be very good so he nodded once and straightened his body, "Very good."

Sherlock made a sound in the back of his throat, "So you've seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths."

John swallowed because that part was true... he'd seen tons of violent deaths the only difference was, was that he was the cause of them all, "Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much," However, that statement was false because John definitely didn't think it was far too much... not for him anyway.

Sherlock smirked at him and he wondered just what he had gotten himself into, "Wanna see some more?"

John's heart fluttered and he didn't know why, but he thought that it was because of the fact that Sherlock probably didn't go inviting random strangers to investigate a crime scene with him. "Oh God, yes!" He nodded quickly and then limped after Sherlock. Sherlock hailed them a cab and they both climbed in. It was silent for a while until Sherlock spoke up again. John was so surprised because John felt like Sherlock wasn't one to just randomly start conversations and although he did start it with, "Alright, you've got questions." John felt like in normal circumstances Sherlock wouldn't be one to care if they had questions or not and that made him feel special. He told himself that this was just purely for work, but there was a tug pulling him towards Sherlock and he tried to push that away. He was just fascinated that was all.

Sherlock deduced everything perfectly – well it would have been perfect had it been true, but it was exactly what John wanted him to say so it was perfect. He was amazed and soon they arrived to the abandoned house where a lady and a man tormented Sherlock... John actually felt bad and swallowed because it reminded him of himself when he was in school and at the orphanage, but he pushed the thought down and soon they were inside.

Sherlock deduced everything about the woman currently lying dead on the floor and John pretended to be amazed. Though he was a bit proud that he was able to deduce it a bit faster than Sherlock... well that wasn't really fair now was it? No, it wasn't considering the fact that he was behind this whole scheme. He already knew everything before they even arrived at the place and before the police had come to Sherlock. Before he walked to Baker Street that night and before he even met Sherlock yesterday. He had been planning this ever since Sebastian had called him. So he supposed that in retrospect he didn't actually deduce it before Sherlock because he already knew it.

Of course, this wasn't his normal way to kill people... He wasn't the one doing it, there was no torture, just words and a pill and then they were gone, but they were people that were wanted dead so thankfully he wasn't breaking his rule. He had to sponsor someone and that was rather annoying because yes, he was getting paid, but then he would just have to give the money to the twat that was working for him! Which was stupid because he was just going to die, but he claimed the money was going to his kids so he supposed that that was acceptable.

He was lost in thought and then Sherlock was running out of the door yelling something about pink and John was so lost... He followed Sherlock and peered over the edge as Sherlock was tugging on his hair explaining everything and then John growled a bit under his breath once Sherlock was gone because the fucking cabby made a mistake! He wasn't paying the cabby to sit on his lazy arse and do nothing! He was paying him to make sure nothing was out of place and that Sherlock wouldn't find him, but apparently that was too hard for the poor little man with an aneurism.

He grumbled to himself and hobbled down the stairs because if he didn't hobble someone would see and then his cover would be blown and he was not having that! Although, he really did hate this limp so he was really hoping something exciting and dangerous would happen soon so that he could 'forget' about it.

He walked outside and hobbled down the street because Sherlock, the bastard that he is, left him! He turned the corner and just thought about not limping anymore because he didn't have Sherlock to see him, but thought better of it because someone else could be watching – someone was always watching. He limped down the street when all of a sudden a bag was getting thrown over his head and he was being shoved into the car, "Oi! Watch it! Let go of me!" he growled as the door slammed shut and peeled away.

"Not a chance," a woman's voice smirked, "You have some explaining to do, Doctor Watson," she hummed.

oooooooooo John's in trouble! I have like seven thousand and one fics to write... umm I'm going to go watch Fargo now... Maybe Tinker Taylor Soldier Spies... Or perhaps Hot Fuzz... well fuck.

I still havent written the next chapter of Tulips and people who read this in one hundred years will be like 'well it's up now!' and this line will just be pointless...

people are going to read my johnlock fics when I'm famous and then I'll be on The Graham Norton Show and he will show this exact line that I'm writing now and I will just cry.

I'll probs forget about the notes and he'll just stubble upon this and laugh because I have a giant obsession with him and his show and johnlock...

#NeverMissedAnEpisodeOfGraham and if I was ever on that show I could die a happy person.

fuck I'm getting carried away... well hope you enjoyed my story!

DEUCES!