PLEASE READ

My laptop had a seizure and had to be repaired. I haven't had it for, what, 3 months? AND THEN my account had a nervous fit so it's all been a bit higgledy piggledy at the mo. I actually know what is going to happen now but I keep forgetting to write it up!

R

...

'I don't know.'

'what?'

'I honestly don't know! Do you ever know with him?'

'But you're his flatmate,' Lestrade picked up an apple from the bowl on the coffee table and took a bight. With his mouth full, he continued 'you're supposed to know these things...' he put a hand on his side and skimmed his eyes around the room. John pulled a frustrated face and ran his fingers through his hair, undoubtedly not for the first time that day.

'If I knew, I would've told you by now, don't you think? If I knew I would have stopped him.'

'No one stops the illustrious Sherlock Holmes, John.' Lestrade almost smirked. Why wasn't he taking this seriously? What could possibly be so funny for him to giggle...

At a crime scene...

John looked desperately for something to give him inspiration for words, but nothing, no matter how many damned things were in the flat, could have given him the right trigger. The only thing he could think of was the packet of lonely, half empty cigarettes lying helplessly on the floor like a ladybird which had been overturned onto its back.

He frowned. They were hidden. They were hidden in Mrs. Hudson's flat downstairs. How the hell-?

'Well, you'd better clear off. I'm calling in the forensic team-' Lestrade started, chomping on the apple and turning his phone on. He seemed far too relaxed about the situation.

'I don't think I will. This is my flat. I'll go and see him later!'

'Good on you.' He gave a quick, uncommitted smile and then focused back on his phone. He then looked up and gave the skull on the mantelpiece a stare 'I mean, he'd only want you to go and see him now: weep over his lifeless body, hold his hand, and say your goodbyes-'

'Shut up, Greg,'

'Nah, I'm serious! He's a prick!' he laughed sceptically. John really was NOT in the mood for his happy-go-lucky attitude. Why was this like comedy to him? He grabbed his jacket off the back of the sitting room door and began to shrug it on.

'Oh, no pun intended of course.' He grinned, but the look on John's face signified him to don a serious tone once more.

'John, stop. Listen to me, right,' Lestrade held his hand out to stop him from heading towards the door. 'No one can deny that he's brilliant,' Lestrade looked like he really wanted to deny it 'but sometimes he's a class A, 24 carat prat and nothing can change that. You want to know why I'm laughing? Because he's done this before.' He said, almost bored with the conversation, as though it as too familiar with him. 'That's why they all look at him funny whenever he comes in to the station. He's a genius, but they all know that he did something stupid, and people like Donovan won't let him live it down.'

John froze. He had always assumed Sherlock went into Scotland Yard so he could show off or make such a reappearance in a way that people treated him as their god or something. Sherlock acted irate when he was there at the best of times, which is what John thought he was doing deliberately, but he never realised that Sherlock really hated it.

John exhaled heavily and relaxed his posture. 'don't call the forensics in. It'll only get Anderson excited that he's gone and done it again. I'll help you look around. It is my flat, after all. As long as you don't tell.'

'You're not trained.'

'I don't need to be or want to be. It's quite obvious what he's done, and all we need to do now is find our evidence.'

'I think I should at least get one person from the squad in though.'

'Someone that doesn't know where he lives, what he's done in the past or has never met him,'

'That'll be hard.' Lestrade snorted

'Well, if you can't manage that then no one comes in here apart from us and Mrs. Hudson.'

...

I will always reply to your reviews by the way, do any of you lot like Pride and Prejudice? Just wondering...