We're almost done, just one more chapter! If anyone has any suggestions for my next big fic, please tell!
John fumbled for his phone. The tall man was the only one who ever texted him.
Meet me at my flat. 221B Baker Street.
John wondered what this could be about; he doubted the man would reveal his location without good reason.
Greg Lestrade looked down at the box in his hands. He shouldn't do this; giving Sherlock an automatic weapon was a terrible idea. God knows Sherlock was already irresponsible enough with that pistol of his, shooting it into the wall whenever he was bored. Greg knocked on the door to Sherlock's flat, waiting for him to answer.
"It's open!" a voice rang out from the dark flat, inviting Greg in. Greg pushed open the door, looking at the tall, thin man lying on his couch. "Hello John! Nice of you to join me."
"Sorry to disappoint, but it's Greg." Sherlock seemed surprised by this.
"Well, come in Greg! By the way, I saw your wife yesterday." Sherlock finally rose of his couch to look at Greg. "She was holding hands with a gym teacher." Greg threw the box on the ground and stormed off, fuming at Sherlock's laughs.
When he arrived at the building, a frail woman guided him to the man's apartment door. "Sherlock, someone's here to see you!" She cried, pounding on his door. Sherlock. John thought to himself. What a strange name. The man opened the door, looking straight past the woman to John.
"Hello John!" Sherlock seemed genuinely pleased to see him. "I just have a little package for you to take home." The man looked over to the old woman, who was still standing next to the door. Annoyed, he shooed her away. The old woman quickly disappeared down the stairs.
Sherlock walked into his flat and grabbed a large box. Opening it, he allowed John to see its contents. John stared in wonder at a rifle and a kevlar vest. Five large magazines were stacked neatly inside. He thought about the damage he could do with this, the carnage he could inflict. This was perfect.
"You'll have the most success if you do it Sunday at four." John turned his gaze to Sherlock. "The man in charge of your investigation will be there, right next to the front doors." Sherlock gave him a photograph of an aging man in a suit, looking straight at the camera. Sherlock was in the photo as well, looking uncomfortable as the other man smiled and put his arm around him.
"Why should I not kill you? I have everything I want from you." John was excited by the idea of finally being out of Sherlock's influence.
"It would be very ambitious of you. You wouldn't be the only one who's tried." Sherlock pointed loosely to the skull on his mantle. "Ask Irene over there how that turned out for her." John hurried out of the man's flat. The man's laughter chased him all the way into the street.
Lestrade, I've got the killer. Meet me at Bosworth Mall at 4:00
-SH
Finally, the remedy to Lestrade's problems. Lestrade thought about the possible promotion, the pay raise, his coworkers looking up to him again… It was nearly too good to be true.