It had been a few days since the 'incident,' and John wasn't sure how to bring it up to Sherlock. Because, well, sod it all if he wasn't going to talk about it.

John watched his flatmate walk into the kitchen- fully clothed, for once- texting.

"Come, John. Lestrade called. We have a case." There was a bit of excitement in his voice that no one should have in this line of work.

"Are you sure? I could stay home for this one."

"No, come. I'd be lost without my blogger."

His heart fluttered at the thought that Sherlock still needed him- even just to insult. 'At least he still wants you around. You're the only one here who is making this awkward.'

And that seemed true enough. Sherlock never tried to fill the silence with pointless small talk. Never tried to bring up the past.

'That's all it is, right? Just the past? It definitely won't happen again. Sherlock is married to his work.'

But with all his convincing, John only felt worse every time he looked at Sherlock. Yet, he couldn't ignore the sinking in his gut.

"Coming then, John?"

By the time John had caught up, Sherlock was already climbing into a cab.

"It's a serial killer John. Brilliant."

"Brilliant, yes. Why?"

"Haven't you been reading the papers? This is the fifth one, but Lestrade has only just called me. Why?" He continued without waiting for an answer. "Because something is different. He messed up."

There was caution in his voice that told John he wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Messed up? Messed up how? Sherlock!"

Sherlock jumped out of the taxi and ran off towards the crime scene. "Five minutes, John! I'll be back!"

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen... Where was Sherlock?

Finally John got agitated enough to go check. As he walked up to the door of the building, it occurred to him how odd it was that there were no police cars, or police for that matter. 'Something is very very wrong here.'

"Sherlock?" John's voice echoed back to him.

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. "John!" The voice was soft, almost gone, but he knew who it belonged to. John pulled out the gun he kept on him at all times and walked to where he thought he had heard the voice.

When he opened the door to where Sherlock was, he almost fainted.

Sherlock knew something was wrong when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Leave your flat and get in the cab. Tell everyone you're working a case. Bring your mate, but don't let him come inside."

The phone went dead and fell to the floor. Sherlock bent over to pick it up and saw today's newspaper headline.

"Mystery Killer Takes Fourth Body"

It clicked in his head.

Quickly he got dressed and rushed down the stairs. He looking on his phone at all the articles on this case so far. He hesitated a little at telling John about this 'case.' Since what had happened two days ago, he had new- and scary- feelings for John.

How would SHerlock tell him he ran away because he had never felt that way before. That he didn't know how to deal with it. They were going to talk about it- he knew John wouldn't let it go that easily. But Sherlock didn't know how to explain what happened.

"Come, John. Lestrade called. We have a case."

The ride there was full of tension. He told John this serial killer had killer five people- which wasn't totally untrue. He was meant to be the fifth.

'John will save you. He always does.' Which was the best thing he could tell himself. He never told anyone, but he was always scared when he went into a situation that wasn't in his odds.

If he kept up the 'no cares' act, no one would ever thought he'd be scared. But John had. John could see Sherlock like no one else.

As they pulled up to the building, Sherlock gave it the once over. Abandoned, twenty- no, thirty years old, half of it caught fire fifteen years ago.

'This is it.'

"Five minutes, John! I'll be back!" That would give him at least fifteen minutes.

The first room he entered was seemingly empty. He stood in the middle and waited.

"Go into the room in front of you and sit down int he chair.

Sherlock did as the voice said. Two men walked up to him and tied him to the chair.

"Mr. Holmes. How wonderful to meet you."

The man was well dressed, but looked like he hadn't showered in in a week.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die."

He had a sick smile on his face as he pulled out a box cutter. Sherlock felt a sharp sting on the right side of his face, but he didn't acknowledge it.

"Oh, do we need to add a little more pain?"

This time he felt in on both his arms and the inside of his left thigh. He flinched but made no noise. 'Seven minutes. John will come.'

One of the two men beside him grabbed a knife off of a table and put it in front of his face. His boss gave him a little nod and he stuck it in Sherlock's leg.

'If John doesn't hurry up, I actually might bleed to death.'

They continued to carve up Sherlock for a few minutes. He felt like he was going to pass out, but he knew he had to wait for John to find him.

"Well boys, I don't think Mr. Holmes will be able to take much more. In fact, he might be on the edge. And as much as I would love to stay and watch your downfall, I have other business to attend to."

They left the room, and Sherlock let out a little relieved breath. He started to black out, but he heard the only voice to bring him back to consciousness.

"Sherlock!"

John's voice was a bit panicked, but Sherlock was still glad to here it. "John!" He didn't know if John would hear him but that was all he could muster.

A few moments later, John burst into the room. Sherlock saw him take in the whole scene at once.

"Oh, Sherlock."

Uh-oh. What will happen to Sherlock now? Can John still save him? Are they ever going to get around to talking about what happened? Maybe.

I'm already working on the new chapter so it won't be too long.