Guys I am so sorry for the huge wait! Life has just been so hectic etc. The next chapter should be up by the end of the month. I know that seems like ages but I am so busy this month! Also the next chapter will be in Sherlock's POV and he is always hard to write.

Please review and add to your favourites if you think my story deserves it, or add me as a favourite author if you think I deserve it.

I love you all loads

Scarlett x

Chapter Five

*Beep*

Just ignore it.

*Beep*

It'll stop soon.

*Beep*

Piss off Sherlock

*Beep*

With a muffled groan John Watson lifted his head from off of his pillow and stared hatefully at his phone. The engraving "Harry Watson From Clara xxx" looked back at him, it seemed smug, too smug for John's liking.

Jesus he needed to sleep more often, he had thought it would be easier to cope without sleep now he had been living with the world's only consulting detective for three years. But it seemed not, and right now it seemed someone needed him.

Grudgingly John reached for his phone and saw he had four new messages, of course they were all from Sherlock.

"Scotland Yard. Come quickly, SH" -08:22

"Get up; Lestrade's got a case for us, SH" -08:24

"John, stop ignoring me and come to Scotland Yard, SH" -08:23

"The kitchen is really going to suffer if you don't turn up in the next half an hour you know, SH" -08:26

It must be quite an interesting case for Sherlock to be pressing him to come so frequently. Besides John knew that the threat against the kitchen was not empty and that Sherlock wouldn't give a damn if it went up in smoke. He checked the time 10:02; he was surprised Sherlock hadn't woken him up earlier.

Sherlock was also a very punctual being, and John was almost 100% sure that there would be a 30 minute countdown going on somewhere in the depths of his unfathomable mind.

John decided that he wanted to keep his kitchen at least functional, so he jumped out from his bed covers and rushed towards the shower.

After 10 minutes he was dressed (rather messily), and running down the stairs of 221B.

"Are you alright dear?" Mrs. Hudson queried, poking her head from around 221B's lounge.

"Yeah, case. I want the kitchen to remain usable!"

"John, what are you talking about? Dear you haven't even had breakfast"

"Sorry Mrs. Hudson bit of a rush, I'll explain later" He shouted as he slammed the door of the flats and rushed onto the curb outside.

"TAXI!" He yelled, as one drove past. It slowed to a stop in front of him and John jumped in.

"Scotland Yard please, quick as you can"

"Sure mate"

John anxiously checked his watch 10:14, sixteen minutes.

"You alright mate? You seem kinda worried." The taxi driver asked.

"Yeah fine thanks."

"I'll try and speed up for you, but the Traffic is horrendous at this time of the day" He replied.

"Cheers mate" John smiled at him through the mirror and the cabbie smiled back. He made a mental note to tip him when they arrived.

As they drove the Cab Driver rambled about some random show, Doctor Who. John who was more intent on staring at his watch ignored him, zoning in only enough to nod his head or hum in approval at what he hoped were the appropriate moments.

10:16 – fourteen minutes.

10:17 – thirteen minutes

At this point John suddenly realized that he wasn't counting down to the kitchen demolition anymore, he was counting down the minutes until he saw Sherlock. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed him.

"The twelfth doctor was revealed last night actually, some guy called Peter Capalldi." Absent nod of head, 10:19 – eleven minutes.

10:20 – 10 minutes.

"…last regeneration apparently" 10:22 – eight minutes.

At 10:25 they arrived, John tipped the Cabbie a fiver, promised to check out Doctor Who and ran into the building.

"Ah John perfect timing!" Sherlock smirked as the Doctor entered the room.

"Good morning to you too" John replied with a smile before nodding his head at Lestrade

"Greg"

"Morning John"

John listened to the two Men as they filled him in on all the details of a particularly gruesome murder.

Three Girls and a Boy had been found dead outside a Bakery on the outskirts of London, in the early hours of that morning. All four of the victims had bruising to the back of the head, neck and legs. Two of the girls had had half of their hair seemingly ripped from their heads, and the other two of the victims had only one ear. They all, had multiple cuts to the legs and arms, as well as multiple broken bones.

But the most disturbing thing about this murder was the writing. Each of the victims had a word carved into their backs. Just, fun, some and having. Obviously placed in the right order spelt "Just having some fun" However there were obvious messes in the writing which showed that the victims had been alive whilst it was written. It was also proven to be the freshest injury, showing that the victims were alive for the whole of the torture.

"The killer was long gone before we got to the scene" Lestrade added "No sign of him"

"Ah, but he's brilliant and all-"

"All the brilliant ones are desperate to get caught, they need an audience" John cut Sherlock off, stealing his words. Referring back to their first ever case together.

Sherlock grinned at John and John thought he saw a hint of pride in his eyes. But of course he was just reading into things.

He had a sudden urge to kiss Sherlock, instead he smiled back.

"Ahem"

John turned to see Lestrade with a raised eyebrow and the two men realized they had been smiling at each other for quite some time.

"Sorry" Sherlock apologized "Do carry on Lestrade"

Lestrade smirked as if he knew something the pair of them didn't, before saying "I can give you their names and ages if you like?"

"Go ahead"

Lestrade glanced at his papers before announcing the details; "Harry Scott 23, Niamh Soper 19, Victoria Brooke 23 and Kyra Stafford 22"

"Do their families know?" John queried.

"Being told as we speak poor sods."

"Right come along John" Sherlock spoke up.

"Where are we going?" He asked in confusion.

"Oh for god's sake John, to the crime scene of course" And with that, he left in a billow of coat and curls.

John could do nothing but shrug apologetically at Lestrade, before running after him in anticipation.

The smell of blood was almost overwhelming, as John crossed the tape he saw that a few of the newer officers had turned their backs and covered their mouths. Anderson was throwing up over the police tape! As they passed him John saw Sherlock chuckle and role his eyes in Anderson's direction, John couldn't help but smirk.

Just as they reached the bodies Sherlock spun on his heel and turned to John.

"I want you to look around the streets John, the killer is definitely near here. If you find him don't hesitate to shoot him, but not fatally. Just enough to stop him running." Sherlock looked at Lestrade for approval and said "Do you have a gun?"

"Always" John answered before turning and walking back to the tape.

As he reached it he turned around to see Sherlock still staring, he smiled at him and mouthed a "be careful", to which Sherlock replied a curt nod. He then bent over the bodies and started talking very quickly to Lestrade.

It had been twenty minutes and John hadn't found the killer, he had wandered into a maze of alleyways and abandoned rubbish bins and was contemplating the idea of being lost. He turned back around and started walking the way he came, tracing his steps.

There was a scuffle behind him and John spun quickly on his heel, only to be met with wheelie bins and the smell of rubbish. He shook his head and carried op walking.

Suddenly there was a massive bang which echoed through the deserted paths and John spun around, twice as quickly as before. This time he saw two bins on the floor and rubbish strewn all around them, a man was standing there grinning like a maniac. John's brain was racing; double speed "take notes" he thought "take notes"

He made a list in his head so that if the murderer got away, he would have means to find him with.

Bald

One ear

Tall (about 6'3)

Gold tooth

Boa Constrictor tattoo wrapped around his left arm

However before he could get any further with capturing the criminal, there was a deafening crack, a sound John knew all too well. And less than a second later a searing, burning pain in his side, and another in the back of his left shoulder.

John collapsed, hitting his head on the cobbled floor. His vision was blurred, he was in agony and he was rolling around in his own pool of blood. He could barely see a thing but he could make out two figures running away from him, in the direction John was meant to have been heading.

John could feel he was slipping away, hopefully not into death but into unconsciousness.

"I hope Sherlock finds me" John thought as he closed his eyes "I still need to tell him I love him" With that simple thought John shut his eyes and fell limp onto the cold stones.