"Bit strange, apparently. Lestrade says happenings are not concentrated in one area, no connection between the victims apart from their age group and..."

John's sentence didn't get finished and trailed into nothingness; Sherlock was staring intently at something beyond him and John, somewhat unnerved by his unblinking stare, followed suit and looked over his shoulder. Through the taxi window on his side he could see the street outside but that was it. There was nothing noteworthy. What was Sherlock looking at? When he turned towards Sherlock again, the man was looking straight ahead as if he had been born in that position and the past few minutes did not happen. John was just about to open his mouth to make a comment but Sherlock demanded the profile of the victims and he forgot all about it.

Listening to John, Sherlock mentally catalogued the way John's neck stretched and how the muscles pulled and twisted. It was very interesting. To be honest it was all too rather exciting and fascinating. Reminded him of when he first witnessed cell division. Back in the flat, He had briefly wondered if John had donated his body to medical science, but now he was absolutely certain that observing a dead John Watson (despite its advantages such as ease of observation and access) was too inferior to observing a live John Watson and cannot even be contemplated as an option. Well, obvious, really.

Their taxi arrived at the crime scene where Lestrade was waiting for them and, as the taxi slowed to a stop, Sherlock once again congratulated himself for letting John answer the phone. It meant John had to lead the way and that Sherlock had to follow. Follow, as in behind John. Such was the joy afforded to him from the moment they left his room. He could observe the back of John's neck all the way through from some varying viewpoints (going down the staircase in their flat gave him some superb data) in unobtrusive manner. He didn't even have to hood the gleeful glint in his eye. The plan was going well; though the ruse he used in the taxi was risky (John being kind of intelligent had its drawbacks) and made him question its practicality, it worked, too. He already accumulated so much data he wanted to delve into and review. For instance the way John's sternomastoid flexes when-

"Sherlock."

-John's voice recalled him to the reality. Sherlock was slightly startled to find that they were inside an abandoned building; the floor concrete, no windows but rectangles cut in the walls, and a dead body in front of them, Lestrade on the other side of it. When did they go beyond the police tape? When did they make their way from the main street to this building (a small goods factory, not used for three years at least even by the homeless, must have taken at least eight minutes to get here) tucked in one corner of industrial estate?

"Yes?"

"Are you ill?" This was whispered, obviously with the setting and other people in mind (one of them was dead but John was polite to people regardless of what state they were in).

He didn't grace that question with a verbal answer but rolled his eyes. John answered back by raising an eyebrow at him. Sherlock sighed and said, "No, I am perfectly fine and functioning as I should."

"Sure? The only time I saw you not prancing about with joy over a dead body was when you had a sprained ankle and even then your curls were trying to prance."

Sherlock nearly smiled and told John that dead bodies and such like were not even remotely interesting when compared to this riddle John's neck had presented him with, but for some reason his mouth shut itself of its own accord and didn't let him say so. Then his right foot moved and his knees bent down and he was on the floor and his hand pulled out his magnifier out and his eyes began observing everything and his brain began picking up the information around him and deducing everything. Some of his brain cells were both confused and amused with the way he was functioning without any conscious thought and questioned the reason behind this sudden autopilot mode (he didn't even know it existed before) but they were soon silenced by the majority and he got on with his work in peace.

Busy working, Sherlock didn't see the way John was looking at him.

Note: It feels like I'm repeating myself but I have to say it or else - thanks for all the reviews and adding the story to alerts and favourites.