Thank you for your kind reviews on the last chapter!

I'm so happy you liked it ;A;

And a new chapter ... Here we go :)

As they entered 221B, Sherlock's phone chimed.

"Lestrade?" Sherlock answered.

"We've found out the victim's identity, a tourist found her purse. Her name is Aileen Jones. She's married, no children and currently living alone in a flat here in London, because her husband is abroad for work. We're still trying to contact him.
We know now for sure the murder weapon was arsenic, the cuts were made after her death –"

Sherlock didn't even bother to tell off Lestrade and hung up. He had more important things to do now.
He put his coat away and started examining the samples. Quickly, but thoroughly.
He blanked out everything around him.

It was exasperating. After two hours of intensive work, he still hadn't found anything new, only proving things he had already deduced before.

Sherlock looked up from his microscope to find that John had left the flat - probably shopping.
He stood up from his chair, took the little black lotus he hadn't examined yet with him and lay down on the couch.

While his fingers played with the lotus and his eyes looked at it from every possible angle, Sherlock's mind went elsewhere.
He was thinking about John's odd behaviour lately.
What was wrong with him?
Since that last date John was always nervous or deep in thought and Sherlock couldn't find the reason why.
And all that blushing.

And then the thing earlier in the cab. The kiss.

Sherlock had been really surprised when John had suddenly kissed him (in a taxi of all places!) and still didn't get why he did it.
But even more confusing to Sherlock was his own reaction.

He had liked it.
He had liked being kissed by John, he had liked the feeling of John's lips against his.
He had relaxed into the kiss and Sherlock was sure if John hadn't pulled away, he would have reciprocated it.

Sherlock had never understood what people liked about kissing.
It were just lips pressing and moving against each other in an useless show of feelings, sometimes even involving tongues and exchange of saliva.
He had tried kissing a few times, but never understood the appeal – until now.

With John, kissing had been different. Kissing had been nice.
It had made him feel warm inside, happy and at home.
John's lips had felt like John himself was; a little rough, but so very soft and careful.
Their lips had fit together perfectly and it had felt natural to Sherlock.

It had felt good. But ... why?

Why had it felt good now, when it hadn't before?
Why was kissing John different from kissing other people?

Or maybe it hadn't been John and it had been the circumstances? Or something entirely different?

This needed extensive research. He needed more data. And soon.
Because Sherlock knew that John would never kiss anyone without reason.

His gaze fell onto the lotus. His fingers had worked without his consent and pulled the petals apart.
Now he could see a little silver line on the black paper that shouldn't be there.
He sat up and started to unfold the lotus.
On the square paper were written two words in silver tint:
FIND ME

This didn't fit. Why would the murderer leave a message?

At that moment, John entered the flat.
"Sherlock, I have a letter for you."

Sherlock looked up. A letter? Why would John give him a letter?

"I ..." John sighed. He seemed uneasy, Sherlock noted.
"In front of Baker Street, there was this woman standing. I thought she was a client, because she was looking up to our windows the whole time, but I approached and when she turned around to me, I recognized her. It was ... your fan. That woman who wrote you that letter telling you she wants to go out with you. "

Sherlock was alarmed. Not her again.
He had thought by getting rid of that letter he would never hear from her again, she would know he rejected her.
And now she had been here. Right in front of his door. Their door.
She had met John.

"She told me she didn't want to go in and gave me this letter for you." John held up another pink letter.

... So she wasn't interested in John?
She wouldn't have given him the letter for Sherlock if she had found John was better dating-material, would she?

Sherlock took the letter from John, opened it carefully and took one sheet of pink paper out.
It was blank.
He turned it around, but there was nothing written on both sides.

He looked up and met John's eyes. He had been watching him.
For a moment, they just looked into each other eyes, then John turned away.
Sherlock didn't like that. He wanted to continue looking into John's eyes, they were such a beautiful colour...

"So she wanted to give you an empty letter? She may after all be your type, Sherlock. Giving you puzzles."

Sherlock didn't like the emotion in John's voice. Or better the lack of them.
John sounded like he tried to hide all his feelings, but Sherlock could still hear the bitterness.
He wanted to say something, but couldn't find words to describe what he wanted to convey.

Instead he gave John the black paper with the words. Distraction.

"That is the lotus we found in the victim's mouth."

John looked at the paper. His eyes widened.

"A message?" John sounded more like himself again and Sherlock couldn't stop a smile from creeping on his face.

"Yes."

"Any ideas?"

"None at all."

"Really?" John smiled slightly and looked sceptically at Sherlock.

"For now, yes. There was nothing to be found through the samples or on the crime scene, but if the murderer wants me to find them, they'll have left something for me to find. I must have missed something."

"Maybe some kind of code? Like the last time?"

"No, there weren't any cyphers around and if there were any we couldn't decode them."

"So we will have to go through all kinds of books again? Searching for some hidden small hint? Oh no, Sherlock! Not that again."

Sherlock's eyes widened in realization.
"John, you're brilliant!"

"What? Sherlock what are you –"

But Sherlock was already texting wildly on his phone.

"Sherlock? Will you please tell me what we're going to do?"

Sherlock didn't answer until he had finished his text and put his phone into his pocket.
"We're going to look at the victim's flat. Where else would they have left a cypher? And the book to decipher it would be there, too. That's brilliant, brilliant, brilliant!"

And with that Sherlock took his coat and stormed out the door.
"Come on, John, no time to waste!"