Hey, guys! So here's chapter four for you, I had this all planned out, then some plot bunnies decided to breed and I had to completely re-write it -.- This also mean I've changed around chapter three a bit in the middle, so you may want to check that out :) Well, feel free to review and let me know what you think of this so far! I'd love to hear your opinions :D
Enjoy xxx

John sat in his chair, reading the morning paper as usual, but unusually, he wasn't disturbed. Sherlock had gone out and the flat was in complete silence. Well, apart from Mrs Hudson poking her head in every now and then, offering some sandwiches she had made or a cup of tea. Funnily enough, it was always Mrs Hudson who persisted on not being a housekeeper. By one o' clock that afternoon, John had managed to go down to the clinic, see there were no appointments for him that day, tidy up the flat, and chat with Louise about his life before moving back to London, so she could get every aspect. He'd even listened to her first main themes, as she explained each one to him, as if the instruments had personalities of their own. And he'd read the paper in his hands about three times. There was nothing to do but sit back and breathe.

God he was bored.

So, apparently Sherlock had rubbed off on him. John thought about popping down to Speedy's. He could sit there for an hour, people-watching. It was always entertaining, but never as much alone. Everyone John knew was working, or married off with kids, meaning they'd be stuck at home too. He decided to call his mates later, closer to them getting out of work; and hopefully a trip down the pub could cure him.

A door slammed downstairs, and the sound of Sherlock's shoes pattered up the stairs. Honestly, that was the only way John could describe it. Pattering. Whatever had excited Sherlock that day, John was bound to be on the receiving end. His flatmate burst into the room. He threw himself into the chair by the TV and sat quietly, waiting for John to notice him.

"Do you know what I've found?" Sherlock asked eagerly, deciding John would obviously be interested.

"What?"

"I know where the stalker is."

"Stalker?"

"Yes, John, haven't you paid attention? All these women who've received threats were then murdered three days after the fourth letter. It's only been two, so we only have until tomorrow night. But..." Sherlock leaned forward, waiting for John to finish.

"You know where he is."

"Of course,"

John sighed, folded his paper away and gave full concentration to his friend. "Right, where are we going, what are we doing, and are we going to get ourselves killed?" Sherlock contemplated the consequences of his answers, then replied with: "Down in Croydon, about half an hour's drive from here. Of course, we're going to catch the man, that's what we're paid to do. No, we won't get into that much trouble; I've got people on hand."

"Homeless network?"

"Yep,"

John looked at his friend, it had been a while since their last case, and he could see Sherlock wanting to explode and go find the man now. He'd have to keep him safe, tonight would be all about solving the case for Sherlock, regardless of anyone's safety. "All right, when are we leaving?" Sherlock seemed almost surprised by John's answer, he had noticed John was in a way, slightly disturbed by the notes left to Grace Jenkins, and hadn't expected him to bite so quickly. "Later on, tonight. I've been informed that he'll be making final arrangements, for what, I'm not sure, but he'll be out in the open for us."

That was that. They'd catch him tonight.

(^^) (-.-) (TT)

After putting up with Sherlock wandering about for hours on end, mumbling, and constantly asking for the time, John decided to hide in his room. It was much quieter there; he had crept in with an excuse of finding a warmer coat. A chill had set in that week, but Sherlock wasn't fooled. The two of them had known each other for too long by then, and stayed away so each man could prepare himself. Not that it was any different to any other night. Luckily, there was no way Louise would be coming along tonight, so John didn't need to worry about that. He stood up, straightened himself, and then went to his chest of drawers. He opened the top right hand drawer, to find it empty. Well, not empty, it was full of grey and brown socks, but was empty considering what he was looking for.

When John entered the living room, he saw Sherlock sitting with his violin, re-tuning it for the third time this week. The moment John appeared in his view Sherlock jumped up, putting his violin away and got his coat and scarf. He walked towards the door, and gestured for John to go first.

"Where's my gun?"

John crossed his arms, and straightened up. The height difference was reduced only a tiny bit, but John wasn't giving up yet. Sherlock avoided his eyes. "I don't know. Really, John, you need to be more careful with you possessions." He moved to leave the flat, but before that, John had positioned himself in front of the door, blocking Sherlock's escape. "Sherlock, even I'm not really supposed to have it, there's no way I'm allowing you to leave the house with it. You never use it right anyway." Sherlock looked offended. "Well, surely I should notify the police that you have an illegal weapon. And I do not use it wrong, my methods are different to yours, and you can't criticise me on that." He took a step forward, being much smaller; John would have to be the one to move. Neither man budged.

"How do I use it wrong, then?"

"Give it here and I'll show you,"

"Really, John?"

He sighed. "You hold it too firm, and you put too much pressure on the trigger. That's not different, that's most definitely wrong. So help me, Sherlock Holmes, if I don't have my gun in a minute you won't be leaving the house and we'll have missed our chance, all because of your stubbornness." There was silence for a few moments. Sherlock reached into the breast pocket in his coat and pulled out John's pistol. John took it from him, checked the ammunition and put it in his own coat. "Thank you," He said, moving out of the way for Sherlock to lead on to their killer.