This chapter did not turn out the way I thought it would, but I guess this is okay too. I just want to say thank you to everyone who is reading this, and thank you for every review, follow, favourite and PM, it means more than you can imagine!

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Chapter 12

Their little snogging session was the first of many during the following week. John found himself pushed against a lot of different walls at usually highly inappropriate places. (He still blushed at the thought of how Sherlock had been all over him in a corner of the Royal Library, until the stern librarian had discovered their not-so-discreet hiding-place and kicked them out, heads first.) It wasn't like John minded, on the contrary he enjoyed it quite fully, but he was still surprised at the sudden affection from a man he thought to be asexual not so long ago. He wanted to ask about it, but didn't know how, without making it sound wrong or accusing in any way. But he decided at last to bring it up.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon. Sherlock was lying with his head in John's lap, trying to engage in a terrible soap-opera, but failing miserably. Suddenly the words were just out of John's mouth "How come you seem so very keen on ravaging my lips at every opportunity Sherlock? You haven't seemed to like any kind of human-contact before…" He stopped talking, when he noticed how wrong it all sounded. Sherlock however, seemed to take the question seriously, and he considered it for a while before he answered.

"I think it's like a tap John…once you opened it, everything just flows out, and it's hard to stop the flow." He said slowly, as if he too, considered the matter for the first time. "I have never allowed myself feelings of this kind before, since it makes you vulnerable, but now that I let myself feel for the first time, I never want to stop. It's like I can never get enough. I didn't like the feeling at all at first, but now I quite enjoy it. It's like you're my drug." John found that explanation quite good, apart from the drug-reference, and he kissed Sherlock on the forehead.

"Thank you" He said, knowing that Sherlock would understand. Then he chuckled a bit and added "But considering how all of this started, it should be me who was all over you." Sherlock smiled smugly, and said in a low voice "Why aren't you then, John? It's not like I would mind." The words shot straight into John, and it led to another kissing session on the sofa, which only stopped when Sherlock's phone rang.

"Ugh, Lestrade sure knows how to pick his moments" Sherlock grunted, but he answered the phone, still breathing a bit heavy. It took less than two minutes before he sprang to his feet, gesturing towards John to follow him, and five minutes later they were both seated in a cab heading towards wherever Lestrade were. John didn't know anything about the case yet, and to be honest, he'd much rather spent the entire day on the sofa. But seeing the fire in Sherlock's eyes as he got whenever there was a case, well, it was worth it all.

They were at the outskirt of London, before the cab slowed down and stopped outside an idyllic-looking house, that made John think about an old fairytale he'd heard as a child. The house was small, with an iron-gate leading into a beautiful garden. Everything looked neat and tidy, and the whole atmosphere had been almost magical, had it not been for the crowd of policemen and the tape that cordoned off the surrounding area. Lestrade met them at the gate, looking tired but glad to see them. "Thank you for coming. I'm sorry to disturb you on the weekend like this." He said apologetic.

"It's fine Greg, we weren't doing anything in particular." John said, ignoring the look Sherlock gave him at those words. "But you are quite welcome to tell us why we're here."

"Yes of course… But I think you should see it all first, it's hard to believe if you haven't witnessed it yourself." John didn't really want to think about what those words meant, but they followed Lestrade up the small stone-steps and into the house.

It wasn't hard to see what Lestrade meant. On the sofa in the living-room there were two adults and a small child, all sitting still and with their eyes open, staring blankly at the TV. Too still. John got a shock once he realized they were actually dead. If he'd give it a thought, he should probably have known it from the start, but they still looked so alive. It was like he and Sherlock, together with all the policemen, had invaded a perfectly cozy family night by the TV, and John got really creeped out about the whole scene. He seemed to have turned softer lately, he thought a bit annoyed, but still, this was not normal. Taking a deep breath, he started to examine the bodies, since Lestrade told them they had absolutely no idea what killed the poor family.

After a while, he straightened up, and disappointed in himself, he said "I'm really sorry Greg, but I can't find anything. There is obviously no sign of struggling or violence, no bruises on the neck, nothing they could have choked on. And besides, if they had been choked to death, you would have seen it on their eyes, but it's nothing. It looks like they have just…died." John cringed when he heard himself, he sounded idiotic. What kind of doctor is he if he can't even find the cause of death? It's probably obvious, and he waited for Sherlock to point it out to everyone, but he doesn't. In fact, the detective just stood there, watching John, and seems to take no notice of the scene in front of him. John opened his mouth to say something, but Lestrade gets first. "Sherlock, please tell me you have something…anything that we can go on." His voice pleading.

"Obviously. Look for the son." Sherlock said simply, as he turned his gaze towards Lestrade instead.

"Son…? There is no son? They only had one child, Sherlock."

"I beg to differ." Sherlock continued, in a rather bored voice. "It's obvious, isn't it?" He looked around the room, waiting for someone to exclaim whatever it is he finds to be so clear. "Oh right… I almost forgot that you had average brains. You should take that as a compliment, by the way." He added the last part with a smile, but no one seemed to think it was a rather good compliment, and sensing the tension in the room, Sherlock sighed and began to explain.