Well this was a bit of a challenge to write, and I'm not quite sure how I managed... But please read and comment/review, so I can get to know what you guys think. It's what I live off, after all!

A big thank you to my latest follower: Shadow835, and generally to everyone who reads this story. You are all gold to me! :)

Chapter 13

"Look at them" He gestured towards the family of three, no longer alive. "It was obviously a planned murder, since we can't even see how they died. Had it been a murder-robbery, it would have shown on the bodies, since it would probably have been an impulsive murder. But there are no things missing as far as I can tell which completely precludes that possibility. The father is a journalist, which one might think could make him a target considering that he recently revealed a political scandal. This is not the case however, if he were the target they would have killed him separately, on his way to work perhaps. So we can rule out that one too." Sherlock took a deep breath before he continued, and John could see how much he loved this, showing off.

"This was a well-planned murder, and he meant to kill his entire family. He, yes since it is both statistically more likely to be a man and his because it's obviously the son.

Son? Yes they have a son too. Look at the painting on the wall. It's clearly made by a child of about eight years, the date is fourteen years ago and it's signed 'Kevin' so it's clearly not their little girl here. A brother to any of the parents? No, too young, so it's a son then. Why don't they have any photos of him? Because they are ashamed of him in some way and/or mad at him. Possibly because he didn't choose the life-path his parents wanted for him, so they shut him out of the family. Hurt, angry and jealous, he decided to take his revenge. He is however way too squeamish to do it in a way that would cause them too much pain or blood loss. So he chooses to poison them, since that would be the easiest way. I believe that we are dealing with a rather depressed man, so I would advise you to find him as soon as possible, before his guilt catch up with him and he makes a rash decision."

Sherlock stopped and looked around the room, and John couldn't keep quiet. His "Brilliant Sherlock" echoed in the otherwise silent room. Sherlock smiled genuinely towards him, and John had to suppress the urge to go and kiss him.

"Oh, and if I'm not entirely mistaken, and I'm usually not, you'll find traces of 'mortem vivit', which is a very rare poison extracted from Greek daffodils, in their bodies and their tea. The son is probably a florist or somehow working with flowers to be able to get that poison. Try 'L'orangerie' down at Park Lane, they could probably give you a few clues. Now I think I have done my job, and it would be a shame if I didn't let you do any of the work, after all it is you who call yourselves Scotland Yard. Come on John, let's go." And with a small nod in Lestrade's direction, Sherlock headed for the door, not bothering to see if John came along or not.

"I'm sorry about that Greg" John said apologetically. "I hope you got something out of it at least. See you around!"

"It's okay John, we all know what he's like, don't we?" Lestrade said with a tired smile. "I definitely think we did, he is never wrong after all. Don't keep him waiting now, I'll be in touch." John smiled, and walked out of the house and into the cab that Sherlock somehow had gotten in less than two minutes. Sherlock smiled at him when he got into the car, and their hands automatically entwined when the car took off.

"You really are a bloody genius Sherlock" John said "but god you can be sassy. You should probably be a bit more humble about all this. It's Lestrade that pays most of our rent after all. Maybe you shouldn't show off quite as much?"

"I'm a show-off John. It's what we do." Sherlock said innocently. John just sighed again. Sherlock could be tough to handle at times, but god it was worth it.

Lestrade called the next day to anounce that Sherlock had been right, about everything. He almost sounded reluctant to admit it, or maybe John just imagined it. They had at least stopped the son, Kevin, from killing himself. They had found him as he was just about to take the same poison as he gave his family, but he hadn't put up any kind of fight. He had broken down completely, and he was currently being treated in a mental hospital, where he would most likely stay for a long time. Lestrade sent his greetings and gratitude to Sherlock, but John still heard the little mumble "Lord knows he doesn't need to boost his ego…" before the little click in the phone told him that Lestrade had hung up. He chuckled at that, before he turned to Sherlock and told him everything he'd heard from Lestrade.

Sherlock just smirked and it seemed like he was badly trying to cover his pride. John knew better though, he knew that Sherlock was enjoying the fact that he had been right about everything. He still wondered about a thing though. "How did you know where the son worked?" He asked, since Sherlock had never explained that part.

"Park Lane was the only flower-shop I knew that kept these Greek daffodils, so I deduced that it must be the one." Sherlock answered, a bit absent-minded.

But John wasn't satisfied "Now hold on a minute, how could you possible know that? It could have been like ten other flower-shops!" And when it hit him, he couldn't help but gloat a little. "You guessed Sherlock, didn't you?"

"I never guess John."

"Yes you do." John was still smiling. "But that's okay, I won't tell anyone." Sherlock chuckled. They sat in silence for a while, until Sherlock suddenly jumped up from his chair and loudly proclaimed

"John, I'm bored."