Sherlock Holmes was positively enthralled by the Markstein case. He'd been receiving far too many dull cases from Lestrade and his ilk, so the detective had been honestly surprised and thrilled when this case turned out to be far more interesting than he had originally thought. The two Markstein brothers had been killed in broad daylight in the middle of a busy London street, for one. While he'd expected it to be an open and shut mugging gone wrong when he'd said two men had been shot, Sherlock had been honestly surprised to have to push his way through a crowd of bystanders watching on horrified as the two brother's bodies cooled. He'd made a bit of a quip at John about how he didn't need the doctor to identify the cause of death as brain matter and blood had been splashed and splattered across the streets from the obvious gunshot wounds to the skull. His interest had only grown the longer he had stayed at the scene.

Several things were deduced silently all while simply standing still and just observing. The broad daylight could mean many things, but Sherlock settled on either stupidity or confidence in one's abilities (which could also have meant stupidity). Further thought had Sherlock leaning towards confidence without so much idiocy as at the time there had been no other reported murders of injuries. The killer had managed to hit only his intended victims rather than the bystanders which had been crowded around them. The close proximity of the bodies suggested that they'd both died one right after the other over a short time span as the second one to die hadn't had enough time to attempt fleeing. So there was likely some actual skill involved in the deaths. Proved further when he'd been able to get a ballistics report and find that the men had been killed by a high caliber rifle. Coupled with the fact that the Markstein brothers had been moving up in the world, Sherlock was soon convinced he was on the trail of a professional. A hired killer. A fact that had him actually excited, and the case since his revelation had taken up all of his time.

Hired professionals understood the importance of cleaning up any and all evidence they could. They were normally at least halfway intelligent, dangerous, and hard to catch. As it were, Sherlock was determined to find this one. He hadn't informed John, or Lestrade for that matter, that he believed that they had a hired gun on their hands. John would likely become cross about his desire to continue working the case. The doctor would say it was too dangerous to go after someone that made a living off of killing, and that he should leave the task of finding the killer to Lestrade and the Yard. He had no intention of giving up the case now that he'd made a few breakthroughs, had become interested and enthralled. He couldn't afford to risk Lestrade taking him off it because John believed it was too 'dangerous.' So he said nothing, and he allowed John and the Yarders to believe they were looking for a run-of-the-mill murderer. By the time Lestrade figured it out for himself it would be too late and Sherlock would already be too involved to have him thrown off the case.

Sherlock was going over the facts and the evidence he did have when John returned home from his date. The detective glanced up from his thoughts to look the man over for a few seconds. He'd come home, so that meant it was either the first date or the other hadn't been able to invite the doctor over…Possibly both? It wasn't that they'd disliked each other, or at least that John had disliked her, as the doctor was obviously in a decent enough mood. Sherlock might even go so far as to say the man was content as an easy kind of smile was on the other's lips while the detective's pulled into a scowl. John finding a woman to date for an extended period meant that the doctor would attempt to go on dates more often rather than aiding with the cases they took. Something that Sherlock had never thought would be an issue, but he did find John's help on cases helpful as every so often the other would have good insight, or his medical skills would be of good use. Sherlock wiped the brief scowl from his face to settle with a more neutral expression.

"You're date went well, I assume." The detective stated, and John glanced at him as he shrugged out of his coat and set it aside.

"It was alright," John said as he started towards the stairs, but Sherlock's eyes narrowed a bit at the movement. To anyone else nothing would seem out of place, but the detective prided himself on his observation skills and he knew the doctor's normal routine. Normally infallible. John going up the stairs, presumably to his bedroom, was a break in the routine Sherlock had long since filed away in his mind palace. After every date John came home from the doctor would go to the kitchen and get some tea before doing anything else. This included the times when John returned at odd hours of the night or early morning, and even if his feet were practically dragging against the ground form tiredness. Tea, then he'd carry on. This difference was glaring Sherlock right in the face as he analyzed the possible reasons behind it. In the end, the detective let the matter go as John was surely just thinking of other things…It was just tea, after all. What was so devious about not getting tea? A low chuckle slipped out as Sherlock relaxed again and went back to thinking over the Markstein case. There had to be a reason the brothers had been killed other than for their success…It just didn't make sense…

X X X

John moved the floorboard he'd went to earlier once more and set the pistol and its silencer back inside. With the weapon back in its proper place the assassin replaced the board carefully and silently before stripping so he could change into more comfortable clothes. He'd placed his knife on the edge of his bed as he changed, having not put that back. Once finished he grabbed the decently sized blade before slipping it beneath his pillow as he crawled into the bed. There would be a lot to do over the next few days. With Sherlock actively trying to solve the Markstein case he'd need to be alert for anything incriminating that could put the man on the right track, as well as try and find someone he could frame. He doubted that the conversation that resulted from Sherlock figuring out that he'd been living with an assassin for so long would be a pleasant one. Especially is Big Brother found out about it. The assassin actually grimaced at the thought of Mycroft becoming involved. The first time he'd met the elder Holmes John had thought he had finally been caught. With the black cars, clearly government. He'd assassinated some allies of Mycroft's in the past after all. Before he'd even known about the Holmes brothers of course, but nevertheless he'd caused the deaths of a few high ranking politicians. Since then he'd been a bit more careful of which political contracts he took.

There was also the newfound interest Moriarty now had in him. If Sherlock found about that as well there would be even more issues. If only because he'd likely have security on John increased and the assassin really didn't need that when he could get a call with a contract at all hours of the day…which was yet another issue added to the situation he was now in. It was rare for him to go more than a week without a contract, and his latest one had been the Markstein brothers which had happened six days ago. He was expecting someone to contact him soon.

X X X

John was in the sitting room the next day with some tea and his laptop when Sherlock came bursting into the room in full regalia. Belstaff already on and scarf in the process of being wrapped around his neck. The detective had an expression on his face that John had long since categorized as the silent way to express that 'The Game is on!' The detective whirled to look at John, coat billowing out dramatically as he did so.

"Come along, John. We've a murderer to catch." The man said, eyes positively on fire with excitement and adrenaline that John only saw when Sherlock was convinced he'd finally gotten a lead. Considering the case they were on, John was on his feet and grabbing his coat quickly and following after Sherlock onto the street. There wasn't really a need for a cab, so after a few failed attempts at catching one they ended up walking towards their destination. John instinctively knew what was in the direction they were heading. The scene of the Markstein murders. He played ignorant.

"So what have we got?" he questioned, looking to Sherlock. The taller man's stride was longer than John's, but part of the reason the detective was able to move faster was because John allowed it. He took smaller steps and still barely favored his one leg as he did so. Small things that added to his disguise in plain sight. He'd had plenty of time to perfect it.

"I believe I've found where our murderer was when he killed Richard and Travis Markstein." Sherlock answered, flashing a smug smile back at John as he did so.

"What? How? Lestrade's men searched everywhere around the scene." John said, and Sherlock chuckled.

"Really, John? You must know by now that Lestrade doesn't observe." The detective replied, "I worked out the trajectory the bullets must have travelled to reach their targets. Based on the information the bullets came from a higher position-Obvious as we already knew the killer used a high powered rifle-and there are only so many buildings within the area that the bullet could have come from. This one being the most appropriate option." Sherlock stopped in front of a building across the street from where the Markstein brother's had been murdered with a triumphant air. The man was brilliant. One of the most brilliant and intelligent men that John had ever met, and he'd met fairly intelligent people in his line of work. Sometimes, like now, John didn't always appreciate Sherlock's skills and intelligence.

"Alright then," John said, "How do you plan to get in, then?"

By picking the lock, it seemed. They headed up into the building, and after a few wrong choices they came to the door of the flat John had been in when pulling the trigger to kill the brothers. Sherlock stepped inside smoothly before immediately going over the room. John instantly saw what Sherlock eventually would once his methodical sweep reached the appropriate places. The subtle sign of chipped pain and wood on the window sill. The recoil of the rifle had damaged it, but John hadn't been able to fix it or try to cover it up. He'd been on a time crunch as he'd know Sherlock would be called in on murders like this. He also couldn't afford to linger in the area with a sniper rifle. If that didn't raise a red flag he didn't know what would.

As Sherlock moved on to the window sill and was soon looking over the damages John spotted something in the corner of the room and his heart rate actually accelerated as he mentally berated himself. It might as well have been amateur hour. The shells from his rifle were in the corner. Waiting to be noticed and picked up. Likely holding traces of his DNA or fingerprints despite the fact he'd worn gloves. It was hard to tell whether or not there was evidence on the things, but there of course was ways to counteract this. He just needed to be subtle. He could handle that…Right?

While Sherlock was occupied, John crept towards the shell casings. His stance changed so he could move quickly yet silently towards his target. He was soon kneeling down and snatching the shells from their place before standing smoothly and slipping back into the stance of the 'doctor.' A hand slipped into his pocket to deposit the evidence just as Sherlock looked up.

"Little mistakes. It's always the little mistakes that ruin these people. This is definitely from the rifle used in the murders…" Sherlock said with, smirking as he did so before glancing around the room again with a critical eye. "Everything else seems to have been rid of evidence however…even took the shell casings… You're a clever one aren't you," With that last softer addition, Sherlock stood to gaze out the window down where the crime scene had been. Deep in thought. John slipped his hand back out of his pocket to leave the evidence buried within. Safe from Sherlock's attention.

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