AN: My sister's pretending to be sick so I'm writing this in an effort to ignore her.

I believe this prompt comes to you from the lovely Kelllie again, because I have run out, please replenish my stock of prompts.

Lily x

'Sherlock? I've got another one!'

The man in question growled from his position on the sofa, crossed the room in two bounds, snatched the offending letter from my hand and flopped back onto the sofa, ripping it open and staring at the text as if it had personally offended him.

I sighed 'You really don't have to act like this Sherlock.'

The glare I received nearly sent me sprawling across the carpet.

'John, these letters are the only evidence we have in this case! It is absolutely imperative that every letter you receive comes to me.' That gorgeous pout made an appearance 'Anyway, besides...'

I smirked, now we were getting to the crux of the matter. 'Besides what, Sherlock?'

'... Please don't be childish John. You honestly can have no illusions about our... situation.'

Now feigning innocence for all I was worth, I slipped into the seat beside him and waited for the inevitable arm curling round my waist. 'I honestly don't know what you mean, my dear.'

He muttered something indistinct into the letter. I put one finger delicately behind my ear 'Sorry Sherlock, didn't quite catch that..?'

In reply Sherlock simply clapped both hands on the sides of my face and pulled me into the fiercest kiss I have ever experienced.

We broke away and he rested his forehead against mine, both breathing heavily. 'You are mine.' He growled, sweet tea smelling breath washing over my face. 'You are mine and no one else can say those things to you, understand?'

I huffed out a laugh.

...

The story behind this outburst may interest the casual reader.

Essentially, in early November Lestrade had given Sherlock and I a case involving a young woman named Babs, who it seemed had been killing nurses after her own rejection from nursing college. But, they couldn't prove it since Babs had apparently been with her mother all night at the time the young nurse they'd found had died. Suspiciously, said mother had died in the interim. Lestrade had checked the parish records and the mother had died exactly when Babs said she had.

By the time all the paperwork and red tape had been bypassed, Sherlock had decided that we needed to go and talk to Babs. We duly did, and it turned out she wasn't the killer, as Babs was found hanging from her light fitting, wearing a brand new nurse's uniformed.

And now we were back to square one. But Bab's neighbour had incurred a good deal of suspicion since we'd gone around to ask her if she'd heard anything, had laughed slightly at the news that Babs was dead and had spent the entire subsequent interview flirting with me, culminating in her sitting on my lap in an attempt to show me her 'pretty stocking tops.'

Anyway, three days later I had received an anonymous letter telling me... well. Based on Sherlock's outburst, I think you can probably guess what it told me. A month later and I had received upwards of thirty of these letters. Sherlock was at the end of his tether and three more nurses were dead.

BUT... Sherlock had found a fingerprint. On a corpse's tabard and the corner of a letter. And they matched a woman with a history of criminal activity on the police database. Who looked suspiciously like Babs' neighbour.

...

Which was why we were now crouched outside her door, in the freezing cold on a draughty staircase, waiting for her to come out of her flat.

'Why are we still out here?' I hissed

'Her routine dictates that she'll go out to work between six thirty and six thirty five. It's only six twenty eight.'

'Sherlock, I...'

'Sssshhh!' the woman had come out of her door and was standing on the step, smoothing her coat down. Sherlock sidled out of the shadows to stand right opposite her.

'It's tough isn't it? When dreams don't come true.'

The woman started back and fell flat against her door 'S-sorry?'

'Miss Jordan isn't it? The nurses? It's not their fault they made it and you didn't.'

'I should have made it!' she hissed tearfully 'I was more qualified than any of them! Empty headed little sluts!'

'There's really no need for mindless insults.'

For more than half of this riveting conversation I had been subtly pulling the handgun from the waistband of my jeans, as the woman stepped forward and starting trying to strangle my boyfriend, I decided it was high time that I did something, so I loosed off a round into her wall.

She snapped round to look into the stairwell and ran slap-bang into three uniformed policemen as they ran up the stairs, followed closely by Donovan and Lestrade.

Needless to say, she gave up pretty sharpish after that.

...

As we were walking back towards a main road, Sherlock turned to me and asked 'So what did you think of your secret admirer then?'

I snorted, causing a passing business man to throw me an affronted look. He nearly threw up when I held Sherlock's hand 'Mine's prettier than yours.'

'That is not a comparison John. My admirer was hardly secret about it.'

When the fit of giggles had died away, i squeezed Sherlock's hand 'She had nothing on you Love.'

The look on Sherlock's face was worth all the slushy sentiment in the world. 'Well... thank you.' He mumbled, trying to hide his strawberry blush.

'Piece of cake, dear.'

AN: Awwwwwwww! However hard I try these days I cannot avoid fluff, it's like a disease. Please review, and PROMPT!