Hello, fellow Sherlockians! Here's chapter two!

April 17th, 2013. 11:32 AM, 221B Baker Street.

The rain pounded against the windows of 221B Baker Street as John Watson stared blankly at his computer, unable to think of what to write for his blog.

It had been several months since the death of his best friend and since then he was unable to climb out of his rut. At first he was devastated, close to depressed. After a month or so, the sadness had faded, a lasting numbness replacing it. He had almost completely stopped writing his blog and he was living more off of Mrs. Hudson's sympathy than anything else.

Since Sherlock's death, he hadn't moved a thing in the flat- or at least anything of Sherlock's. Mrs. Hudson kept nagging him to clean, but he couldn't make himself do it. He couldn't get rid of anything of Sherlock's. Well, except for the body parts in the refrigerator. Watson was glad that those were gone.

It wasn't that John Watson was weak; it was just that he didn't know what to do. When he returned from the war, he felt lost. Then he moved into 221B with Sherlock and he was always busy, running about and solving cases with his sociopathic friend. But now that Sherlock was gone, the lost feeling had returned and Watson hadn't the slightest idea about where he would go from where he was now.

Every day, Watson would go through his normal routine, but no matter how hard he tried to tune out the hints of Sherlock's previous existence, he couldn't. Sometimes he would find himself staring at the yellow smiley-face on the wall that Sherlock would shoot when he was bored and other times he would glance at Sherlock's scientific equipment sitting upon the kitchen table.

Watson stared at his computer for a number of minutes until he heard a surprising phrase from the television, which he had unintentionally left on. "…Sherlock Holmes might not have been a fraud." When Watson heard these words, he instantly rushed towards the television to listen.

A woman standing in front of St. Bartholomew's Hospital spoke, "This speculation is occurring due to an article published on The Sun's website. The article detailed one of Holmes' more famous cases, called 'A Study in Pink' by his former assistant, John Watson."

"The article contained an in-depth explanation of the steps Holmes might have taken to solve the case, along with photographic evidence to support each claim." Pictures of the pink phone, the word 'Rache' scratched into the floorboards of where the pink woman was found, and the bottle that contained the pills were all shown on the screen. There was also a section about the murderer, his backstory, and his motive." A picture of the murderer, the old taxi driver that Watson had shot, flashed onto the screen.

"The article was published anonymously as of 6AM this morning and the writer's identity is currently unknown. We'll report more information as soon as we get it, but for now, one question remains: Was Sherlock Holmes truly a fraud or was there a bigger plot in play?" The television then flashed to the weather reports.

For a moment, Watson sat there, dumbstruck. Who was trying to clear Sherlock's name? And why? Either way, Watson knew that there was one thing that he needed to do.

Fifteen minutes later, Watson's cab was pulling into the parking lot of Scotland Yard. He surveyed the large building, anxiously tapping his fingers on the cab's windowsill. He needed to talk to a certain DI, and quickly.

Just then Detective Inspector Lestrade burst from the Scotland Yard building, Sally Donovan and Anderson in tow. Seeing as they were about to leave, Watson opened the door to his taxi, causing the driver to hit the brake.

With a shout of "I'll pay you later," Watson jumped out of the car, falling and rolling on the pavement. He quickly got up and ran towards the DI, who was climbing into a police car. "Lestrade, wait!"

Despite Watson's calls, Lestrade didn't respond. Watson ran faster, ignoring the taxi driver, who was letting lose a stream of curse words and waving his fist in Watson's direction. As Lestrade began to start the car, Watson positioned himself in front of it.

"What are you doing?" Lestrade asked, obviously impatient.

Watson panted, "Have you seen the news? Someone is trying to prove that Sherlock wasn't a fraud!"

Anderson, who was sitting in the passenger seat, remarked, "So it wasn't you?"

Watson could hear as Sally Donovan remarked under her breath, "I wouldn't expect anything less from the freak's sidekick." Watson glared at the both of them. After Sherlock's suicide, those two had laughed and made Sherlock jokes, saying that it was a good riddance.

Lestrade gave them both sharp looks, then turned to Watson. "John, we're in the middle of a very important case right now. It would be better if you didn't bother us at the moment."

"What case?" As Watson asked this, Donovan and Anderson exchanged glances and Lestrade frowned.

"I assure you, it's very important. Now if you would please move and let us leave-"

Watson wouldn't budge. For months people had thought that Sherlock was a fraud. Watson hadn't believed it and he was positive that Lestrade didn't want to. So he pressed on, needing to talk to Lestrade about the news report he saw. "What case? What I saw has to be more important!"

Lestrade scrunched his eyebrows and stayed silent for a moment. Then he said, "Mycroft was murdered last night. We're about to go and investigate the crime scene."

Watson's mouth dropped. Who had killed Mycroft? Watson knew that quite a few people would have wanted Mycroft dead because he worked for the government, but it was still a surprise to hear that he had actually been killed. "Could I come?" he asked.

Lestrade's frown grew into a scowl, as he was obviously thinking. Donovan laughed, "You're not actually thinking of letting him come, are you?"

Anderson sniggered, "Yeah, since the freak's not around anymore, there's no reason to bring his sidekick along."

"Shut your mouths," Lestrade snapped, then looked back to Watson. "Did you know Mycroft well?"

Watson answered, "A bit. He called on me to investigate a few things and he would make me meet with him behind Sherlock's back so he could see what his brother was up to."

"In that case, come on. No one seemed to know Mycroft well, but you're the closest thing we can find to a friend of his. You might be able to help us find out who killed him."

And with that, Watson launched himself into an adventure that would change his life, and possibly the entire world, forever.

And that concludes this chapter!

~Haymitch-The-Hobo