Disclaimer: I still own nothing…...but I wish these men were all mine.
Sherlock never considered Sarah a threat. He knew John needed the release of sex and since he hadn't decided what kind of relationship he wanted with his doctor, he was perfectly fine with John having intercourse with other people until he made a decision. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy pulling John away in order to establish a pecking order. She did need to know who was more important after all. Apparently, she thought more highly of herself than he gave her credit for and finally broke it off with John. Sherlock could pretend to feel bad, but he knew John would see through the ruse. Instead, he took him hunting. He had been searching for the killer of several of his homeless network. They came to him after three had been killed. Now six were dead and Sherlock was very unhappy. He may not care about people in general, but he did not like his people being abused.
He needed to use bait to lure his prey in. She was sitting near the Albert Bridge, a favorite spot for this killer. Sherlock couldn't see John, but he knew where he was hiding. Suddenly, Sherlock heard a noise. It was obvious Olivia hadn't heard anything, but Sherlock knew someone was approaching. He watched the shadows, waiting for his prey to show himself. He emerged on Olivia's left, creeping slowly and quietly in order to ambush the oblivious woman. Sherlock was already moving. When the scream came, he expected to be the first there. John surprised him by getting to her first. Sherlock never saw him coming. He would be annoyed with himself if he weren't so impressed. He really needed to know how he moved like that. Normally he seemed to stomp along as though he were trying to alert everyone in a five mile radius of his presence. But when he needed to be, he was invisible. Fascinating. Sherlock was running after their prey while John checked on Olivia. The killer had grabbed her neck and the dear doctor needed to make sure she was uninjured. He heard John's footsteps coming after a few minutes, gaining slightly with every step. He knew he normally ran faster than John, of course he did. His legs were longer. How was he not only keeping pace, but gaining on them? As John passed him, he could see his face. It was practically glowing with joy. Sherlock knew what would happen when John caught his prey, and he was looking forward to it.
John was focused so completely on catching his quarry that he barely noticed Sherlock as he bypassed him. He was gaining on him swiftly and he could already feel his hands around his neck squeezing the life out of him. Seeing the man trip made him groan with disappointment. How pedestrian! The pursued tripping and allowing the hunter to catch him so easily…..were they in a slasher flick for fuck's sake?! He slowed down, taking deep breaths as he circled his soon-to-be victim. The man cowered on the ground watching him slowly moving in. John knew he was begging for his life, probably making promises or trying to convince him of his innocence, but he heard none of it. All he could hear were the sounds of breathing, his own, the prey, and Sherlock's. Yes he knew he was there, watching from the shadows. This enhanced his pleasure, knowing Sherlock was watching, deducing, and missing nothing. He crouched down, waiting for its fear to die down some, lulling it into a false sense of security before he struck. He lifted it up by its neck before slamming it into the ground, squeezing with all of his strength. He watched its eyes widen, the shock turn to panic and then to resignation. It was at that moment that he let go. As it gasped for air, thinking that it would live, he snapped its neck. The sound of its spine crunching made him groan with pleasure. He heard his groan echoed in the shadows to his left. He chuckled lightly.
John was in front of Sherlock before he even saw him move. He really needed to know how he did that. Sherlock couldn't stop himself, he grabbed John by his jacket and slammed him into the side of the building, pressing himself against the smaller man. Their ragged breathing was the only sound either heard. Sherlock had John lifted onto his tiptoes, their lips centimeters apart. John's eyes were shining and he stared into Sherlock's eyes waiting for him to come to a decision. Suddenly, Sherlock released him and spun on his heel. It was 30 seconds before he heard John following him. He grabbed his wrist and spun him back around.
"The body?" John asked.
"What about it?"
John's eyebrow rose. Sherlock almost smiled. John was starting to mimic his mannerisms. He briefly wondered if he realized, and decided that he didn't. Sherlock wondered why that pleased him.
"Mycroft will take care of it. He's good at that." Sherlock looked down at his wrist and back up to John questioningly. John let go and started to walk ahead of Sherlock.
"Tea then?"
Sherlock finally let himself smile.