Chapter 4: An Unexpected Return

"Morning boys!" Mrs Hudson's voice rang through the air.

"Dammit!" said John, jumping out from under the duvet and frantically trying to find the pants he'd lost last night.

"By the door." said Sherlock, pointing lazily. John had managed to get on his pants and was halfway into a shirt when Mrs Hudson opened the bedroom door.

"Morning! I brought you coffee and croissants. I know you worked hard yesterday. I saw it on the telly- that murderer's been caught, and Lestrade said you two were involved."

"Oh, er, yes, we, er, solved, ouch." said John, stuck in his shirt, which he'd tried to put on over his head for ease. Sherlock laughed and got out of bed to help him.

"You idiot." he said.

"I'll just leave you two alone then shall I?" asked Mrs Hudson, putting the tray in a bedside table and closing the door after her.

Sherlock's curly hair was everywhere.

"Come here. Let me sort that out." said John. He gently ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair and straightened it out. "That's better."

The pair of them tiredly traipsed into the living room, where the flopped down into chairs and Sherlock grabbed a newspaper.

"We forgot the coffee and croissants." said John, very fed up. Sherlock didn't move.

"I'll get them." said John, getting out of his hair and walking towards the bedroom.

"I wasn't going to." said Sherlock.

John came back a few moments later with Mrs Hudson's tray of breakfast. He offered it to Sherlock, who didn't say anything- he was engrossed in a story titled 'Twelve dead in house fire- police baffled'.

"We have to take this case."

John took the newspaper from Sherlock and looked at it, very confusedly.

"Sherlock- this is from 1997."

"Oh," said Sherlock, grabbing it back off John and throwing into the bin.

"Morning!"

"What?!" exclaimed John and Sherlock in unison.

"Lestrade?" yelled John.

"Yes. Hi. We need you."

"Well we figured that out." Said Sherlock. "You're at our house at eight thirty in the morning wearing your coat inside out. You're not here to say hello."

"What?" said Lestrade, looking at his coat. "Oh for God's sake!" While Lestrade was taking off his coat and putting it the right way round, Sherlock stood up and began to walk into the bedroom.

"Come on!" he said to John.

"Calm down I'm coming." He said, and followed him to get dressed. Sherlock had already jumped into a pair of black pants and was tucking in a white shirt. John got out a pair of jeans and a blue striped shirt and started to put them on. By the time he'd gotten on the pants and was buttoning up the shirt, Sherlock was completely ready. He went over to John.

"Hurry up!" he said, not angrily though. He very quickly buttoned up the rest of John's shirt and threw his coat at him on the way back to the living room.

"Okay then." John muttered, putting on the coat and rushing back to Lestrade.

In the taxi to Scotland Yard, Lestrade began to tell the pair the details of the case.

"We've had seven heart attacks just in London this week." He began.

"That's not ridiculously abnormal." Replied John.

"I wasn't finished. We've had seven heart attacks this week- people who were perfectly healthy and mostly under the age of 35."

"Oh."

"Yeah. We haven't been able to find any correlation but there has to be something we've missed. Seven healthy young individuals don't just die from a heart attack in a week."

"You're right." Said Sherlock. "We'll take a look at the bodies."

"Molly." Said Sherlock as they walked in.

"Oh, yes hello. I have the bodies, and the medical records for all seven victims." John walked over to one, a man in his early twenties. He was fairly muscular, and his records said he had no history of illnesses causing heart attacks.

"Strange," he muttered.

"Yes, strange. But there's nothing on any of the bodies. Did you check for poisons?" Sherlock swivelled around to Molly.

"Yes, there's nothing. No drugs, poisons or gas exposure." Sherlock sat puzzled, for almost 25 solid minutes.

"Sherlock? Are you okay?" asked John.

"Wha?- Oh, yes, fine. Just thinking."

"And?.."

"Nothing."

"All we can do is go home and think."

"Where were they found?" asked Sherlock, suddenly invigorated.

"All at their houses." Said Lestrade. "The only way they could have been murdered is if the murderer had the key."

"Or they were let in." said Sherlock. Clearly he was on to something.

"What do you mean let in?" asked Lestrade.

"What if their profession was one that allowed them to go door to door and meant that they were frequently let into people's homes?"

"They'd have to be a damn good salesman." Said John.

"But that would make it difficult to target people. They wouldn't let you in if they knew that you didn't like them."

"What if they weren't- wait." Said Sherlock. "They're being used."

"Used?" said Lestrade.

"Yes, used. They can't kill anybody they know, which makes it difficult to target people. Which means that, since there's no correlation between any of the victims, the murderer is being used."

"Or he's just a psychopath who murders people on his job?" said John.

"No, he wouldn't be stupid enough. Every door-to-door salesman has a list of houses they have to visit. If every house where somebody's been murdered was on your list, it'd be pretty easy to know that you're the murderer. Which means that the person using them wants to be found."

"Sherlock, are you sure you're not overthinking things?" asked John, looking concerned.

"No," said Sherlock, cupping John's cheek. "I swear to you- I am right."

"Okay..." said John.

"So who's using them? Why?" asked Lestrade.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be here." said Sherlock.

"How do we find out?"

"I have ideas. CCTV where the bodies were found. That's where we'll start."

"Already done." said Lestrade. "There's nothing of any value- the assailant enters the home after standing outside for around ten minutes each time. They never come out."

"What?" said Sherlock. "What do you mean they never come out?"

"Well they never come out. They go in and don't come back out." said Lestrade.

"Can you see their face?" asked John.

"Well, yes. Partially. If we find footage of an exit then we'd probably be able to fit the two together."

"Excellent. We have to go to the victims' houses and try and locate a second security camera." He swept out of the room.

"Er, John..."

"Hm?"

"I'm... glad for you."

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad. For you. And Sherlock."

"Oh, er, thankyou."

"You're welcome." Lestrade smiled, and left John standing alone.

"Number fourty-four. Are you sure?"

"Positive John."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, John. I've said- positive."

"Well, we have to break in. I don't want to break into the wrong house."

"I'm positive."

John checked to see if anyone was watching, then headed round the back of the house. Sherlock followed him, and watched him push his elbow against the back living room window.

"Have you even checked if there is a camera?" Sherlock hissed.

"Yes. Up there." John pointed to a small red light hidden in some ivy by the upstairs window.

"Good. In we go." said Sherlock, vaulting through the window to avoid the broken glass. John followed. Within minutes Sherlock had located and successfully hacked the family computer.

"Here."

John looked at the computer, wide-eyed. Sherlock put on the date and fast-forwarded the tape to when the murderer went inside. About 25 minutes later, a man emerged from the back door.

"There." John pointed at the screen, and the pair of them watched, unblinking. The man made his way across the garden and pushed through the hedge.

"Damn." said John. They looked away from the screen, and it began to make a fuzzing noise. They Boy looked back immediately.

A man appeared on the screen. Vacant expression, dead behind the eyes. He said one phrase. Over and over again.

"Did you miss me?"

Sherlock's phone began to ring rather loudly, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen. It carried on ringing but Sherlock wasn't flinging. John reached into his inside pocket and took out the phone.

"Hello?"

"Sherlock- you need to come back to Scotland Yard. Now."

"Why? What's going on?"

"John! Oh, hello. You both just need to get back here. This is going to change the case completely."

Lestrade hung up.

"Sherlock?" said John gently. "We have to go." Sherlock looked at John and immediately swept him up into a hug.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything."

"There's no need to be sorry." said John. Sherlock leant down and kissed John.

He turned around and copied the CCTV tape at the speed of light, then grabbed John's hand and pulled him out of the house.

"Lestrade- what's going on?" asked John, almost completely out of breath.

"There's another body. And it's the murderer."

"What?" John burst out.

"I thought this might happen." said Sherlock. "You know who we're dealing with."

"Moriarty."

"Yes. Where's the body?"

"Molly has it."

Sherlock briskly walked out of the room to Molly. John and Lestrade followed.

"Hello." said Sherlock, rolling up his sleeves. Molly immediately wheeled in a body. John gasped- it was covered in stab wounds. Every inch of the body was mauled and mangled. Sherlock put his arm around John and looked carefully at the wounds.

"I need to clean it."

Molly handed him antiseptic and a cloth. After about half an hour, the body was completely clean of blood, and everyone could see why Sherlock had wanted to clean it.

The stab wounds were letters. The body was a message. Sherlock held John close as they read those fear-inducing words:

"Did you miss me?"

Thanks to everyone still reading this, and my sincere apologies for being completely incapable of writing Molly. Drop any comments or suggestions ;)