A man murdered in his upstairs flat with a blunt object. His landlady who lives in the flat below him was home all day and was not aware of any visitors. No one was buzzed in yet she claims only herself and the deceased were the only one with a key yet there are no signs of forced entry.
It is a five at best but the criminal class has been dull the last three weeks and my brain is rotting away. In other word I'm bored so very bored. It was either take this case from Lestrade or give in and except the case from Mycroft that is of "national importance" that he has been nagging me about, lazy git. It was not a difficult choice.
Getting out of the cab I hear "freak's here." Donavan is glaring at me with her usual malice.
"Sally, going on a date with Anderson later I see." Glancing at Anderson supports my theory. Sally is wearing a dark blue dress under her coat, dress shoes, and diamond earrings. Also Anderson's dress shirt collar is visible even though his is wearing his blue protective clothing and I can smell his cologne even from here. What did he do bath in it?
"Shut up freak you have no proof of that." Anderson snarls. "And frankly I'm tired of…"
I tone him out before any of my brain cells die. His face is getting rather red. What is the reddest someone face can get? One day I'll do and experiment on it and Anderson would be the perfect person to use.
"And at least I have someone who cares about me. No one could care for a freak like you."
I keep my face neutral but that did hit a mark. Not that Anderson was correct, that will be the day, because I have John. John, who I haven't Skyped with in two and half weeks; missed our last meeting which is not unusual. The area in which he is at loses internet connection frequently but I cannot stop myself from thinking of all the possibilities. Did he get a new assignment? Was he needed because someone had been shot? The possibilities are almost endless but there is one idea that will not leave my mind. Is he hurt or missing? Now is not the time to think of John. I have a crime to solve.
"Anderson enough" Lestrade states before Anderson can keep ranting.
"But sir"
"No buts Anderson just do you job. Sherlock follow me." Lestrade's voice is strained.
Late night, hair is uncombed, his stance is stiff; his back hurts so he slept on the sofa. He fought with his wife. Oh, he finally found out that his wife cheating on him with the delivery man. I'm surprised that it took him so long to find out. I've known for two months.

John
The flight back to London was horrible. My shoulder was throbbing and the uncomfortable seats did not help. The flight attendant and other passengers kept glancing at me and my cane. The pitying glances were getting tiring. So here I am waiting to get my luggage.
"Hello John"
"Mycroft" Of course the 'British Government' would know that I'm home and what flight I was on. "Does Sherlock know?"
"He is unaware and at the moment he is at a crime scene with Lestrade. I'm afraid I do not have time to take you there myself but I have a car waiting for you. Also your luggage is being sent to Baker Street. " Mycroft smirks. "Follow me"
"Cheers" It comes out a bit sarcastic but at least I don't have to try to find a cab.
"Are you sure that you won't reconsider." Not this again
"I'm Sherlock's friend. I'm not going to spy on him for you." He did not seem surprised by my answer.
"It is good to see you again John."
"Bye Mycroft" Some things never change.
"Are you ready to leave sir?" the driver asks.
"Yes, thank you"
I'm finally going to get to see Sherlock. The last five years have been hectic. The first three and half years I was stationed in Germany. I only got to see him a handful of times during that period. Twice I came back to London and the other time Sherlock came to Germany. Then I found out I was to be sent to Afghanistan. Six months later I was at the airport. Sherlock came to see me off. I had seen him take on bullies, strangers, and even his family without any fear. For the first time I saw fear in his eyes. Not for himself but for me.
He made me promise that I would come home alive. I'm now able to keep that promise.
I can't wait to see Sherlock at work. I have never seen him solve a case in person or meet any of the yarders. I know about Lestrade only because Sherlock has spoken about him during our Skype sessions. All I know is that Sherlock believe that they're all idiot particularly some bloke called Anderson.
"We are here sir"
"Oh, thank you"
I start walking up to two police officers to ask about Sherlock.
"Why did Lestrade have to call him here? We don't need him." The rat-like man rants.
I instantly do not like this man for some reason.
"I don't know. One day we will get called to a crime scene and it will be Holmes who put the body there." The woman sneers.
I feel my face heat up. Calm down Watson. Just ask were Sherlock is and move on.
"I mean the guy is unhuman. He has no feelings and if he died not one single person would care." The man adds.
My hands are pulled into fists. I can't help but want to punch him in the face.
"He is such a freak" The disgust is easy enough to see on her face
That's it! No one calls Sherlock a freak and gets away with it.
I cough to get their attention.
"Can we help you?" the rat asks
"Yes I need to see Lestrade please." I force my voice to be calm.
The woman nods. "I'll go see if he has time to…"
"I'm right here Donavan." A gray haired man speaks up by the door.
"Hello" he shakes my hand "How can I help you?"
"Could you please tell me why your officers are acting like spoiled brats?" My voice turns to ice.
"Who do you think you are?" the woman shrieks.
"John Watson but you can call me Captain Watson." It's time to show these people what happens when you mess with my best friend.