Sherlock ran down the street towards John and Mary's new flat. Honestly, their decision to live away from Sherlock was just ridiculous. He had no need for a car before, and he certainly didn't want to need a car now. And of course, their place wasn't far enough away to use a taxi cost effectively.

As he ran up to their front door, he supposed he could have called. It was after dark, though, so they would undoubtedly be home.

Sherlock rang the bell and waited, excited about the new case. When he saw the story in the newspaper, he was thinking of getting involved right then and there. This case was different and interesting. But when the boy's mother came by, asking for his help, the case became something else. It was now a challenge that Sherlock was all too willing to accept. Of course, when the client rang, and Sherlock noticed John's empty chair, he knew he must involve his friend in the case.

It just wasn't fun without him. Sherlock would never admit that John's presence helped him focus, and he most certainly would not let anyone know how much he enjoyed John's praises of Sherlock's deductions. Sherlock knew how clever he was. He didn't need anyone else to tell him. But it was...nice to hear.

Mary answered the door, asking, "Sherlock, have you any idea what time it is?" Suddenly, Sherlock did not feel so smart. He'd been expecting John to answer the door. Mary was pregnant, and it was very late. Sleep is important during the last trimester of pregnancy. Why didn't John answer the door?

"I have a case," Sherlock said.

Mary sighed and said, "You should really call next time, dear."

Sherlock nodded and took a few steps away from the door. He really shouldn't be bothering John. John had a wife with a child on the way. He didn't have time for Sherlock or cases popping up late at night. Sherlock was just in the way again.

"Sherlock?" Mary asked, "Where are you going?" Sherlock looked at Mary quizzically. She didn't want him to leave?

"You do want to see John, yes? He's inside," she said.

Sherlock smiled at Mary as he hopped over the threshold and past Mary. John wasn't in the living room, so Sherlock continued to John's bedroom.

"Hello, John," Sherlock greeted.

"What on earth are you doing here so late?" John asked. John set the book he was reading aside, sat up in bed, and looked at Sherlock with what seemed like worry.

"We have a case," Sherlock said, "Camden Phillips, a teenager, died today in the hospital of old age. He went missing a few days ago, but after he died, the DNA was a perfect match to Camden, and it was clear that the boy didn't go missing. He aged about eighty years and was unidentifiable in the hospital. What is that book you're reading?"

John registered the information about the case but turned all but red when he saw Sherlock was staring at John's book.

Sherlock crossed the room at John's reaction and grabbed the book before John could reach it. It looked like a poorly written attempt at a romance novel.

"What is 'Supernatural'? And why are you reading it?" Sherlock asked. John snatched the book from Sherlock, putting it back on the end table.

John said, "It's a fiction series, and I'm reading it, because it has a good story."

"It's a series?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. It's a series," John said.

"It looks awful."

"Well, that's your opinion."

"The publishing style is all wrong, the font they've used on the cover is actually supposed to repel readers, Carver Edlund is clearly a pseudonym and a bad one at that, and I can't imagine what kind of story would encourage readers to look past those factors."

John sighed and got out of bed, "That is still your opinion. Now, the case. Is there any way the DNA could have been tampered with? It's not like teenagers just age their entire lifespan overnight."

John walked past Sherlock and sat in his chair in the living room.

Sherlock nodded, following his friend. "That is one option," he said, "Perhaps the DNA was done wrong or misread. The body shall have been moved to St. Bart's by now. Let's look into it."

John's eyes widened slightly, and he asked, "Do you know what time it is?"

"It's late," Sherlock said, "But we have a case. The game is on."

John shook his head, "No. The game is not on. The game can be on tomorrow. I need sleep, Sherlock."

"You weren't sleeping. You were reading."

"Yes," John said, "Reading before bed is a fairly common practice."

Sherlock sighed, "Fine. Tomorrow."

John smiled gratefully and led Sherlock to the door.

As they approached the door, John asked, "It's a bit late for a taxi. How did you get here?"

"I ran," Sherlock said.

"You ran here?" John asked, "From Baker Street? In the middle of the night?" Sherlock stepped across the threshold and took a deep breath. It seemed perfectly logical to him why he used the methods he did to get to John's flat.

"Sherlock, that's ridiculous," John said.

Sherlock faced his friend and said, "It's not ridiculous. I needed to tell you of the case, and I was hoping we'd get working on it tonight. I don't own a car, you live too close to use a taxi but too far away to walk and not lose time. Running was the best option."

"You could've called before coming over."

"I wouldn't have had to if you still lived on Baker Street," Sherlock said.

John looked like Sherlock had slapped him, and honestly, that reaction confused Sherlock. He hadn't meant any offense. He was just telling John the truth. If John still lived on Baker Street, he wouldn't have had to run or call or come over. It would have made things easier and simpler.

"Are you saying that I shouldn't have moved in with my wife?" John asked, clearly irritated.

Sherlock sighed. That was obviously not what he meant.

Sherlock clarified, "No, I am simply stating that if you still lived on Baker Street, it would have been easier to tell you about the case. And I see no reason why Mary couldn't live on Baker Street. She could have moved in with you."

"No reason? I'm not sure Mary would be comfortable with body parts lying around in the fridge or bullet holes being blasted into the wall because you got bored," John said.

"That was one time. I don't think I understand—"

"You're a difficult person to live with, Sherlock," John said.

So, that was it. It was him. Sherlock was the reason John and Mary were inconveniently far away. He would be in the way. And it seemed that the distance still hadn't spared them the burden of his company.

Sherlock nodded and said, "I'll leave you to it, then." He walked away from the door and headed down the street.

"Sherlock," John said.

Sherlock ignored him and kept walking.

"Sherlock!" John tried again.

The sound of footsteps made Sherlock stop.

John ran up to Sherlock and said, "I didn't mean—"

Sherlock cut him off, "I'm going to St. Bart's to recheck the DNA."

John nodded and looked back towards his flat. "Well," he said, "I hope this case is worth going to St. Bart's in my pajamas."

Sherlock grinned as they walked towards the hospital.