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Chapter 5: A New Victim and a New Emotion  
      You know, most people have a very relaxed day on a Sunday. They usually just sit around and watch reruns all day, well I think that's what a normal person would do anyway. It's what I would do if I was normal. Probably watch Doctor Who or Supernatural until it's Monday and I have to work again… But then again, I'm not normal, and I'm not most people. However, my Sundays don't usually involve me going to a crime scene.
     The day started pretty much like normal. I wake up, I walk to the kitchen, say hello to the head in the fridge and get something to eat. Yes, I'm still staying at Sherlock and John's. I'd then quickly grab my clothes for the day and head to the bathroom to get changed before making tea for the boys with some breakfast for them. What was different however was that I didn't get a chance to say hello when Sherlock emerged from his room as it was in a hurry as he ran to grab his coat and scarf. “We have a case John!” He called up the stairs before walking over to the table and threw me my phone. I checked it to find several missed calls and texts from Lestrade. A new victim from the murderer who leaves nothing but blood. John soon slumped into the room wearing his normal outfit, looking still very tired with bed hair to match, he walked over to me and laid his head on my shoulder groaning tiredly as he did so. “Come on John!” Sherlock groaned, frustrated that his companion wasn't more excited for a new case like he was, to which the shorter man glared at him.
“It's 6AM on a Sunday morning Sherlock!” John whined.
“Crime never sleeps John!” Sherlock exclaimed before grabbing my jacket and throwing it at me and rushing out. I quickly put it on and pulled John along by the hand while trying to keep up with the consulting detective's fast pace and long strides. Which is not an easy task, mind you. Soon we arrived at the crime scene only to see Anderson's idiotic face. Just being near him is mind numbing. I avoid him at almost all costs usually. Refusing to look at him, I pull John over to the body to get an early inspection while Sherlock shows off.
And that leads us to here. John and I staring at a man's body. Nothing connecting the victims apart from the style they're killed in. Very messy work, the killer shows no sign of trying to adapt or perfect their killing technique. A ton of blood everywhere… the body in the middle of the room. Middle aged. Banker. Not particularly skilled in much. Never been married. Wouldn't be missed… a difference in the pattern? Very slight… the others had family… this man was alone. Maybe he knew the killer. Soon my mind, as if like clock work, started looking for patterns in the blood. I was a blood splatter analyst after all, it's a habit. The blood splatters didn't match the various stab wounds that littered the poor man's torso. The wounds must have been made after the victim died… that means the blood doesn't belong to him. “We need to collect the blood and test it with the present victims DNA.” That made heads turn.
“But it's clearly from the victim, why would you think otherwise?” Anderson's voice filled the air. Sherlock is not the only person I hear 'Punch me in the face' in subtext while they talk.
“Because the blood splatters don't match the wounds, isn't that right (First)?” Thank the lord we have men like Lestrade. I nod my head and start explaining that the person who was stabbed would have to be standing up for the blood to splatter the way it has while the victim was clearly laying down as he was stabbed, most likely already dead.
Sherlock soon after began his magic, stating what I had deduced in my head and linking him to a nearby bank which the previous victim had been seen visiting and withdrawing a suspicious amount of money. And the man that had helped that victim had been this victim. But this brings us to the problems that will probably slow the case down, where was this man killed? Who was originally killed here? Why are patterns just showing up now? And the most important, who did this? Whoever it was has now run into a problem. The problem can be split up into four sections. Sherlock, John, the Yard and I. The Yard are less of a problem than the rest of us because they're all idiots, well apart from one or two.
It took a while for enough blood to be collected as it began to dry rapidly and the rest that couldn't be collected was cleaned away as blood in a cinema bathroom was unsanitary, but that's just stating the obvious, the less obvious reason was that the owner was having a temper tantrum and wanted the blood and the Yard gone. It was 1PM now, we had spent 7 hours talking to the Yard, collecting samples, cleaning up the blood and moving the body. I held John's hand for most of it as he kept drifting off back to sleep. Several times during those 7 long hours I noticed Sherlock glance at John and I's intertwined hands. I deduced he was curious on how close John and I really were and if anything was happening between us. In all honesty, I see John as a brother, that's how I've always seen him. Sure he had a crush on me when we were younger but that changed after I told him I didn't feel the same way and ever since then we've acted just like we do now.
“Sherlock, John needs sleep, lets head back to the flat. No point in beating a dead horse.” I state and lead John away. I hear Sherlock mutter under his breath before following John and I. He calls for a cab and then we journey back home.
The journey was fairly awkward. John was sleeping on my shoulder, Sherlock was muttering to himself and the driver kept trying to make conversation, lucky the drive was short so it didn't last too long. After we arrived back at the flat I laid John on his bed, then I decided to watch TV in the front room, hoping Sherlock wasn't there so I could watch Supernatural. Unfortunately for me he was laying across the sofa, so I made a cup of tea and sat in his seat. “You could've sat in John's seat you know.” 'Ah so he's not in his mind palace.'
“Yours is next to the window and has a better view of the room.” I state with a shrug as he leans up from the lying position he was previously in and looks at me with an eyebrow raised. 'He's truly something to admire…' And for one of the first times in my life… I agree with the side that I always deemed to be useless but could it be… that this man who is so much like me and yet so different has caught my interest in a way no one else could? This requires experimenting… very controlled experimenting… I can't let this get out of control.
“Very well...” Is all he said before he went back into his mind palace leaving the room silent once again. Using this chance I pull my knees up and hug them as enter my mind mansion. The room with things relating to John was fully updated but a new room next to it was added, and filled with everything to do with Sherlock, from the way his curls bounce to his adorable real smile. Seems like my subconscious has been busy. The room isn't very big but still big enough to concern me. I step out of the room and wander into storage where various files not important enough for a room but important enough to not just be stored normally are held. This is usually where I put cases I've worked on or am currently working on. I look through what I know about serial killers. All adapt… all change the way they kill to perfect their technique… most, if not all, have a pattern which they follow. But this is usually obvious from the beginning so why has a pattern only started to appear? We're missing something… something hiding in plain sight and it's driving me crazy! “You're not breathing.” Sherlock states and snaps me out of my thoughts. I take a couple of deep breaths as I realise he was telling the truth.
“Sorry, was busy thinking” He raised an eyebrow. 'Damn that eyebrow raise.'
“Thinking leads you to not breath?” He asks before standing up and making his way to me. “I don't think that's healthy.”
“Neither is smoking but you still do it.” I reply with a chuckle and he rolls his eyes.
“I'm being serious.” He states, bending down to try and get to my eye level. 'He has gorgeous eyes…' 'Stop it.'
“So am I.” He chuckles slightly and looks directly into my eyes. I study his eyes and find that his pupils dilated slightly. 'He feels the same? No… that's a guess… guessing is bad, it's not accurate.'
Without realising it we both inched closer… so close to doing something I've been warned against… something I've never done before… an intimate touch…
     “Anyone else hungry?” John's voice broke through our moment of weakness and we snap apart from each other. We turn to look at him as he walks in and simultaneously nod. “Alright, I'll go get something, be back in a bit!” He calls out as he grabs his jacket and leaves. Sherlock and I turn to look at each other. 
 Just one question now filled our minds. What the hell was that?
Hopefully this makes up for chapter 4.
Any questions or suggestions? Leave a comment!
Sherlock and the cast belong to the appropriate owners.
You belong to you.
Picture belongs to its rightful owner.
First Chapter - Prologue
Previous Chapter - A 'Unique Meeting' with Mr M. Holmes
Next Chapter - The Music Box
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