Crimes in heart [Sherlock x Male Oc]

Chapter One

I'm going to be honest here. If someone had told me a few years ago that I would become a governmental spy, I would have laughed. I was not at all good at spying. When playing hide and seek as a child, I was always the first to find out. I couldn't master the skill of hiding in plain sight, nor could I ever find good enough hiding spots. That, and I am way too loud. I never seem to know when to keep my mouth shut. But then again, I guess that's one of the reasons why I joined the marine forces for a time. The British marines to be exact. They put me into place, sorted me out, and once they were done chewing, spat out a highly functioning citizen. Of course, I knew I couldn't stay in their ranks for long.
I itched for more of an adventure. Sitting around in a bunker waiting for a war was boring. I needed action, I wanted action. And so, by reuniting with a few old friends, I found my new adventure.

It was 2003, just six months after I had said goodbye to my life in barracks and rejoined society in search for a more exciting job. I was given the address to a shabby flat just a few nights after I got back. The address came from an unknown number in text form. It turned out that my old friend had already gotten an inkling that the Marines would not keep my attention for long. 
"Took you long enough. Did you have to keep me waiting for so long?" I laughed as I slid off my shoes at the door, tugging off my coat to hang up and dry. It was raining buckets outside again. I did not miss the rain.
"Oh? You're that impatient to see me again? I feel honored that you felt you missed me."
"Hardly, I just got...bored." His voice never seemed to change. I welcomed myself to his couch, a small, lumpy little thing that could have really used a bath. The flat smelled awful, like sulfur and something that had gone bad weeks ago. "Now that you are here, I need a second opinion. No one seems to understand a word I say, I was hoping you still had the same intelligence you had before you left to go...what was it again, pointlessly shooting guns at other people?" He stood in the center of the room in the very center of piles upon piles of papers and books scattered about. He was never going to change. I shook my head with a sloppy grin finding its way upon my face as I stood from the couch.
"It wasn't pointlessly shooting, at least not in your brother's eyes when he set me upon serving. But then again, you two are always sporting different opinions aren't you." I hummed looking over his shoulder, standing close to his side. "What is it that you need a second opinion on?"
"A case, obviously." He said, rolling his eyes, taking a step away from me to grab a piece of paper and holding it right in front of my face. "A murder case. Think you can stomach it?" There was a hint of mischief glinting through his eyes as he spoke. If he had been a stranger, I wouldn't have picked up on his slight joking tone. Lucky me, I wasn't a stranger. I had known this, in his own words, 'highly functioning sociopath', since later childhood.
"Give me the rundown then. And I'll tell you what I gather from there." He grinned, and so the adventure began.

I didn't manage to get back to my own flat till the wee hours. And even then, I wasn't able to rest. Sherlock had gotten me wired on case solving. Just like back before I had left. It was clear from this night alone just how much I missed the chaos my best friend, though he would claim to be a close childhood acquaintance, brought into my life on the constant.
The murder, as he explained, was a couple. They were found dead in their home by the neighbors after they noticed that the front door was still wide open for the world to come waltzing in. They, the neighbor, found the corpses of the couple and continued on to the police to report. Sherlock was called in a few days later to look over the crime scene as Lestrade, who I learned to be one of the few Scotland Yard detectives that actually believed Sherlock to a tee, admitted to a road block.
   
"A consulting detective, hm? Don't want to sit around in an office all day?" I teased, momentarily looking up from the paper I was reading over. It was a full autopsy of the husband and wife that were found dead.
"Mm, yes, The only one in the world." He replied, pausing to jot something down on his sheet music before picking up his bow and readjusting the violin under his chin. "Impressive, don't you agree." He was fishing for compliments once more. He was known to do so around me. Always loved showing off his most exquisite knowledge and highly professional, impossible seeming, deducting skills.
"Yes of course." I hummed looking back at the paper. "You know that's not a real thing right?"
"Course it is. I just happen to be the only one." he answered simply, plucking at a few strings before going right into the song he had been composing. It always helped him think, or at least focus the blurry blizzard of genius that was constantly swirling and churning.
I was coming up empty handed when it came to figuring out the killer. These reports were getting me nowhere. That and they were rather unhelpful. Full of gaps and holes that would have held such vital information if done a little more smartly. I sighed in exasperation and tossed the paper down on the messy stack before me.
"Useless, all of this junk. Full of holes and missing information." I grumbled, standing up to stretch out the stiffness that had settled in my joints. "Who wrote these up?"
"Someone who doesn't have the brain capacity to properly do their job." Sherlock murmured. "So you have fallen into the same frustrating hole as I. Glad we're on the same page." He set his violin down swiftly, moving with long strides to the front door to grab his coat, shoes and scarf. "Best be off then, if we want to fill those holes ourselves." I nodded, seeing no reason or need to argue.
"Lead the way."