Sherlock, Why Didn't You Tell Me?

Turning The Tables

When Sherlock had figured out every detail of what had happened, he concluded he had been poisoned. He remembered just last week a client by the name of Harry Davidson gave him a cup of tea while visiting. He claimed he just wanted to observe the work of his idol- Sherlock Holmes. Normally, Sherlock would have declined this cup of tea faster than a fish to land, but today, Mrs. Hudson was out, and therefore he didn't have his morning tea. He remembered it tasting quite awful, and feeling quite dizzy only an hour later. He arose from his chair abruptly, and looked around for further clues. He straightened everything in his apartment-To his surprise-And found he rather liked it that way. When he straightened the books, he found a note, slid between the covers of "Moby Dick" and "Where The Fern Grows". He opened it up carefully, holding his breath in case of poison powder, but found none. He exhaled his breath, and read the words that were scratched onto the paper. He could barely read them, for they resembled chicken scratches. When he focused, he saw it read: "like that Sherlock? The lovely Sherlock Holmes, put through sickness. Johns next. Better save him!" Sherlock immediately arose, placing the note on his mantel, so he could investigate it further later. He ran down the stairs, flinging his coat on and tying his scarf as he ran. When he was outside, he flung his arms into the air and hailed a cab. He threw himself into the backseat, and told the cabby where to go. While he waited, he texted Mary, telling her to keep John in her sights. He didn't text john, for fear someone would track the message directly. When the cab pulled onto John's street, Sherlock paid the toll, and ran to John's door. He didn't even knock, he used his key, and began the search for John. He looked around, shouting his name. When Sherlock ran through the hallway, John ran into Sherlock. Taken aback, Sherlock was speechless. He sprang up, and John said "What are you doing here?" "John." He replied, panting. "You need to stay with me, someone wants to kill you." John looked stunned. "What?" He eventually replied. "Please John, trust me." Sherlock said. John nodded, and followed him to his old flat.
John never really worried about these shenanigans, because Mary always understood, and he had a change of clothes at Sherlocks house, But today was different. He actually was quite scared. He followed Sherlock closely, careful not to lose him in any of the crowds. When they reached Baker Street, John was taken aback by the clean flat. "You, cleaned?" He asked. Sherlock fixed a pencil on the desk until it was straight. "I can't stand it dirty anymore." He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Even disposed of the head you see?" John chuckled and sat down in his old armchair. He picked up an old newspaper that lie neatly on the table beside the chair, and read the headline. "Red Headed Bandit Strikes again!" It read. "Sherlock?" He started. "Have you looked into this?" He held the newspaper so Sherlock could see it from the kitchen. Sherlock turned around, and ran to the paper. He grabbed it out of John's hand. "John; this is the man- The man who tried to kill me, and wants to kill you!" John arose abruptly, and looked closer at the picture. "You mean your client?" Sherlock nodded and slammed himself into his chair, and opened his laptop. His fingers flew across the keys, as he researched this man. After a few minutes, he started "Luke Zeros. Convicted of multiple murders, robberies, and kidnappings. There is a Warrant for his arrest." Sherlock's voice faded just as a knock came to the door. He closed his laptop, and went to answer it. John got up, stood behind the door, and drew his gun. Sherlock opened the door, and behind it was Luke; he also had his gun drawn. "Why hello!" He walked in, and started to chuckle. "You won't be needing that John. He turned to Sherlock, who was now standing next to John. "Whoops!" He said, and cocked the gun, as it was pointed at Sherlock. Not milliseconds before the shot was fired, John stepped in front of Sherlock, dropping his gun. When the bullet made contact, John let out a yell, and fell to the ground. After the fact, Luke started to cackle. "Exactly what I intended to happen..." He turned around as Sherlock picked up John's gun and cocked it. Luke spun around "Why Sherlock; You wouldn't. Remember..." He took a step closer. "You need me." Sherlock examined him, and replied "Maybe, but not here with that leg in tact." He pointed the barrel down and shot him in the leg. He threw the gun across the room and called the ambulance. As soon as he'd finished, he went to John. "John! Hang on. You'll be ok." And with that, John's vision faded.