Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles - A Johnlock Story

Back to Work

Johns POV

It was two weeks after the shooting when Sherlock was finally cleared by Lestrade to go back into case solving, and two days after the infection had stopped. It was mid-December by now, with Christmas just around the corner. I was awoken to Sherlock dashing about the flat yelling, "We have a case, John, we have a case!" He was struggling to get his trousers on he was so excited. I rubbed my eyes, still tired but couldn't hold back my laughter at the sight of him.

"Excited?" I asked, getting out of bed to get myself dressed. "Very," he smiled, grabbing my face and kissing me enthusiastically. I slipped into a pair of trousers and a jumper quite quickly, seeing Sherlock's child-like impatience. He was waiting by the door for me, talking to Mrs. Hudson.

"Just look at you, all dashing about, it's not decent," she remarked. He laughed and kissed her cheek, "the game is on." He saw me, and grabbed my hand, practically dragging me out the door. I called out my goodbye to Mrs. Hudson, as I was dragged into a cab. "Where's the crime scene?" I asked, slightly out of breath. "Alley way, about 20 miles east." (AN: literally no idea if this alleyway exists, just roll with it) the corners of his bow shaped lips were turned upwards, eyes gleaming with excitement. He was practically bouncing up and down in his seat, and I chuckled at the sight. When we arrived at the crime scene, I was left to pay the cabbie as always. Not that I minded, he always paid for dinner and everything else anyway.

Donovan was arguing with Sherlock when I'd caught up. "Lestrade called me, I'm more than sure he told you," he looked annoyedly at her until she finally let us in. The alleyway was quite tight, with only enough room for Sherlock to walk single file. He lead in front but reached his hand back for my own. I smiled faintly and grabbed it. Donovan looked disgusted at us, trailing behind. We arrive at the body and Sherlock gave my hand a final squeeze before crouching down to examine the body.

I stood back with Lestrade, watching Sherlock work. The victim was a college age girl in a pair of jeans and hoodie with long black hair. She was Japanese, and her neck was completely covered in blood. After a few minutes of examining and flittering over the girl, Sherlock turned back to us.

"College girl studying medicine, not suicide as the killer wants you to think," he waved a crumpled note, "No, the killer slit her throat twice, suicide would've been only once. Now-" Lestrade cut him off, confused. "Sherlock, there's only one cut," he corrected, somewhat confused. Sherlock squinted his eyes at him, "there's two, the first time he missed the jugular, and being a medical student himself, he knew that the original cut he made was not lethal so he made a second and connected the two to make it seem like one." Anderson, who stood next to Lestrade, frowned. "How do we know he was a medical student too?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to him. "Any other major wouldn't have let him understand exactly where to cut or that where he did cut wouldn't kill her."

"Fantastic!" I muttered, and Sherlock threw a smile and wink in my direction before continuing. "Now, who was her killer, that's the interesting question. She's sober, and wearing modest clothes," he gestured to her jeans and hoodie, "yet she was going home with someone, a man she knew. Find everyone close to her and find any holes in their alibis. Your killer will be close to her, possibly a male best friend going to make advances," Sherlock finished, looking in my direction.

"What does the note say?" Lestrade asked arms crossed over his chest, but he wasn't skeptical. Sherlock looked back at the crumpled paper. "I'm sorry, I couldn't do it anymore. I love you, mum and dad. Signed Lisa." Sherlock handed it to Lestrade. "Brilliant," I smiled at him and he smiled toothlessly back. Lestrade looked between the two of us and uncrossed his arms. "Got it, I assume you'll want to question them too?" Sherlock nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. He finally broke eye contact and turned to him, "yes, I need the note too." Anderson protested in the back, but Lestrade handed it back to him. "I'll text you if I find anything, alright?" Lestrade walked away to deal with the press for the case.