Rules on the Fridge [A BBC Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction] (Completed)

Is Longing To Be

♪ Coup De Foudre ♪

John stayed with his friend for two nights, heard about the next murder, and immediately said he'd have to cut it short and went to see Holmes at the morgue with Lestrade and Molly. Molly had everything typed out, but had not sent it through yet as Holmes wanted to look at the body.

He was walking around it with a pocket-magnifier and looking at various parts of the body as it was found. John stared at it in horror, seeing the puncture wounds – much more obvious now. They weren't made by a syringe this time. The puncture wounds were made with some kind of harpoon, having gone through the body and punctured a wooden surface – small wooden splinters were left on the body. Two puncture wounds – one through the head, and one through the bowels. Hard to say which came first, but Holmes thought the heart so that's what they assumed for the time being – though it was trivial, really.

John sighed as he watched, feeling guilt over this person having been killed. Could've had a family, children... Didn't seem old, either. Nowhere near middle-aged. Prime-time, John thought. Holmes bustled about, sighing as he tilted his head, his neck stretching.

"What is it?" Lestrade asked, making Holmes look at him with an absolutely dumbfounded face.

"It's quite intriguing – there's nothing." He said, shrugging. "Harpoon wounds, nothing else. Obviously that's what you've found that killed him." He said.

"Well, naturally." Lestrade said, crossing his arms.

"Well, you're wrong. Again, some kind of other deterioration – I guarantee it." He said. "Frontal lobe, most likely – seems to be a popular location." He said, taking his rubber gloves off and throwing them out. "Molly? Send me all the records so far. John? Come with me."

Holmes seemed almost back to normal after two days away – although, he also seemed quite moody and sporadic. "So, you really found nothing new on the body?" John asked in the cab on the way back.

"Quite the contrary." Holmes said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I've found everything I need. You coming back to Baker Street? I appreciate your company."

"Right." John sighed, opening the door of the cab as they pulled up.

♫ ♫ ♫

They walked in, John plopping back into his original chair, sensing that they were out of groceries as his stomach rumbled. He was too agitated, however, to make any effort towards even thinking about take-away.

"So, what'd you find then?" John asked, his eyes closed as he sighed heavily, listening to Holmes bustle about in the kitchen, pacing and mumbling to himself. "Sherlock?" He inquired, looking behind him. Holmes was busy, walking around the table, changing directions whenever he had a contradictory thought.

"Mrs. Hudson!" He suddenly yelled, just as John was about to stand. She came down in a hurry, wondering if there was a break-in or something. "I need the floor-plans for the flat." Mrs. Hudson nodded, making John question once again how Mrs. Hudson was such a contradictory person – she was so sweet, and yet had so many... quirks.

A nice car, drugs... you name it.

Holmes stared at the plans for hardly a minute before telling John to make sure he bolted his windows that night.

"I always have my windows bolted." John sighed, putting his hands on the table as he watched his flatmate enjoy the stress-level that was bubbling around him. "It comes with being a soldier."

"With having been a soldier."

"A veteran, then."

They both hummed in agreement, shaking their heads. John wondered what he could do to help, then answered his own question as he opened his mouth to ask and Holmes shushed him. He sat down in his chair, rubbing his temples as he waited for Holmes to finish what he was doing.