Thief || Johnlock

Oxford graduates

John p.o.v.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?!"
I look at him shocked while he points his handgun at the fridge.
"If the woman would have really been shocked, she wouldn't have tried to call her partner. I mean even people with less IQ than me would want to call the cops not their partners before they would eventually be sent to death by a mischievous, masked person with a gun that's pointed on their forehead!" He looks at me while shooting next to the fridge 2 times.
Is he serious?  Every normal person would like to tell their partner how much they love them before they never get to tell them again.
"Maybe normal people who are not called Sherlock Holmes, have feelings and care more about their partners than how the case about their murder will be solved." I shake my head disappointed.
He lays the gun on the kitchen table, sighs loudly and glances at me.
"We still don't know who that man was." He smiles. It's a fake one. It's definitely a fake smile.
He plays with his thumbs. I can tell that he's nervous. He may have a mental breakdown in some minutes if he doesn't go and solve a case.
"Then maybe we should start trying to find out." I chuckle. What an idiot.

9 pm London eye

"Could I please take a short look at the bodies, Greg?" - "Oh, of course Dr. Watson."
"I would say these people have all been shot by a 16cm firearm. The suspect tends to shake while holding a gun, as you can see by each bullet wound. Every victim has each been shot twice, but not at heart and head or two times in the head, which is way more effective, no, he, she, let's say it shook with his hands and tried to shoot them two times in the head but missed the right area. The shaking means it has never really learned how to shoot so he wasn't in the military or is new in the criminal area..-" Sherlock looks focused and concentrated at the three cold, pale bodies laying in front of him.
"Sherlock, are you serious?! You asked me to come with you and help you with this case. And you can't even let me look at the bodies and give an explanation to their deaths!"
"But... isn't that what I just did? Or am I wrong Gary?"
"Greg"
"Oh pardon, Greg."
"You know what Sherlock? Solve the case alone. You are the genius here. You never need help." I shout angrily.
I stomp like a sassy diva to the tube station and leave the confused Sherlock alone.
I fall over my feet, stand up and hurry, till I arrive at the tube station.

Sherlock p.o.v.

"Did I say something wrong?"
Lestrade does a big shrug and looks at me with a face that hasn't been shaved for at least 3 days. I smell signs of tobacco on his coat.

"Don't smoke. That'll kill you."
"Says the drug addict." He says while grinning teasingly. I give him a small side-smile.

"So the killer went on the London Eye at night, with a gun, and nobody noticed? And then there was a power failure at the whole street? How come that happened? I thought we have security here in London!"
"Well..."
"Okay I don't need an answer. Your thinking is enough. The victims and the murderer must have a connection... The victims were schoolmates and visited the University of Oxford together, as you can see by the Oxford emblem that all three happen to wear under their jackets, probably very proud graduates, or maybe the sign of their group, which means the connection to their killer may be similar. That doesn't necessarily mean the killer wears the emblem, too, he would be very dumb if he did, tho. The victims were 30 to 40 years old, which means they weren't studying at Oxford anymore. And the killer has long, blonde hair. Probably a lady but you never know"

Lestrade opens his mouth impressed: "Where did you get that from now?"
I roll my eyes a bit annoyed.
"Well, isn't that obvious? It's so OBVIOUS ! Did you even open your eyes? How can it be possible  NOT to see those clues?! What is it like in your funny little brains? Must be so boring."
"Well, thank you Sherlock , but I think that's enough information for our funny little brains by now. We can get very far with those tips.
We'll call you if we need help.
Goodbye, Sherlock."
And that were his last words as he sent me home.