Like Wire (A BBC Sherlock Fan Fiction)

[twenty]

"There!" Sherlock stabbed at the screen of Johns laptop, tipping it back slightly.

"Willow Martins," John read aloud, "accused a year 7 of attempted murder towards herself. She says she was attacked from behind - a weak blow to the head and then two hands around her neck, in an attempt at asphyxiation,"

"Ironic, huh, asphyxiation," Sherlock chuckled, remembering one of their first conversations, "I promise it wasn't me. It couldn't be anyway. Look at the dates, this is a year ahead of us,"

"You're saying it could be the same person that killed Alexa?" John asked pensively.

"Could be," Sherlock suggested, pouncing forward, "It's a stab in the dark, but we have no other leads,"

"Where are we going?"

"My brother, he was at school when this mystery person was," Sherlock elucidated yearningly.

"Oh, Sherlock. What did happen to your roommate?" John asked, genuinely curious after Sherlock had reminded him of their first encounter.

"He got expelled," Sherlock laughed.

In disbelief and amazement John just laughed, Sherlock was just overwhelmingly brilliant.

* * *

The police hadn't made it obvious that Sherlock was under suspicion, they probably thought if people were to start accusing him again then Sherlock would only run off and plan more murders.

Not even Mycroft knew and Sherlock wasn't willing to tell him, though he had indicated things were going downhill and Mycroft was sure to figure things out soon - if not already.

Sherlock found Mycroft angrily scolding a younger, undisciplined student (who looked excessively terrified at that moment.)

"Mycroft, I need to talk to you," Sherlock told him.

Mycroft scowled at the student before moving out the way, where he scuttled nervously off.

"Yes?"

"Not here," Sherlock hissed, aware if his fellow classmates were to here him talking about the murders they were sure to diagnose him as guilty.

"Fine," Mycroft growled, acknowledging John with a nod of the head.

Mycroft strolled ahead, hands formally behind his back, Sherlock followed in a similar fashion, slowing down so John could keep up - he was small.

Mycroft shuffled the two into his own room, shared with Greg. It was an organised room, two well cleaned arm chairs, one leaning against the window and the other opposite. The beds were in the same position as Sherlock and Johns, though they were kept neat and straightened.

"Willow Martins," Sherlock spoke as the door shut behind Mycroft.

"Willow Martins, in the year above you. She claimed to have been attacked from behind - hit on the back of the head and then strangled. She hit the person, knocking them over but never told anyone who her attacker was - other than the fact they were in the same year," Mycroft informed him, reading from his memory.

"Alright, Wikipedia, calm down," Sherlock demanded with an eye roll.

"What about her?" Mycroft asked.