Chapter 6

BANG! BANG!

John froze in the entryway at the sound of gunfire. His heart sped up as he ran up the stairs. All his worry turned to irritation once he reached the landing and saw what was happening.

"What the hell are you doing?" He snapped at Sherlock. The pajama clad man held John's gun as he laid limp in his chair.

"Bored." He grumbled.

"What?"

"Bored!" Sherlock cried, jumping to his feet.

John covered his ears as Sherlock proceeded to shoot several shots more at the wall accompanied by exclamations of boredom. Even doing that quickly lost its appeal. Sherlock handed John the gun with an irritated sigh.

John quickly removed the bullets and promised himself to find a better place to keep his gun so there wouldn't be a repeat of this. Knowing Sherlock, he'd find it no matter where he put it just like how he always knew his laptop's password no matter how many times he changed it.

John ignored Sherlock's grumbling as the man threw himself onto the sofa. He stretched out across the cushions, barely fitting with his long legs.

"Where's L? I thought you were playing chess with him." John asked as he sighed at the mess in the kitchen.

"Got bored. Gave him to Mrs. Hudson to go shopping." John frowned.

"He's a person, Sherlock. He's not there just to entertain you. You can't just pass him to someone else once you're done with him." Sherlock hummed but said nothing.

John let out a sigh but dropped the subject for the moment; it was pointless to try and instruct Sherlock on such things when he was like this. Sherlock hadn't had any good cases in a while and the man was getting more and more antsy from lack of stimulation. John just hoped L knew not to take anything the man said personally at this time.

John's thoughts were interrupted at the sight of a severed head in the fridge.

"Oh fu-" John cut himself off as he slammed the fridge door closed. He opened it again a second later to see if he hadn't been hallucinating and that there was actually a head in the fridge. There was.

"A severed head." John called out, seeking an explanation from Sherlock.

"Just tea for me, thanks." Sherlock called back, as if he didn't know what John was talking about.

"There's a head in the fridge!" John cried as he walked back to where Sherlock was still lounging.

"Where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock asked, completely unconcerned with John's upset.

"You don't mind, do you?" He suddenly asked though John doubted that he actually cared. He was proven correct as Sherlock went on talking without waiting for John to respond. John didn't really even register what experiment Sherlock was working on now, he was still reeling from shock.

The conversation, if it could be called that, somehow turned to John's written account of their first case together on his blog, which proceeded to turn into an argument. It ended with Sherlock curling up on the sofa with his back to John. Fed up, John decided to leave and get some air. Sherlock had the nerve to ask him where he was going as if they hadn't just had a "little domestic" as Mrs. Hudson calls them. That irritated John all the more. He didn't even say anything to Mrs. Hudson or L as he passed them on the stairs.

L stopped to watch John storm off. He sighed but honestly wasn't surprised. Sherlock, being how he has been lately, was really trying John's patience. John was bound to reach the end of his rope sometime.

L wasn't so fond of the idea of being around Sherlock right then either, especially since he seemed to have resorted to shooting at the wall if the holes in the wallpaper and the smell of gunpowder were any indication. Sherlock sending him shopping with Mrs. Hudson had been a relief but at the same time L was a bit hurt by how Sherlock easily passed him on once he was done with him, like a child bored with a toy.

L didn't nurse the misconception that Sherlock had taken him in out of the goodness of his heart. He was taken in because his intellect had caught Sherlock's interest. It was a bit strange that he had been taken in because of the very thing that had always set him apart from everyone else. It wasn't bad though…it was rather nice really, like his intellect really wasn't something to be ashamed of. However, because of that, he held a constant fear of disappointing Sherlock, of not meeting his expectations. He feared he'd be sent to an orphanage then. With John it wasn't likely but Sherlock might want to.

L walked into the front room and watched as Sherlock stepped on the coffee table in his path to the window. He turned away and carried the shopping to the kitchen as Mrs. Hudson talked with Sherlock.

L carefully placed the bag down on the table, making sure not to knock any of the beakers over. He pulled the milk out and opened the fridge. The severed head staring back at him startled him. He had forgotten that Sherlock had put that in there earlier. That no doubt didn't sit well with John. He had tried to say as much to Sherlock earlier but L doubted that he heard him, as he was too involved in his thoughts. At least the head wasn't bleeding everywhere so there was no chance of it contaminating any of the food. He still put the milk on the free shelf as far from the head as possible, mostly to appease John.

"What have you done to my bloody wall?"

L smiled to himself. It seemed Mrs. Hudson finally noticed the spray paint and bullet holes. She didn't even bother scolding Sherlock, she just told him she'd put it on his rent then left. L reached for the rest of the shopping and picked up a container of juice, wondering if there will be enough room in the fridge with the head and milk in there.

BOOM! CRASH!

L was suddenly thrown forward into the fridge, dropping the juice. His cry was violently cut off as his head slammed into the metal. L bounced back and fell to the ground, head hurting and ears ringing. He heard Sherlock groan as his vision faded in and out for a second. Something must have been knocked loose, as the last thought he had before everything went dark wasn't to question what had happened or whether Sherlock was okay but rather that he was grateful that he hadn't opened the door again; otherwise he might have slammed into the severed head.

John ended up staying the night at Sarah's place. The sofa wasn't that comfortable but he felt a lot better now that he got a bit of a breather from Sherlock's antics. All his relief evaporated once he saw the news. The screen showed the aftermath of an explosion on Baker Street. He was out the door before his thoughts fully set in. He almost didn't remember to let Sarah know he was leaving. The cab had barely stopped before John was clambering out. The sight of the explosion made him freeze in his steps.

"My god."

He stared at the blown building across the street from the flat. There was still a lot of debris on sidewalk and street and many cops still hanging around. The flat itself clearly took some damage as the windows were missing their glass and were now boarded up.

John could easily imagine the glass being blasted inward, embedding itself into Sherlock and L as they were blown off their feet. The sight of an ambulance nearby didn't help to ease his worry. He quickly maneuvered around the lingering officers and made his way into the building. He ran up the stairs, fearing what he would find once he reached the landing.

John will admit what he did find was a bit…anticlimactic, though he was relieved. Sherlock and Mycroft were calmly sitting, staring at each other as if the flat wasn't still in some disarray from the explosion and that Sherlock didn't have a couple cuts on his hands and face from the glass, which were thankfully minor. He dismissed them once he saw that Sherlock was all right and turned his attention on L.

The boy was sitting on the sofa, watching the two. Unfortunately, he hadn't escaped the explosion unscathed like Sherlock. There was a large, angry bruise on the boy's forehead. John stepped forward and gently held his face up towards him to get a good look at it.

"What happened?" Clearly the boy had slammed into something from the force of the blast but John wanted to know just what.

"The explosion blew me into the fridge." L said, keeping his voice low and quiet. No doubt he had a headache if not a concussion.

"Did you feel dizzy or nauseous after?" John asked, keeping calm despite his worry.

"No."

That was good. L didn't seem to show any disorientation or sensitivity to light either. There wasn't too much swelling either thankfully. It seemed he didn't get a concussion though John still planned to keep an eye on him to make sure since he hadn't been there the moment it happened.

"Calm yourself Doctor. I already had the boy looked at." Mycroft drawled. John already assumed as such but still preferred to check himself.

"What happened?" John asked as he stepped back.

"Gas leak, apparently." Sherlock said, absently plucking at his violin. John was quickly forgotten it seemed as Sherlock went back to glaring at Mycroft.

"I can't. The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock said. John nearly scoffed, thinking of the bullet holes the wall received just last night. Mycroft of course knew his brother well enough not to believe that.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance." Sherlock continued plucking the strings, not budging an inch.

"How's the diet?" He asked instead, smirking slightly. Mycroft sighed but ignored his brother's attempt to irk him.

"Fine." Mycroft decided to try a different tactic. "Perhaps you can get through to him, John." John turned away from examining the damage by the windows to face Mycroft.

"What?" He was completely caught off guard, as he honestly never expected to be dragged right into this brotherly dispute of sorts.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent." Mycroft continued.

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock snapped slightly.

L silently watched as Mycroft and Sherlock continued back and forth for a bit, subject shifting to John for a minute. Mycroft stood up, holding out a file for Sherlock to take but he just stared stubbornly, clearly still refusing to take the case. Mycroft grimaced slightly then handed it to John instead. John looked down at it, looking uncertain.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends." Mycroft started explaining. Curious about what case Mycroft had for Sherlock, L listened intently. "A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?" John reasoned.

"Seems the logical assumption." Mycroft agreed.

"But ...?" John prompted with a brief smile.

"But"?" Mycroft repeated questioningly.

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." Sherlock smirked, proud of John's astuteness.

Mycroft went on the explain that what he wanted was for Sherlock to find the missing missile plans that West had in his possession.

"You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you." Mycroft said sternly, standing in front of the still sitting detective. Sherlock took a deep breath and placed his violin on his shoulder, ready to play. He started straight into his brother's eyes.

"I'd like to see you try."

Undeterred, Mycroft leaned down into his face.

"Think it over." His tone now clearly held an underlining threat though L wasn't sure just what Mycroft would do if Sherlock still refused him. Sherlock stared back at him, unimpressed. Mycroft turned and picked up his coat off the back of John's chair.

"Goodbye, John." He said as he passed on the way to the door, stopping long enough to shake hands with the doctor. "See you very soon." He said with a very unsettling grin.

L cringed as Sherlock started playing short, ear grating notes, clearly meant to push Mycroft to leave faster. John frowned at Sherlock but silently settled on the coffee table. Knowing he would be drowned out, Mycroft merely nodded L's way as a means of farewell. Sherlock kept playing until Mycroft was down the stairs. He placed his violin in his lap with an annoyed huff. John waited till he heard the front door close before speaking.

"Why'd you lie? You've got nothing on, not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

L felt the question was unnecessary. Sherlock clearly didn't want to take the case simply because it was Mycroft giving it to him; there was clearly some bad history between them. Sherlock shrugged.

"Why shouldn't I?" He replied. John clearly figured it out then as he nodded.

"Oh. Nice." Sherlock's eyes drifted in his direction, prompting him to elaborate.

"Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere." Sherlock turned and opened his mouth but the sudden ringing of his cell phone interrupted his protests. He irritably fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and answered it. He quietly listened for a bit. The shift of his expression let L know right away who it was.

"Of course. How could I refuse?" He hung up and eagerly sprung off his chair.

"Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?" Sherlock asked John as he passed him.

"If you want me to." John stood up, ready to follow. L also got up to follow, knowing that Sherlock expected him to.

"Of course." Sherlock picked up his coat and stopped. He slipped it on and faced John.

"I'd be lost without my blogger." He said with a small grin.

It was a bit of an odd thing for Sherlock to say out of nowhere but the smile on John's face told L there was a reason for it; it looked like Sherlock was trying to make amends for something, most likely whatever set John off last night. Whatever it was, it helped put John in a better mood. He stared after Sherlock with a warm smile as he watched the man rush down the stairs as he waited for L to finish putting on his coat and shoes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones." Lestrade asked as they followed him to his office.

"Obviously." Sherlock drawled.

"You'll love this. That explosion..."

"Gas leak, yes?"

"No."

"No?" Sherlock actually sounded surprised.

"No. Made to look like one."

"What?" John asked as Sherlock stopped to stare at the white envelope on Lestrade's desk.

"Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box, a very strong box, and inside it was this." Lestrade explained, pointing at the envelope.

"You haven't opened it?" Sherlock asked.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?"

L frowned at that, feeling very unsettled. The fact that the explosion had something to do with Sherlock didn't bode well. Sherlock seemed to be having similar misgivings as he hesitated slightly before picking it up. L silently watched Sherlock examine the envelope under a lamp before spouting information about it that Scotland Yard wouldn't have bothered with. Sherlock came back over to the desk and picked up a letter opener. L tensed unintentionally as Sherlock carefully slit it open and looked inside. The man's mouth fell open slightly, showing his surprise. He pulled out a pink iPhone. L didn't know what to think but John's reaction wasn't reassuring. The doctor was clearly shocked and not in a good way.

"But that's…that's the phone, the pink phone."

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade asked, disbelieving. Sherlock had shrugged off his surprise by then and started really looking at the phone.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like-" Sherlock stopped suddenly and faced Lestrade just as Donovan came into the office with files in hand.

"The Study in Pink? You read his blog?" Sherlock asked, looking surprised and a bit offended.

"Course I read his blog! We all do. D'you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?" Lestrade asked, looking rather skeptical but at the same time not so much.

Donovan sniggered loudly, not at all attempting to hide her amusement. Having developed a rather low opinion of the woman from her treatment of Sherlock, L openly glared at her but she didn't notice. Sherlock also glared at her as he took off his gloves but she clearly didn't care. John looked notably embarrassed but stayed quiet. Sherlock clearly didn't take too kindly to what John had written in his blog but L still planned on checking it out later if John let him use his laptop.

Sherlock waited till Donovan left the room before focusing back on the phone. He turned it every which way, taking in every detail of it.

"It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new. Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership." He threw John a sharp look but John did his best to ignore it. Sherlock finally switched on the phone.

"You have one new message." L moved closer, cautiously curious. From the phone came four short pips then a long pip.

"Is that it?" John asked, clearly not understanding the meaning of the message.

"No. That's not it." Sherlock said, looking down at the phone. Lestrade and John joined him in looking at the phone but L was stuck waiting for someone to show him. He didn't speak up this time though as the thoughtful look on Sherlock's face showed he was already turning whatever it was over in his mind and L didn't wish to interrupt. Lestrade clearly had no issue doing so.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!" He asked, angrily.

"It's a warning." Sherlock said, still gazing thoughtfully down at the phone. L had that bad feeling again.

"A warning?" John asked, looking just as concerned as L now.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's gonna happen again." Sherlock quickly explained. He paused to glance down at the phone once more.

"I've seen this place before." He started for the door. L, John and Lestrade quickly followed.

"H-hang on. What's gonna happen again?" Sherlock stopped and raised his hands dramatically.

"Boom!"

L finally got a glimpse of the photo on the phone in the cab ride back to Baker Street. The fact they were going to Baker Street was a big indication of the location of the photo so he wasn't surprised when Sherlock stopped in front of the door that read 221c and called out for Mrs. Hudson. The fact that the bomber chose this location was very concerning; L really got the feeling that this truly was all about Sherlock and that didn't sit well with him. Mrs. Hudson opened the door for them and was quickly left in the hallway without a word of thanks.

They slowly walked down the stairs and entered the dark, rather dreary living room. The room looked exactly as it did in the photograph on the phone with one exception. In the middle of the floor was a pair of trainers. Sherlock went to move towards them but John held out a hand to stop him.

"He's a bomber, remember." John cautioned, standing tense and rigid.

Sherlock stopped for a moment then continued slowly towards the trainers and John reluctantly let him. Sherlock crouched down then put his hands on the floor and leaned forward. He lowered his body further and got even closer. L watched, just as tense as John and Lestrade, worried there would be another explosion but this time with them as casualties. The phone rang suddenly, making them all jump, even Sherlock tensed in surprise. He remained on the floor for a second then stood up. He pulled out the iPhone and looked down at it. He paused for a second then switched on the speaker.

"Hello?" He said softly into the phone. They all heard a woman draw a shaky breath before speaking.

"H-hello...sexy." The woman was clearly crying but her words didn't fit…like they weren't her own.

"Who's this?" Sherlock asked, looking unsettled but overall composed.

"I've…sent you...a little puzzle...just to say hi." L frowned, feeling this ominous dread form.

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"I-I'm not...crying...I'm typing...and this...stupid...bitch...is reading it out." Seemed L's hunch was right and no doubt Sherlock already figured that out as well.

"The curtain rises." Sherlock said softly to himself.

"What?" John asked a bit tensely.

"I've been expecting this for some time." Sherlock explained, turning his head minutely in their direction before focusing solely on the phone call again.

"Twelve hours to solve...my puzzle, Sherlock...or I'm going...to be...so naughty." The phone went dead then, leaving them all in tense silence. L couldn't shake this heavy feeling in his gut, which felt all the heavier as Sherlock eagerly but carefully bagged the shoes and left.

The ride to Barts Hospital was silent as Sherlock was completely absorbed in his thoughts on the case. John also seemed to have some thoughts of his own dwelling on his mind and L had a pretty good idea what they were. Sherlock brought the trainers to one of the labs at the hospital and examined them carefully. L silently watched as he dug something from the treads and placed it under a microscope.

The room was silent for a long while as Sherlock continued to run tests. John had started pacing back and forth a while ago, still dwelling on his thoughts. He finally stopped and turned to Sherlock just as Sherlock's cell phone let off a text alert, which went ignored.

"So, who d'you suppose it was?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock didn't even look up.

"The woman on the phone, the crying woman." John elaborated, voice tense.

L sighed to himself. He understood what John was doing but those sorts of things just didn't really matter to Sherlock often. It wasn't that he didn't care as L found out; it just usually wasn't his first priority. He really thought John would have realized that by now. L sagged in his crouch on his seat, preparing himself for an upcoming argument.

"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there." L winced at Sherlock's tone, which was clipped and emotionless; he knew that would set John off.

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads." John's exasperated tone at least let Sherlock know what John really meant.

"You're not going to be much use to her." Sherlock said, unknowingly cutting deep.

John flinched, fists clenching unconsciously. John bit his lip and silently turned away. The fact he didn't immediately snap at Sherlock showed that John knew the man meant nothing by his words but that didn't make them any less painful. Sherlock was too busy to notice John's reaction. L wanted to say something but really didn't know what. Sherlock's phone going off again derailed the whole thing.

"Pass me my phone." Sherlock said to neither of them in particular.

L saw the way John was still a bit off so he hopped up and went to fulfill Sherlock's request. He remembered the man had left his phone in his jacket earlier. He rolled his eyes when he saw that the man was wearing said jacket still and was fully capable of retrieving the phone himself. L said nothing though as he opened Sherlock's jacket enough for him to slip a hand inside the inner pocket. He pulled the phone out. He glanced at it and saw eight messages from Mycroft. The man really wanted Sherlock to find those missile plans. He handed the phone to Sherlock who took it without a word. Honestly, L felt as if he didn't exist with the way Sherlock barely acknowledged him but that wasn't really something new for Sherlock. L had seen him do that to John numerous times. L stood there and watched Sherlock delete the messages from his brother before placing the phone down on the counter.

"Maybe you should-" L started to suggest but Sherlock cut him off.

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

"Your brother seems to think differently." John said as he walked up behind L to join in. Sherlock finally lifted his head with a groan.

"Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?" His focus was once more on the microscope, clearly deeming the conversation over.

"Try and remember there's a woman here who might die."

There went John stirring it all up again. L couldn't really blame him. Sherlock's seemingly complete disregard for the woman was a concern. However, L was more worried about his interest in the bomber, especially since the bomber seemed to have an interest in Sherlock as well. He had the feeling it wouldn't end well. Sherlock looked back up at John.

"What for? This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor." L winced at the cold disdain in his voice as he emphasized John's title.

"Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?"

John just stared at him in complete disbelief. L caught the hurt in his eyes before the doctor turned away and no doubt Sherlock caught it too. There was a flash of regret on the man's face but the beeping of the computer distracted him. Sherlock gave a delighted cry as he turned to the computer. It was then that a woman came into the lab.

"Any luck?" She asked. The familiarity she spoke towards Sherlock and the lab coat she wore told L she was Molly Hooper, who Sherlock had mentioned once in passing.

"Oh, yes!" Sherlock glowed with triumph. Molly came over to look at the screen. However, they were all distracted as a man entered the room behind her. The thirty something year old wore slacks and a t-shirt and had an overall unassuming look. He stopped when he spotted them.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't..." He trailed off, smiling apologetically.

"Jim! Hi!" Molly exclaimed, surprised even though the man had clearly been right behind her. She stopped him when he tried to leave.

"Come in! Come in!" She seemed much too eager in L's opinion. Sherlock gave her and the man a brief look over but didn't really acknowledge them any further. Apparently unaware of Sherlock's, in L's mind, obvious lack of interest, Molly introduced the man.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes." The way she said Sherlock's name with such obvious pride despite having no real relation to him that L could see spoke of her affections for him. L immediately felt sorry for her.

"Ah!" Jim let out a delighted gasp and moved closer. John, looking much better now that there was something to distract him from the upset earlier, caught Molly's attention. She stared at him blankly for a minute, clearly failing to remember his name and embarrassed by the fact.

"John Watson. Hi." John introduced himself, trying to save her from the embarrassment though L was sure the man Jim already noticed. He kept smiling though.

"Hi."

John was quickly forgotten as Jim turned his eyes on Sherlock, who was actively trying to ignore them all by staring into the microscope again. There was a gleam in Jim's eyes that unnerved L. Jim moved closer to Sherlock and it was then that he noticed L, who had been mostly hidden from sight by Sherlock as he was still standing right next to him. The man's smile grew as he leaned over L's way.

"Hello and who might you be?"

The man's tone was friendly and pleasant and yet L found himself stepping away. L forgot that John was right behind him so he ended up bumping into the doctor as he took a couple steps back. John instinctively reached out to keep him from falling over. Having the doctor's hand on his shoulder was comforting; it made L feel safe. The reason why he needed the doctor to feel safe in that exact moment escaped him though. Something just didn't feel right about the man still leaning forward into his space but L couldn't figure out why.

Jim frowned a second at L's response but then grinned with that same gleam from earlier in his eyes. L wanted to hide behind John then but he stood his ground as Jim reached forward and ruffled his hair.

"How cute." He said. He stepped back then and turned back to Sherlock. L let out a faint sigh of relief, as the weight of the man's gaze was no longer on him.

"So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" Jim was a bit too interested in L's opinion.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance." Molly butted in, finally getting over the shock of seeing a child with Sherlock and the possible implications of it.

The real reason she wanted to introduce was so clear that L was sure even John realized it. Attempting to make Sherlock jealous was doomed for failure though; Molly clearly didn't know Sherlock well at all. Sherlock looked Jim over again.

"Gay." Molly's expectant smile faded.

"Sorry, what?"

Sherlock actually lifted his head at her sudden change in tone and tried to rectify the situation, which was rather startling. Perhaps he cared more for Molly than L first suspected.

"Um, hey." Sherlock said to Jim with an attempted smile.

"Hey." Jim replied with that same admiring smile. He lowered his hand and ended up knocking over a metal dish. He scrambled to pick it up, apologizing all the while. Sherlock was clearly irritated now but didn't say anything. Jim put the dish back on the table and wandered back to Molly.

"Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?"

"Yeah!" Molly enthusiasm was much too exaggerated to be natural, further proving that she was just trying to make Sherlock jealous.

"It was nice to meet you." Jim called out to Sherlock but he didn't spare him another look. Jim's eyes fell on L as he turned to leave. They didn't linger though thankfully. Molly waited till the door closed behind Jim before facing Sherlock.

"What d'you mean, gay? We're together." She said emphasized with a forced smile. She clearly wasn't going to let her attempt go just yet.

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you." Even L knew not to mention a woman's weight but either Sherlock didn't know or simply didn't care.

"Sherlock…" John chided gently, barely heard as Molly immediately protested angrily.

"He's not gay. Why d'you have to spoil…? He's not."

Sherlock went on to give reasons only he would have noticed as to how Jim was gay. Molly and John clearly weren't accepting them though. So he went for the final, least dismissible reason. He reached for the metal dish that Jim knocked over and picked up the small card underneath it.

"Plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here. I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain." Molly stared at him then ran from the room. Sherlock stared after her, notably startled.

"Charming. Well done." John praised him sarcastically.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?" Sherlock asked, looking lost. He honestly believed that he was doing something kind for Molly.

"Kinder? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn't kind." John was obviously still upset about earlier as well as what just happened with Molly. Sherlock dropped it and looked down at the trainers. He glanced at L then at John. He hesitated then moved one of the trainers closer to John.

"Go on, then." He elaborated at John's confused look. "You know what I do." He sat back and folded his arms expectantly. John simply stared at him a second, still piecing it together. He glared once he did.

"No" He snapped, agitated. "I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate-"

"An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me." Sherlock gently interrupted.

L smiled. He knew what Sherlock was doing. Sherlock saw that John hated being useless and was trying to provide him with a chance to be of use. It was also a way for him to apologize for earlier. It was rather touching to be honest. John doubted Sherlock at first but must have figured it out as well, as he stepped forward with a grateful but still uncertain smile. He slowly looked the trainer over, not sure what to really look for. L walked away and took a seat as John started sharing his observations. They were rather impressive but L always knew that John wasn't an idiot and Sherlock knew it too though John still surprised him at times. The man stared at John with a proud smile that John didn't see as he was focused solely on the trainer in his hand.

"How did I do?" John asked, looking a bit sheepish but hoping for approval and praise.

"Well, John, really well." Sherlock replied honestly.

"I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know..." Sherlock was being sarcastic but it seemed to go right over John's head. He shook his head and shoved the trainer into Sherlock's hand. Sherlock went into deduction mode.

"The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discolored. Changed the laces three...no, four times." Sherlock either ignored or didn't notice John put his hands on the table and lower his head in obvious despair at having missed that.

"Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old."

"Twenty years?" John asked, straightening up.

"They're not retro, they're original."

"But there's still mud on them. They look new." John pointed out.

"Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind."

"So what happened to him?" John asked.

"Something bad." Sherlock said with a thoughtful frown. "He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them and go unless he had to. So a child with big feet gets..." He suddenly trailed off, staring into space.

"Oh." He let out a soft breath. L perked up, knowing Sherlock had figured it out.

"What?" L asked.

"Carl Powers." Sherlock's tone remained soft.

"Sorry, who?" John asked, looking mildly concerned by Sherlock's strange reaction.

"Carl Powers, John." Sherlock repeated.

"It's where I began."