Sherlock's POV:

Okay okay. Don't panic. Call Lestrade. He'll fix this. I dug my phone out of my pocket and quickly typed in the number, waiting anxiously as it rang.

"Hello?" came the familiar voice on the other end.

"Lestrade, it's me. We have a big problem. John just got arrested for murder."

"What?!" Lestrade cried. "What happened?!"

I flagged down a cab. "We were having lunch when two sargents came and arrested him for murder before hauling him off to Scotland Yard. They said they have fingerprint and DNA evidence."

There was a groan on the other end of the line. "This is bad. I'll see what I can do. Where are you?"

I told the cabdriver the address. "In a cab heading there now. I should be there in five minutes."

"Alright. Don't worry, Sherlock. We'll get this straightened out."

"See you in a few minutes."

"Bye."

John's POV:

I sat in the interrogation room anxiously looking around. Finally the door opened and the same two men from before stepped in.

"I want my lawyer," I told them.

They got me a phone and I called Mycroft.

"Hello?"

"Mycroft! Listen I-"

He interrupted me. "I already know, John. My sources told me what happened."

"Is Sherlock able to be my lawyer or can you get me one?"

"Sherlock is more than qualified and I believe that he would be the best person to defend you."

"Great. Please get your people working on clearing my name."

"Way ahead of you."

I sighed in relief. "Thank you, Mycroft. I owe you."

"You can repay me by not going to jail. You have been a great influence on my brother and would hate to see him go back to the way he was before without you around. London would probably fall."

That got a laugh out of me. "Thanks again."

"Good luck my friend."

*Ten minutes later*

"We know it was you, John," Sargent Jacobs said, walking behind him while Sargent Adams leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"We know you killed Benjamin Richardson." Jacobs slapped down some crime scene photos of the man laying dead on his kitchen floor with a gun shot wound to the head.

I looked up in shock. "Ben's dead?"

"You should know. You killed him!"

I pushed the photos away. "No. No I didn't. That wasn't me."

"We found your blood at the scene."

"I was over at his flat yesterday and ran into a wall, giving myself a bloody nose. The blood probably got there from when I ran in there to get a towel to stop the bleeding."

"Do you own a British army browning L9A1?"

"Yes."

"That is the exact model that shot Mr. Richardson."

"I can't be the only one in London that has that gun."

"What about your fingerprints all over the victims apartment?"

"I told you that we hung out at his flat yesterday. Of course my fingerprints are all over there!"

Adams chuckled. "You just have an answer for everything, don't you?"

Jacobs nodded in agreement. "He must've thought about this a long time to try and get his story straight."

I smacked my hand down on the table in frustration. "This is preposterous! It wasn't me! Why on Earth would I kill my friend?!"

"The neighbors heard you arguing the night he died," Adams pointed out.

"Yeah he got mad at me for getting the blood on his carpet. I told him how ridiculous he was being since it was an accident, and we started yelling at each other. I didn't kill him over it! I walked out of the flat and I'm sure the neighbors heard the door slam behind me."

"They did but you easily could have came back later and shot him."

"But I didn't!" An idea popped into my mind. "Oh! The sandwich shop across the street from his flat has cameras! I saw them one day after we hung out. You can check those and I will prove I never came back to his flat after I left."

"We already checked with the store owner. He says the cameras are just for show. They don't actually work."

I put my elbow on the table and dropped my head in my hand, feeling helpless. Where is Sherlock?!

As if on cue Sherlock strolled into the room. "I hope you aren't interrogating my client after he already asked for a lawyer."

"No," Adams lied. "We were just interviewing him."

"No you weren't now leave me to talk with my client alone before I call your boss," Sherlock ordered and they obediently left the room. (A/N: I don't know what the laws are in London for interrogating a suspect. I only know the laws in America so if I get it wrong I apologize.)

"Sherlock, they think I killed Ben!" I told him. "Someone is setting me up! And they even used the same model gun that I have to kill him with."

"Someone definitely did their research," the detective mused. "But don't worry, I will figure out who is really behind this. Lestrade is outside right now trying to pull any strings he can."

"He better do something quick. This is not looking good, Sherlock. They have me up against the wall pretty good. You, Lestrade, and Mycroft are the difference between me getting married and having kids or me spending the rest of my life in a jail cell."