Warning: scenes of violence

It was just a normal day, life in 221B Baker Street was continuing as it normally did; John playing the part of the domestic goddess when Mrs Hudson wasn't there and Sherlock playing the part of the moody detective who hasn't got a case and is overly bored. Mrs Hudson was downstairs in the restaurant and it was John's day off, so it was up to him to try and tackle cleaning the sink.

"John!" Sherlock called from the sitting room.

"Yes?" John replied, not moving from his spot in the kitchen, dutifully scrubbing.

"I'm bored." Sherlock moaning, clapping his hands over his face.

"Well there's a surprise." John muttered to the sink. "Any cases?" this was directed at the arachnid figure lounging on the sofa.

"They're all tediously easy and boring." Sherlock replied "Anyone with half a brain could sort them out, mind you Lestrade seems to be the only one there with half a brain. I can't say as much for Anderson and Donovan." John chuckled to the sink and Sherlock peeked his face over the top of the sofa, at first he looked suspicious but then his face warmed into a mirroring smile and he relaxed back onto the couch.

"Well, Sherlock I'm just about done here." John said, discarding his marigolds onto the countertop with a satisfying smack. "Unless I could clean your experiments up…"
Sherlock whirled off the sofa, fixing John with a glare. He pointed towards the kitchen table.

"Don't touch my experiments, that stuff is delicate." John inched towards the test tubes his hands outstretched pretending he was going to touch them. Just to wind Sherlock up. Sherlock shifted, looking angry, he didn't know whether John would dare or not. John laughed, and Sherlock pulled one of his common confused faces.

"Well, I have to do the shopping."

"Shopping?"

"Yes. Shopping. So that we can you know, eat. Well not 'we' more 'me' seeing as you live off black coffee and oxygen." John trailed off seeing the extremely dangerous happy look spreading across Sherlock's face. "What? What? Why are you smiling like that? Sherlock, that's kind of-"

"Brilliant!" Sherlock smiled

"What? What's brilliant?"

"Shopping! I'll come shopping with you." A mix of horror and trepidation spread across John Watson's face.

"Great. Just great."

After a brief tube journey in which Sherlock pointed out who on the tube was having an affair, who would probably die alone and who were hiding secrets, (causing John to nearly get slapped several times by women whose infidelity had been pointed out in front of their partners and several men to shout "Your boyfriend is telling lies about my Mrs!" at him) Sherlock and John arrived at the supermarket. John was already feeling tired but Sherlock seemed to be overly happy for some reason John was unable to identify.

"Shopping John! Shopping!" He squealed.

"Yes Sherlock, shopping, the very thing you have refused to do every time I have asked you to help."

"Ah, but today is different. Today is a new day!"

"Yes, but could you calm down, people are staring at your dancing."

Sherlock couldn't tell why he had wanted to come shopping. He hated the supermarket, and he didn't even eat often so didn't enjoy picking out culinary delights. He didn't like the sticky floors, the piped music, the garish displays, so, he mused, why was he so interested in coming today. He gazed down at his companion out of the corner of his eyes. John was…nice. He…liked John. The words took a while to form together in his head due to under use. He didn't think he'd had a friend like John ever. He'd wanted to be friends with Mycroft when he was little, but he rejected him maybe because of the age gap but also maybe because they were so different. Even then. Sherlock would've never had imagined that he would've made a friend in John, no, when he met John he was just a means to afford a nicer flat in London. He even expected that John would move out after the shots at the wall, violin playing and mysterious chemicals and body parts in the microwave. But John had stayed, and Sherlock realised that he liked it like that. John was obviously the reason this excursion seemed be bearable, no, not bearable…fun. Now there was a word that Sherlock hadn't used in a while. Fun. Sherlock had fun with John.

"What's wrong Sherlock?" John asked, seeing that Sherlock was staring down on him with a look of determination and concentration.

"Absolutely nothing." Sherlock's face split into a smile. He was taken aback by how often he had been smiling today. He was so overcome with happiness. Was this what being a normal person was like? Sherlock discovered that he didn't really mind it that

much. And he would continue not-minding until it dimmed his mental abilities.

John and Sherlock walked over to the trolley bay. John picked the trolley closest to him and was in the process of taking it into the supermarket when Sherlock halted him.

"Not that one."

"Why not?" John replied. He was confused, had Sherlock suddenly decided against this whole shopping shenanigan?

"The wheel John, it's completely faulty. Look at it." Sherlock bent down and twisted the wheel with his fingers, showing that it was badly stuck.

"Ok." John said. It seemed to him that Sherlock could be useful. Without him he would've spent twice as long in the supermarket trying to manipulate a wonky trolley. "What about this one?" He gestured to another close by one.

"If you don't mind the fact that the last user sneezed on the handle, and as you are a doctor you're probably aware that this is flu season."

"Sherlock."

"This one, however…" Sherlock inspected the trolley, looking at the wheels, handle and hook for hanging the bags off. "This one will suffice." John wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. He was so amused by Sherlock trying to make John happy by picking the best trolley, but also he could sense that this would be a very very long shopping trip.

Sherlock and John filed into the large supermarket entrance the hot conditioned air warming the back of John's neck. An experience he always enjoyed.

He was confused, mostly over why Sherlock had decided that today was the day he wanted to behave like a normal person and buy food but also over his mood. He'd caught him looking at him quizzically throughout the day and wanted to know why. Of course, asking Sherlock outright would never give him the information he wished to know, but he could always attempt it slyly throughout the day.

Sherlock decides he wants to take control of the trolley and whizzes away before John can catch him. John finds him racing up and down the isle, gaining momentum trying to see how fast he can get the trolley to go.

"Sherlock. SHERLOCK!" Sherlock had attracted the attention of an employee. Who marched towards John angrily. Sherlock looked bewildered, John sighed, he probably didn't even think he was doing anything wrong.

"Excuse me, but just what do you think you're up to?" The large employee demanded of Sherlock.

"I know that you're distressed about your young son being too feminine for your liking-"

"Sherlock." John hissed. The man had no idea how much trouble his deductions landed them in.

"But, good sir, don't take it out on my experiment."

"Experiment?" The employee swelled up "And what's this about my son are you some kind of-"

"Excuse my friend." John stepped in "He's a little different if you know what I mean." John whispered to the employee. "He's well… how would you put it Sherlock?"

"A high-functioning sociopath."

"Yes, that's it, I'm sorry he doesn't understand how he's been rude to you." The employee looked cheered by the explanation and decided to leave it at that.

"Well, thank you for the apology."

"No, no, it's ok. He comes with a guidebook." John chuckled. The employee huffed his way back to his station. John turned back on Sherlock, glaring.

"What?" Sherlock said, innocently. He really doesn't get it, John thought. Even though that meant it wasn't Sherlock's fault and John couldn't be blame him for annoying people, didn't mean John wasn't still angry.

"You can't just tell people their insecurities, especially if it's about their children."

"Why not?"

"Because!"

"Because…?" Sherlock asked, he was genuinely interested. He didn't see telling people their faults and weaknesses as a faux pas.

"Because it makes you look like a stalker. And image which isn't helped by the…" John gestured to Sherlock "The pale and interesting, cheekbones and black coat look."

Sherlock turned up the collar of his coat, looking slightly miffed at John. "How did you figure it out anyway?" John asked, puzzled.

"Figure what out?"

"The whole, feminine son thing."

"Did you not get that immediately?" At first John is angry because he thinks Sherlock is making fun of him. Then he really assesses his face and realises he's being sincere. Wow, John thinks, he really doesn't get what it's like to be normal and not, well, super intelligent.

"No." John sighs "I didn't Sherlock." Sherlock pauses before telling him. He wonders what it must be like for them. The "normal" people. A stray phrase floats through his brain: "Ignorance is bliss". It must be nice, he muses, not to know a person's life history before they've even said hello.

"He had a smidgen of pink nail polish on his finger, but he was wearing a badge for a rock band and had a very masculine haircut. That paired with the fact we obviously know he doesn't have a daughter."

"Obviously?" John echoed.

"Yes," Sherlock looked at John. "No? Really?" John rolled his eyes. "Ok, ok, well we know he doesn't have a daughter because he looked agitated which means he's worried about one of his kids. We also know because he had a receipt in his hand for an action man…a boy's toy. If he had a daughter he would've bought something for her as well. Not fair to buy a present for only one child."

John was amazed, not only by Sherlock's detective skills but how he was amazed at them every time. He was amazed at his own amazement. Sherlock's deductions never grew boring, or predictable, it was impossible to try and replica or copy his methods.

Whilst John was standing there in amazement, Sherlock was also standing in amazement. Most people grew bored of Sherlock all too quickly. Finding him annoying and repetitive. The general message Sherlock got was, yes, well you can tell people's life history but just keep it to yourself, it's getting annoying now. John never seems to find life with Sherlock boring, Sherlock decides. Sherlock also decides he likes the idea of this and hopes John and his friendship continues for as long as possible.

John commands the trolley from now own so that Sherlock doesn't continue his "experiments". They wheel is around for a while, John buying bread, milk, eggs, jam, chicken, salad, cheese and assorted vegetables and fruit whilst Sherlock mutters to all of them, picking them up and deducing which ones are best quality and which ones are past their best. John enjoys this, he finds Sherlock's attempts at normal human activities endearing and the fact that Sherlock is trying to help John with the domesticities. The wheels squeak along the sticky floor, announcements are called out on the intercom: "Did you know, today you can get three packets of biscuits for the price of one? Three packets! That's a whopping saving of £4:50…" This is all too normal for Sherlock the stalker of back alleys and investigators of the darkest parts of London but he finds it increasingly interesting to see how the normal people live. He ponders this as he examines which tomatoes John should buy when there is a loud crashing noise. John jumps then laughs.

"Someone must have knocked a display over, eh Sherlock?"

"No." Sherlock says, "That noise was not a display being knocked over. It was-"

Gunshot echoes throughout the supermarket. So do the screams of the terrified shoppers on hearing the murderous noise. But Sherlock doesn't care about them. "John, someone's taken over the intercom."

John looks at Sherlock with wide eyes. "You mean-"

"Yes." Sherlock nods "Someone is trying to take over the supermarket."

More gunshot echoes throughout the shop and instinctively John flattens himself to the floor, even though the noise is just coming through the intercom.

"John John! Are you alright?" Sherlock cries, bending down over John, because he can tell he's not. He can tell that images of Afghanistan are whizzing through John's brain too fast for him to keep up.

John straightens up just as the first message from the attackers comes floating across the aisles.

"Hellooooooooo, everybody! Having a nice shop are we? Aww, that's nice, do love a little morning shop, buying all the shopping for the week. Well I'm awfully sorry to say that you're not gonna finish you're shopping time soon. Aww I know, I know, major inconvenience. Sorry! But you guys are all hostages now. Please all line up along the vegetable aisle. And please know, we have cameras and can see if you try to run or hide. My lovely men will come to escort and count you at the vegetable aisle. Thank you for listening. Byyyyye!" The intercom turned off with a cheery noise.

"Sherlock. Sherlock." John panted "What do we do?"

"Follow their instructions John. He doesn't seem to be lying. I think right now we should just do as they say until we can find an opportunity." Sherlock turned around and saw that John was shaking ever so slightly. Sherlock smiled at him, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry John. I won't let you get hurt. Not today at least." John smiled back. They walked over to the vegetable aisle they weren't too far away from it anyway. They joined the group of hustled figures cowering on the floor.

They were sitting in a line, their backs pressed into the display of vegetables, their knees under their chins. Most were crying, some looked defensive. There was eight of them. Obviously shopping early on a Sunday morning was rare. Sherlock took his turn looking at each of them as he sat next to John. He started on the far left, there was a set of twins, around sixteen with dark hair, they were clasping hands, but not looking at each other. Along from them was a young woman with a short spiky black hair and a neck scarf. She looked as if she was trying to act bored but her fear was obviously showing through. Next to her was a defensive looking man with green eyes and brown hair who was next to a blonde woman and her equally blonde boyfriend. Her boyfriend was sitting next to a frail old woman wearing a pink cardigan and sensible shoes.

"So what have we got hear Sherlock?" John whispered.

"A set of identical twins, a serial adulteress and hairdresser, a banker, a couple on the verge of splitting up because she cheated on him, she's unemployed and he's a lawyer, and a retired primary school teacher." Sherlock whispered back. As he finished his reasoning a tall man dressed all in black wearing a black mask came up along the hostages.

He had a black mask on and was immensely muscled.

"Right." He said, pointing to all the hostages with his gun. He had a voice distortion on. "Stay here, and don't move. I'll be right here." He gestured to a spot nearby.

One of the twins whimpered and buried her head into the other one's neck.

"Stop that." The man in black said. Gesturing at her with his gun. That made her whimper more. "I said STOP IT!" He shouted at her.

"Do you have a soul? She's terrified!" The non-whimpering twin shouted back at him.

"Excuse me?" replied the man in black "I don't like your tone."

"Yeah? Well I don't give a damn. Just leave her," she gestured to her shuddering twin, "Alone."

The man in black mused this over for a moment. "Ok." he said "I will." he then turned and shot the protesting twin. She died before anyone could react. Then the whimpering twin started to scream.

"JENNIFER! JENNIFER!" she tried to shake her sister. "JENNIFER!"

"Please." John said to the man in black. His hands held in a surrendering pose. "I'm a doctor, please let me look after the other sister."

The man in black nodded, then picked up the win and shoved her into John. John put her in front of him and started soothing her by asking her questions like her name and where she was from.

"Why?" Sherlock asked all of a sudden. "Why are you doing this?" He looked up at the man feeling no fear, fear was a feeling he seldom had, and never for himself. Only for other people that he actually cared about, like…John.

The tall man whipped around. If he wasn't wearing a mask Sherlock would've seen his eyes, but even with the mask on Sherlock could tell he was squinting at him trying to size him up.

"Why does anyone do anything?" The man asked Sherlock

"I wouldn't know. I'm not anyone." Sherlock looked away. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see John talking to the twin, Catriona. He had her wrapped in his arms and she was still shuddering for the shock, but John had taken his coat off to try and warm her up. Sherlock knew he could work this out and didn't care is he lost his own life. He was petrified of losing John's though. Losing John's wouldn't be acceptable.

"For the money. For the funzies."

"Funzies?"

"Yes, crime is fun. Is that hard to accept?"

"No." Sherlock says. "but the word 'funzies' is." Sherlock mutters. Luckily the man doesn't hear him, Sherlock guesses his isn't the type to enjoy having his vocabulary mocked.

Sherlock's phone hummed in his pocket. He answered it slyly without drawing attention to himself. He was alright though, the guard had turned his attention to the girl with spiky hair.

"Hello there pretty lady." He was cooing. Sherlock shuddered.

He looked at his inbox. It was from Mycroft.

I see you've got yourself into a spot of bother – MH

Sherlock quickly typed a reply.

Well observed. Get John out – SH

He sighed, leaning back against the crate of aubergines. Mycroft was taking his sweet time replying.

John? What about the rest of them? – MH

Sherlock was confused.

Rest of who? – SH

The hostages Sherlock. There's seven of them. The old lady? Spiky haired girl? Remaining twin? The couple and the sad looking man? How could you forget them?

MH

Sherlock didn't even dignify that text with an answer. Partly because he was aggravated by Mycroft's mocking tone but also because he himself didn't know why. When he was with John everything in the background blurred sometimes, until it seemed unimportant. John was his main focus at the moment. A steady beating of get John out was pulsing through his head.

I get it. You've gone sweet on him haven't you? – MH

Mycroft, this isn't the time to be making jokes about my…'feelings'. Can you help us or not? – SH

The reply came back a split-second later.

No – MH

Sherlock hurriedly began tapping out a reply

No? What do you mean

"What's this then?" The guard snapped, snatching Sherlock's phone away from him.

"Sherlock." John hissed under his breath, he knew that Sherlock had put the whole group at risk.

"Sorry." Sherlock smiled. "Just fancied a game of X's and O's."

The guard stared in amazement at Sherlock's phone, a game of noughts and crosses open on the screen. Child's play, Sherlock had installed fingerprint recognition on his phone that sensed that if he or John wasn't using it and immediately flared up a game of noughts and crosses.

The guard snarled and flung Sherlock's phone away in frustration.

Sherlock was still puzzled. Why was it that Mycroft wouldn't help him work out this situation. It was like something had popped in his head, a chemical reaction that allowed him to come to the solution. If Mycroft wouldn't help it had to be something to do with the British government.

Why would the British government be interested in some middle aged people, teenage twins and an old lady?

Then again, it seemed all too convenient. If this wasn't organised by parliament why were there no young children or babies? There's usually always a few of those kicking around in a supermarket no matter what time of day or day of the week.

He huffed in exasperation pressing his back into the crate behind him. It wasn't his favourite sofa but it would have to do at the moment. He fondly looked over at John. John. How had he and Sherlock carelessly managed to wander into the middle of a dangerous hostage situation?

Danger clung to Sherlock, followed him, constantly meandered down the streets he walked, nipping at his heels. He'd told John that when he met. He should've enforced it made sure that John didn't follow him. He mentally cursed himself. He'd gotten away with the concept of someone liking him, of having a friend. His mind usually rebelled against the word, not with John though. With John things were different.

Meanwhile, John is mentally panicking. Not about Sherlock or how to resolve the situation. He's panicking about Catriona. She's gone into shock after loosing her twin sister and her whole body is buzzing, unable to cope or rationalise the loss it has sustained. John hates this. It reminds him way too much of Afghanistan, holding someone else in his arms and being lost as to what to do to help save it. He looks away from the quivering girl and up at the man beside him.

Sherlock.

Sherlock is already looking at him. John can see a sad expression on his face but isn't sure what it is. Worry? No. Sadness? Anger? He realises. It's regret. Regret tinged with guilt. John doesn't understand why he feels like that. Does he blame himself for not saving the first twin?

John doesn't understand that Sherlock blames himself for landing John in this mess.

John reaches out his free hand towards Sherlock, closing the far too wide gap between them. He doesn't expect Sherlock's reaction. He never would have.

Sherlock grasps John's hand tight. Holding it like a eight-year-old who suddenly grips onto their mother when reaching a road crossing unashamedly. John thinks about making a joke about "people talking" but then realises it's the worse thing he could do. He doesn't want to let go of Sherlock's hand, the feeling of it against his own is nice.

One of the tomatoes falls out of it's crate behind Sherlock, giving them both a fright so they break the handholding. John marvels on how easy he finds it to get wrapped up in a Sherlock-John bubble no matter what situation they are in.

Sherlock's mind quickly returns to the puzzle. Why would the British government be interested in this seemingly random group of people?

Until the answer slaps him. Of course! How could he be so stupid.

Now that Sherlock has the answer, he intends to act and, he glances sideways at John who's refocused his attention on the hostage girl, before its too late.

So I will reveal the answer in chapter two! As always, thank you for reading.