A/N: Hey guys! So, this will basically just be a collection of short drabbles, mostly focused around John, cause he's like the most amazing character ever. Also, if any of you have something you want to see written up, you can tell me and I'll see if I'm inspired. And I don't do slash stories. Of course, nothing of Sherlock is mine. I hope you all enjoy!

John Watson should probably have been concerned when the man with whom he was considering sharing a flat - a man he had only met for all of two minutes the day previous, a man who kept a skull on the mantelpiece, a man who could read a person's every thought and secret simply by looking – compared five serial suicides to Christmas. He should probably have been concerned when Sherlock Holmes, who seemed to know the entire force of Scotland Yard by name, proclaimed that being socially decent did not matter when "the game" of chasing a serial killer had begun.

The army doctor should have been frightened by the excited gleam in the "world's only consulting detectives" eye when he saw a woman lying dead on the floor and then proceed to tell the Detective Inspector everything from her home town to the state of her marriage. He most likely should have been frightened when that same man was in possession of the very item that he himself had said the murderer would be in possession of. And he should have been terrified as he ran, psychosomatic limp forgotten, along with Sherlock, after someone they both knew to be a serial killer.

But, as irrational and inexplicable it was, John Watson only felt scared as he watched the "sociopathic" young man raise a pill that could very easily be poison to his lips. And he only stopped feeling scared after he had put a bullet through the deranged cabbies heart and Sherlock had dropped the toxic medication.