I was suffering writers block I'm afraid and I kind of forced myself into writing this one so it's short and probably not that good. Just see how it goes. Normal service should soon be resolved very soon.

This isn't how things are supposed to be

The plan worked to an extent but it wasn't as good as John had hoped it to be. There was interest at first, for the first time in too long (as far as the detective was concerned) he got to solve a mystery. And solve mysteries he did, he got through about fifty, not all at once since he got exhausted still, before the distraction wasn't enough. There wasn't enough stimulation there, he couldn't parade his brilliance in front of fifteen odd ignorant police officers, he couldn't go and look at the position of a corpse in relation to the window as all he had were photographs, he couldn't use his senses to help him and that was what he truly enjoyed doing.

"What idiot thought that these pictures would be of any use to anyone in the future?" Sherlock shouted in frustration caused John to jump and throwing tea all over the front of his woolly jumper. Next there was a file of papers hurtling through the air, flying open and scattering sheets of paper all over the room on impact, Sighing John calmly set his cup of tea down on the table and set to work scrutinizing Sherlock under his doctor's gaze.

The man was lying on his back on the settee, clawing desperately at his arm, brow furrowed in frustration. The skin on his previously healing skin was marred with red-raw nail marks, in some places drawing blood. Quietly he stood up and hurried into the bathroom where he grabbed some cotton wool and a bottle of antiseptic. Upon his return he called Sherlock's name but if the detective heard he hid it very well. Carefully, almost reverently, the doctor placed a hand on the hand that was attacking Sherlock's arm and the man looked up, startled by the gentle physical contact. Hand stopped, suspended in mid-air. "What do you want John?" he growled.

"Let me get a look at your arm first ok, then we'll talk about what happens next."

"I don't want to talk."

"Well give me your arm now and when we're talking you're just going to have to get over it, get what I'm saying?"