Frightening New Revelations

"John."

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"You're good at haircuts, yes?"

"I suppose. I cut my own hair."

Sherlock eyed John's head with a strange look. John rolled his eyes.

"Well, obviously I wouldn't cut yours like mine, would I?"

"Thankfully, no." Sherlock's attention rolled back to his newspaper.

"So what do you want me to do for you?"

"Just a trim."

John nodded. "Alright. Let's do it then."

Sherlock's eyes snapped up to him, alarmed. "Now?"

"Yes, now. Why not now? Come on, grab a chair and bring it to the loo."

Sherlock looked almost disdainful as he did what John asked. Things had been odd between the two of them for a while, but it had gotten worse with Sherlock's outburst from the previous week, and John's subsequent denial of Sherlock's apology. Things were quiet most of the time for the two, and their restlessness over the new case didn't make the uncomfortable air any lighter. They were no closer to finding their assassin, because there had been no more victims, and Ms. Stewart's autopsy brought nothing helpful. Whoever they were dealing with, he was good at his job.

John snipped away at Sherlock's curls, trying to hide how sad he was to see them go. Ironic how he'd been so distressed at how Sherlock would be wanting to cut the unruly locks, and now he was the one cutting them. John's frown must have been evident, because when he looked up, Sherlock was eyeing him in the mirror. John gave him a tight smile, but Sherlock's face remained like a mask. John went back to snipping.

Sherlock's phone buzzed on the counter. Sherlock swiped it up, held it out of John's view and checked the message. John rolled his eyes. As if he would read Sherlock's messages. Sherlock turned his phone back off and placed it back on the counter without replying.

"Lestrade?" John asked.

"No."

"Oh. Who was it?"

"Wrong number."

"Right…" John's snipping slowed to a stop. "Finished. You like it?"

"It'll do." Sherlock jumped up, swiped his phone, and strolled out of the room, leaving John to clean up his hair. John just sighed and went to get the broom.

Later, in the afternoon, Sherlock came running in.

"We have to go. Now!"

John jumped up and chased Sherlock down to the cab that Sherlock had already hailed. They clambered into the back.

"What is it? What's happened?" John demanded.

"Congressman Stewart." Sherlock said, and there was no further explanation.

They reached the Congressman's office within 10 seconds of arriving at the building, a secretary chasing them, shrieking about appointments. But Sherlock was unstoppable, and he burst into the office. John stopped when he almost ran into his flat mate, who'd halted suddenly. The congressman's chair was turned back to them, and they saw a phone rest lazily in his right hand. John tried to glance at Sherlock, but the taller man was ignoring everything else aside from the congressman, including the secretary still screeching at him.

Sherlock crept toward the chair, rounding the desk and stopping next to Mr. Stewart, face blank.

"Sherlock?" John whispered.

Sherlock cast him a look which John read as disappointment. Then, he reached out, gripped the chair, and turned it so that Mr. Stewart faced the door.

The secretary screamed and ran, calling for security. John just stared at the congressman, then back at Sherlock. Sherlock was watching John closely, as if waiting for John to flip.

Mr. Stewart sat there, with a bullet right in between his eyes.

Sherlock's attention traveled to a paper sitting in the man's left hand, crumpled up. Sherlock reached over and snatched it, opening it up. He read the words over and over, his face a frown. John was still in shock over the corpse.

"John." Sherlock drawled, calling his attention without looking up from the paper, which he now knew was a napkin.

John hurried over to his friend, stopping at his side. His gaze followed Sherlock's and rested on the napkin, or rather, what was written on it.

Moriarty sends his regards.

"The note wasn't meant for us." Sherlock was telling a distressed Greg Lestrade while John sat off to the side sulking.

Lestrade's eye brows sky rocketed unbelievably higher in exasperation. "How could you be sure?"

"The assassin would have had to get into the office after shooting Stewart. Impossible. Too much security, no one was seen, the window untouched- save for when Stewart himself opened it- and the killer was in the building across from the window, an abandoned parking structure. They must have someone inside the building who brought the napkin with his coffee. Question every one."

"But how do you know the message wasn't to you at all?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Did you see the look on that corpses face? He was terrified. The horrific realization that hit him indicates that he knew more about the circumstances of his wife's death than we originally thought, if the name Moriarty could strike fear into his heart." Sherlock's last words sounded like a growl, and he huffed in frustration, looking up at the near black skies.

Greg shook his head. "Wouldn't this man, if he was really "James Moriarty Sr.", be after you? I mean, you were involved with the death of his son, after all."

"No. He's not like his boy, not one to play games. He would have sent the killer after me and John by now. We'd be dead. He isn't interested. He's ignoring us because we aren't a threat to him. We aren't worth his time; he's got more important things to do…" Sherlock trailed off, and Greg thought it was because of his cell buzzing in his coat pocket. Sherlock paid it no mind though, just shook his head. "This man is more dangerous than anything we've endured so far. Much more."

After hours of extensive investigation, tiring questions being asked over and over, much eye rolling from Sherlock and much silence and depression from John, they finally got to get a cab home. They rode in silence, each looking out their respective passenger windows. Sherlock saw the reflection of John's trembling hand resting on the seat in between them. Sherlock longed to reach over and grasp it, if it would comfort his friend.

Were they still friends? No, they were much more than that. But he knew John would never make a move. And Sherlock knew relationships weren't really his area…

But seeing John this way made him want to hold him. He wanted to hold John tight and never let go, do anything to comfort and protect him. Seeing as how Sherlock had never even wanted to talk to another human being previously, this was a frightening revelation.

He knew he would do anything for John.

It was two in the morning when they got back to the flat, and John was ready to collapse on the sofa. He barely noticed how Sherlock had uncharacteristically stayed behind to pay the cabby, and was now kind of trailing behind John, closing and locking doors. He was being unceremoniously quiet, and kept ignoring his buzzing phone.

John could care less, he just wanted to sleep.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to spend a day off. I'm off to-"

John literally felt his brain shut down as Sherlock's lips suddenly crushed his. The kiss was so forceful and passionate that John thought for a second that it wasn't Sherlock, but it definitely was, and that was why he found himself unable to move. The moment ended quickly, as Sherlock pulled back, his hands resting on John's shoulders.

John realized how much Sherlock had had to bend down to reach him, and almost laughed. He must have looked particularly silly, because Sherlock smiled unashamedly. The gleam in his eye looked the same as whenever his hypothesis had proved right in an experiment, or when he'd solved a particularly nasty case. Sherlock stepped back and strolled over to his bed room door, leaning on the door frame.

"I think you'll find it best to stay in my room tonight so I can make up for your wasted day." Sherlock smirked.

John didn't hesitate.

When Sherlock calls, you follow.

END.

AUTHOR'S NOTE - DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T CARE!

So this was fun. Guess it's time to move on to bigger and better things…

I'm kidding.

This story's becoming a trilogy! ^.^

Yay! A Project! I never get to have projects!

Any way, thank you so much to every one who followed and favorited me and my story. It's the first thing I've actually written in a very long time, (No, I don't count my Tron parody, especially since it's not the original copy and therefore not as funny.), so I'm very glad it was so well-received. J And I'm grateful to all of you who put up with it!

The next one's gonna have some ideas from the second Sherlock Holmes movie, (Game of Shadows, with the beautiful Robert Downey, Jr.). It won't be a cross-over exactly, but it'll share some of the elements of Game of Shadows and hopefully prove to be very interesting, if not just amusing. I hope you guys will like it, and I hope you're as excited as I am! :D

Again, much thanks, and go ahead and follow me if you're interested at all in the sequals! Sorry for the cliffhanger!

NO SPOILERS!