A/N: This is something I've been having nag at my head for a while. So, I wrote it up! I also wanted to say something else… I want everyone to know that as a fanfiction author I am completely appalled by what happened at the Empty Hearse Q and A in London on December 15th. What Caitlin Moran did was absolutely wrong and disgusting. I don't write, nor do I read M rated fanfiction, however, I don't judge those who do. That author is completely embarrassed as I'm sure both Benedict and Martin are as well. I just hope beyond hope that our fandom can come together and show those two actors, along with everyone else, that fanfiction is for OUR enjoyment and that it isn't our intent for them to ever read it. Fanfiction needs to stay in the fan verse you guys… I'm just… I'm so mad and upset right now over this… but anyway please enjoy the first chapter of my newest two-shot…

-Pinktron

"Hey, Freak." Sally Donavan roughly shoved past Sherlock Holmes as she picked up her folder for the day. She really despised it when he was on a case with her. Why couldn't he just find his own assistant, then she and Anderson wouldn't have to work with the arrogant git.

"Hello, to you too Sally." Sherlock's voice came out as a snide whisper as he shot her a glare before disappearing into Lestrade's office.

"Glad to see you, Sherlock." Detective Inspector Lestrade didn't even look up as he grabbed his coat from the hook by the door. "I've got a case for you. You're gonna love it."

A small smile graced the tall man's lips as he walked down the halls of Scotland Yard with Greg Lestrade. The man had been his only ally at the Yard, and even though he wouldn't admit it; he was happy that he had an ally there. He needed the cases, but he also needed the friendship the alliance brought.

"He's 37 years old, named Tim Fanta, found dead by his girlfriend at approximately 6:35 this morning. He was lying face down on the bed, it was obvious that his throat was slashed. We moved the body for forensics. It looks a lot like cases 5 and 9 from last week… thinking serial killer… probably female."

The cogs in the consulting detectives head turned as he knotted his scarf before stepping out into the cool London breeze. "Tell me about the crime scene… since Anderson moved the body… idiot."

"Be nice, Sherlock." Lestrade gave the taller man a sharp glare. "Face down on the bed, blood gushing from his slit throat. He was completely naked except for his Rolex, his girlfriend said it was a gift from her. His wallet and keys were still on the bedside table along with two glasses of whiskey. There was some woman's underwear found in the bed too, just the bottoms. He had obvious abrasive marks on his back, along with marks on his wrists and neck."

"Definitely a crime of passion. No possessions stolen, something left. I think it might have been sexual, but I'd have to see the markings. I have a total of 7 ideas, the most possible of which is a prostitute that might have also been hired by the men in cases 5 and 9. I'll see what else I can do when we get there." Sherlock yawned. "You have to stop giving me such obvious cases, Lestrade. You're starting to bore me." The two walked in silence until Sherlock went for a cigarette. That's when it fell out of his pocket.

It was obviously a ring… a man's engagement ring on a chain. It was a small gold band with initials carved into it. The DI leaned down to pick it up with a questioning look in his eyes. He quickly gave it back to Sherlock who shoved it back into his pocket without another word or even a semblance of an explanation.

"What was that?"

"Nothing… just… sentiment." Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the word. He wasn't a sentimental man. He was considered a machine… someone who didn't feel. He liked it that way. They continued the rest of the way to the crime scene in silence. The sudden rough and slightly choked tone of the detective had scared Lestrade, and he knew better than to ask any other questions... at least right at that moment…

I need you to Skype me.

-SH

It's against the rules… so is the phone… but Mycroft managed that at least…

-JW

I need to talk to you… I need to see your face, John…

-SH

I'm on duty, Sherlock!

-JW

I don't want to beg…

-SH

I'll buzz Mycroft, hold on.

-JW

3 minutes pass… 7… 10 minutes… 20… Sherlock begins to feel impatient. Couldn't his brother do anything right?! He groaned, finger hovering over his phone's keyboard. John was right… the phone was already contraband. Mycroft surely didn't care that much… Suddenly.. *beep beep*

Get on your computer and log in… Mycroft is gonna tap you into the secure network.

-JW

Thank You

-SH

It was a matter of minutes before Sherlock was on his computer and the very grainy face of his fiancé popped up on the screen, the little Skype logo in the corner bouncing up and down. "Hi…"

"Hi…" John smiled. "You have a difficult case?"

"Yeah," Sherlock curled his knees up to his chest. "I just needed to see your face... hear your voice. I'm glad Mycroft could understand."

"He really does care a lot about you, Sherlock."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments. Talking had never been something needed in their relationship. They understood each other by one movement or a look in the eyes. Sometimes Sherlock just wanted to stare at John for hours and the Doctor was ok with it.

"Say it…" John's lips tightened just a tad. "I know you need to... just say it…"

"I… miss you…" Sherlock felt an unfamiliar burning sensation behind his eyes. Oh, how he hated emotions... feelings... caring... sentiment… but everything was worth it for John... his John. "Why did you have to go? If Mycroft could do this... surely he could say you didn't have to go."

"You know the answer, Sher. I couldn't live with that. He probably could have, but I made a commitment."

"You made one to ME too, John! You could DIE!" That's when Sherlock lost all control and tears streamed down his face. "I understand… logically I do. You need to finish one thing before you start another… but, John… I need you." His voice was so small now. He knew he was making John feel guilty, it was such a bad habit… and, he really didn't mean it.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm so, so sorry." John closed his eyes and reached his hand out to touch the screen that bore the image of his fiancé's face. "I would be there if I could." It was then that someone out of frame came into the room, it was then that Sherlock heard a rough voice call John's name. He knew it would be time to say goodbye soon.

"You have to go?"

John's eyes looked sad. "Yes…we're getting shot at… they need me. I'll be home in three weeks; you can make it until then… I promise…"

The taller man tried his best to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall. He hated feeling like this… he hated feeling at all. "I'll make it until then…"

"Goodbye…" the army doctor's voice was very quiet now. "No smoking please… for me? I love you."

Sherlock made a noise like a strangled animal. "I promise." He pushed his lips against the screen that separated them. He never got to say 'I love you,' before the screen went black.

Despite the promise he had just made and the love he held for his fiancé; the consulting detective couldn't take the pain, the emotion, the headache, the case… the everything. He reached for his hidden glossy box of cigarettes, and slowly lighting one he let the room fill with the welcoming odor.

"I need you to fill out these papers on the case. You were right about who did it… we just haven't caught them yet." Lestrade was siting a cross from the Yard's current consulting detective as he pushed a thick stack of papers over.

"Obviously…."

Lestrade sat there for a minute watching Sherlock begin to fill out the papers. There was obviously a question on his lips, but he didn't want to ask.

"Go on... ask." The detective didn't even look up from his paperwork. Damn, he was good.

"Uhm…" Lestrade started off uncertain as he began his question. "That ring… from the other day. What was that?"

The detective grunted without really even looking up. "That was two days ago, Lestrade. Clearly you engage yourself in far too many trivial matters."

"So... you aren't going to tell me then?"

This time Sherlock looked up. "Fine, I'll… engage you." He pulled the ring out from his coat pocket and handed it to the DI. "What do you deduce from this?"

The DI hated paying these games. Every time he asked about the detective's life he was forced to play a round of 'deduce me if you can.' It was tiring, and he often refused to play. This time however, he really was quite curious. "uhm… it is.. a man's wedding ring… no… engagement ring." Lestrade ran his fingers over the gold band and still continued to look for details. "It doesn't look like it's been worn much, and seeing as you have it on a chain and in your pocket that says you aren't that worried about losing it… otherwise you'd have it around your neck. It is obviously too small for you… and the engraving I can't really read but it looks like it contains initials."

Sherlock smirked. "Good job, Detective Inspector. Much better than the last two times we played." He gingerly took the ring back and replaced it in his pocket. "You're right... it is a man's engagement ring. It doesn't fit, therefore it is not mine. However, I am worried about losing it, but I do enjoy sentiment sometimes and keeping it close to my heart in this pocket seems fitting."

"It doesn't fit, therefore it isn't yours… so you're not engaged?"

"Yes… I am…" Sherlock's pen stopped on the paperwork that he and barely looked up from throughout the entire discussion. "John wears mine on his dog tags and I have his. He always was bugging me about... sentiment. He's an army doctor... in Afghanistan. Second tour." As quickly as the conversation started; it stopped and Sherlock went back to writing furiously on his packet of paper.

"Oh…"

Did you know he was engaged?

-GL

Who? Freak?

-SD

Yeah… he's uncharacteristically sentimental about that ring he carries around. Said his fiancé is in the army.

-GL

He's a fantastic actor that bloke. I don't believe a word of it. Wouldn't we have met this girl by now?

-SD

Guy… his name is John.

-GL

Gay? Hmmm… seems fitting… lol. Easy enough name to make up, and an easy enough story to get sympathy. He's lying, Greg. Don't feel sorry for him.

-SD

I don't know, Sally. He is oddly sentimental about it. I think this guy might exist.

-GL

Who would want to marry the Freak? After all... is he really capable of any emotion?

-SD

True….

-GL

"Freak!" Sally cornered the detective. By now the entire Yard knew about the 'John' story and almost no one believed in his existence. "How sad, making up a story for sympathy? Never thought you had it in you!" He could hear the laughter of the Yarders, but he tried to tune it out. He needed to talk to Lestrade.

He pushed open the door with a 'clang' and moved a chair so he was sitting directly opposite of the DI. He threw a packet of paper down on the desk. "No cases next week."

The DI lifted his eyes form the computer screen. "Are these the forms from case number 9 from yesterday? And, excuse me?"

"Yes… and you heard me, I'm not going to say it again."

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "No cases? At all? What if I get a 10? You're going to want me to call you."

"Something… personal has come up." The detective ran a hand through his hair, and it was then that Greg realized how awful the detective really looked. He looked like he hadn't gotten sleep in days, or even eaten. It looked almost like he had been crying and he looked absolutely distraught. "You are not to call me under any circumstances. Even a 10." His eyes were completely icy as he looked straight at the DI.

"I understand. Is everything ok? You look like shit."

The detective rolled his eyes. "You don't actually care, Lestrade. Don't worry yourself over trivial matters. It is just a small family issue, but I prefer not to discuss it. You know I don't do sentiment." He wrinkled his nose at the last word.

"You were pretty sentimental about that ring…" Lestrade knew he shouldn't have brought it up, but he needed more information… well, he wanted it. He saw Sherlock visibly stiffen.

"That was not information I wanted you partial to… but, you seemed insistent. Now the entire Yard knows; thanks to one Sally Donavan, and everyone thinks that John is a fake. I understand your need to be included in everyone's personal life and such trivial matters as who is sleeping with whom… but, as I said, I no longer wish to discuss anything about this topic. Do you have a case for me today?"

And, just like that the topic changed, and so did Sherlock's tone. The DI decided to leave it alone as he handed over yet another stack of papers. "I'll accompany you to the scene. 23 year-old woman fresh out of uni. Shot in her flat. We can't find the room mate… no clues and no suspects… you in?"

Sherlock smirked. "The game is on... although this is blindingly obvious… if you can't find the flat mate it was her. However, I must deduce the crime scene to acquire more accurate information."

With that the consulting detective bounded out of the room giving the DI not nearly enough time to grab his own coat and follow. If he was sure of one thing though it was that John… whoever he was probably did exist.

A/N: *end scene* Hey guys! Big thanks to Parivash who read this fic and made sure everything was awesome and perfect! Chapter 2 will be coming soon! To reprise what I said in my first authors note… please understand that I do NOT condone what Caitlin Moran did at the Empty Hearse screening the other day and I do NOT wish that my fics will ever be read by the actors or writers. Like many others this is just for my enjoyment and I share it because I think others will like it! 3 Thanks for reading you guys make me smile all the time!