The Gay Is On (Johnlock)

Chapter 3

Sherlock immediately looked over at John, who had a look of panic on his face. Before he could think it over, Sherlock grabbed John's hand and didn't let go. John squeezed it, not too hard, but enough to let Sherlock know that he was grateful.

The car stopped, and Sherlock and John reluctantly released each other's hands and got out. John took a deep breath, and walked over, with Sherlock, to where Lestrade was standing.

"Look, guys I know what y--" Lestrade was cut off by Sherlock.

"Just show us the body."

"It's um..it's on the roof."

John took in a sharp breath. Lestrade looked at him apologetically.

He looked over at Sherlock, who looked at him with concerned eyes. "If you don't want to do this, we'll leave right now." He said gently.

John shook his head. "No, I can't just...avoid this place forever." His voice cracked involuntarily, and he swore under his breath.

Sherlock said, "Let's go."

As they climbed up the stairs, John grabbed Sherlock's hand, not caring what Lestrade or anyone else thought. To his surprise, Sherlock interlocked his long fingers with John's as they reached the roof.

John took in another sharp breath as they emerged on top of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and bit his lip to keep the tears gathering in his eyes inside his eyes. Sherlock squeezed his hand, but then let go to take a look at the body.

(A/N: Graphic-ish stuff coming up. )

The body of a young woman, no older than twenty, was lying near the edge of the building. Her neck was twisted at an odd angle, and stab wounds covered her body.

Sherlock took no time to begin his deductions.

"Hmmm, looks about 19. Her neck is obviously broken. The blood is still wet around her neck area, yet the blood where the stab wounds are are not. The killer obviously tortured her before killing her. Maybe he wanted some kind of revenge? No, I'm stupid, STUPID. The suit she is wearing shows that she is a successful businesswoman, so what did the killer want? Information, most likely. She probably didn't give it to him, either."

Lestrade interjected. "Him?"

"Yes, 'him', do you really think a woman could break someone's neck with her bare hands? Balance of probability. Anyway, judging from where she is in the building, the killer was about to push her over to make her look like she committed suicide, but it looks like someone caught him before he could finish the job. So, either he did it at night, and was caught by a suspicious onlooker, or...he's still here."

Lestrade looked around nervously, and then picked up his pager. "I need maximum backup, St. Bart's hospital, NOW."

Sherlock looked over at John, his eyes sparkling a bit. John smiled sadly at him and said, "Brilliant. Like always,".

Sherlock's eyes filled with tears, and he looked at stepped forward and gently touched his arm. "It's okay. Look, I'm ri--"

All of the sudden a huge force knocked Sherlock backwards. His feet slipped off the roof, so the only thing that was holding him to the edge was his hands. His knuckles were white, as he was the gripping the edge as hard as he could. John kept crying out his name, yelling so loudly his voice was raw. But he couldn't think about that now. He had to concentrate. He looked up at who had pushed him over the edge, and found himself face to face with the suspected murderer. He wasn't alone--his gang of two other men had grabbed and gagged both John and Lestrade.

"Why, if it isn't Sherlock Holmes..." The killer sneered, spitting in Sherlock's face. "Doesn't this seem familiar? Except this time, you'll actually be DEAD." He stepped, hard, on one of Sherlock's hands. Sherlock removed it on instinct; He was now dangling on the edge of a roof by one hand.