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All the windows and doors were locked. The branches outside brushing against the windows got drowned out by the endless chatter of the telly. He didn’t live in a nice flat, but it helped to hide away from Scotland Yard. They were trailing his every move thanks to the “wonderful” Sherlock Bloody Holmes. He was beginning to feel restless, trying to anticipate their every move. It got exhausting trying not to think of Holmes as well, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted to get caught by Sherlock not Scotland Yard.
John was starting to get anxious, he stared at his laptop screen. Waiting, always waiting. Sighing he got up and started to pace, listening to the news channel that was on, waiting for any sign that Sherlock might be on to him. Or perhaps he could exploit some of the crimes and attract him? No, that was a stupid idea. He was far too intelligent. He’s never dealt with this kind of man before, Scotland Yard must be getting desperate. Yeah okay, so John has killed ten people in the process. But he was desperate for the attention.
John plopped down on the couch--which came with the house--and dropped his head into his hands and steadied his breathing. John was getting aroused just thinking about the detective. He couldn’t stand staying in this flat any longer. He needed to get out and get fresh air. He sighed and looked at the clock. It was night already, he’ll take advantage of this chance to go satisfy this on-growing attraction and need for the man.
John grabbed his Browning L9A1 and tucked it in his pants, resting against the small of his back. Knife resting in his pocket, John turned off the telly and put on his jacket. He grabbed his keys and exited the flat. Locking the door behind him, he sauntered outside to breathe in the chilly air. Now where would he go? He can’t be seen and needs to leave as little evidence as possible. John frowned as he saw a police car parked up the street. Crap. He hailed down a taxi and asked them to take him to the nearest pub. He needed to pass as a normal civilian. He could do this. It hadn’t been too long since he went out for a drink.
Pulling up to the pub John jumped out and hushed a quick thanks, throwing some notes at the cabbie. Walking in, he noticed a bunch of young kids sitting in the corner, laughing obnoxiously. He grimaced and moved to the opposite corner of the pub and sat alone, ordering a pint.
~
He didn’t have to wait long until one of the kids said his goodbyes. He listened in carefully to what he was saying. Something about having to go meet his girlfriend for a quick shag. His friends sniggered behind his back now about how he left his wallet. John smirked and got up shortly after the boy left.
Walking out, he looked around until he saw the kid walking away in the distance. John checked his watch. Eleven P.M. Perfect. He propped his collar up, shoved his hands into his pocket, and trailed after the kid slowly. John didn’t think he could be any luckier to be able have such an oblivious youth at his mercy within the next few minutes. His hands started to tremble a bit, he was getting restless. His urge was getting stronger. He needed to be caught.
He was a few steps behind him now. John looked around and saw no one paying any attention to them. In one swift motion he grabbed the kid and shoved him into a nearby alleyway. He put his hand over the struggling kid’s mouth and put his own next to the boy’s ear.
“You were just the unlucky one.” John whispered.
His free hand reached into his pocket and grabbed his knife. His Browning would be too loud and attract attention.
“Shhhh” He cooed, and slit the kid’s throat.
The kid collapsed onto the floor after a few moments. John relaxed and put his knife into his pocket, realizing shortly afterwards that he wasn’t alone. There was a shadow to his right, a long and slender one.
“Found him.” The low baritone voice joked.
“Honestly, John. Did you really think you could outsmart me? You’re just like the rest, you get bored and restless.” The man walked over to John.
“Hello, Sherlock.” John sneered. He kept his eyes on his bloodied hands. His breathing quickened as the sirens became audible in the near distance. John sighed and glared at Sherlock.
Sherlock smirked and gripped John’s forearms. He felt John stiffen, his pupils were dilated. Oh! Interesting.
Sherlock shoved John against the wall and whispered into his ear “It makes sense now, John. You wanted to get caught didn’t you?” John couldn't help but to shudder under Sherlock's warm weight.
Sherlock parted John’s legs with his knee. “Game. Over.” He purred and dragged him deeper into the alleyway.
All John could do was whimper.