Chapter 1

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Sherlock

How puny these people's minds are, so dull. Always seeing but never noticing.  The cabbie driving the taxi slows down at a light. I know he's not a murderer because of the way he tied his shoes. Outside,  shops flash by; The Tescos that is run by the man who is a serial adulterer,  the newlook run by a woman who doesn't yet know she's pregnant and the off license run by a man whose mother has just died.

"That's £8.60 mate"

The cabbie's voice is gravelly and slow,  he clearly has no intelligence.  I should be lucky that there is no competition for my skills, but though i'd never admit it to John or Mycroft, I sometimes feel lonely.  No! Not lonely,  lonely is a weakness;  I'm tired of being around average people and I miss intellectual conversation,  yes that's it!

I hand over the money in the form of a £10 note and tell him to keep the change,  judging by his breathing he'll be dead in a week anyway.  I step up to the front door of 221b and smile,  John is home, the knocker is wonky and I know John places it like so just to irritate Mycroft incase he drops by. Inside however there is trouble,  there is a penny on the floor, mine and Johns code for an intruder. 

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