Sherlock- Just like you...

First encounter

"No, I'm not saying you're wrong, Sherlock, I'm just saying it doesn't add up!"

"What doesn't add up? It all make sense!"

Once again, Sherlock was having to explain why the son killed the mother, and how it was all to get the money. To him, it was so obvious, but too John, it wasn't. They were arguing in the back of a cab. The cabby, only a few seconds after they started arguing, closed the plastic window at the front, so he couldn't hear their irritating disagreement.

"But the son was happy with the money he had. His mother gave him money whenever he wanted it. He had no reason to kill her. Also, did you see him when he found his mother, dead, he was distraught," John explained. He was used to Sherlock not listening to his ideas, but this time he was sure he was onto something.

"Yes, but then you have to take in the fact that no one was with him from twelve to around half one, and his shift finished at twelve. What did he do in that hour and a half? It only takes thirty minutes to walk home, and Sarah Fisher was killed at around one. Thirty minutes to get home, thirty minutes to kill her and clean u-"
"So you're accusing him because he took a long time to get home? Where's the murder weapon?"

"Peter got the gun, which his father kept in his bedside draw, and used it to kill his mother. Once he used it, he took it back to his fathers draw and reloaded it, so all the bullets were there. And how did I know Peter fired the gun? Because when I was interviewing him he kept his sleeve covering his right hand or, in other words, his firing hand. To see if my theory was true, I dropped my phone on the floor and he picked it up, uncovering his hand and displaying lacerations and friction injuries on his purlicue, you find that on many people who use a gun for the first time, and that is why Peter killed his mother."

John looked at Sherlock in total amazement. He gave a chuckle and shook his head, "Amazing... absolutely amazing." John muttered. He turned to face out the window, and so did Sherlock. They had almost reached their house when something caught Johns attention. A girl was being pinned against the wall by her throat. A man who looked around twice Johns height was threatening her. John didn't give it a second thought before he yelled for the Cabby to stop. He jumped out the car and ran towards her. Sherlock shuffled towards the open door and looked at what John was doing.

"HEY! GET AWAY FROM HER!" John screamed. Once Sherlock caught onto what was happening he quickly gave money to the driver and dashed out the car towards John. The man who was holding the girl against a wall ran away as he saw John and Sherlock running toward him. Once this hand released her neck she gasped for air and started breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" John asked. He went to bend down slightly, to become level with her height, but he didn't realise that she was leaning against the wall -which meant she was a lot taller- and when she regained her posture she was actually an inch taller than John.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for that." She said. She had long caramel hair which was tied up in a long ponytail, and her eyes were a bright grey colour. Her skin was pale, but it was mainly because of the biting cold air.
"What was all that about?" John asked.
"I don't know-" She began before Sherlock interrupted:
"Yes, you do." Sherlock looked the girl up and down, doing his deduction again.
"Sherlock, you can't say things like that!" John barked at Sherlock.
"But she does know," Sherlock said in a childish tone. John turned towards the girl and furrowed his eyebrows.

"If I knew, I would have told you..." She looked at Sherlock who was still looking her up and down, "Is he normally-"

"Anxiety," Sherlock mumbled, "No sibling, deaf in one ear, bruised hands, flattened fingertips and..." Sherlock squinted at her and then continued to mutter to himself, "burn marks-"