Do you even care? (Johnlock fanfic)

Chapter 2

They arrived at the station in a cab and Detective Inspector Lestrade was waiting for them at the entrance.
"Follow me," he said, gesturing for the two men to enter the building.
He took them through the narrow corridors and into his office where they were told to be seated in the chairs in front of his desk.
Lestrade sat down. "There have been two murders - one male, one female. Both were found strangled in their homes with a red rose between their lips. No finger prints were found and there is no connection as yet between the two victims. What do you make of it?" he asked, sliding a folder across the table to Sherlock and John.
Sherlock took the folder and opened it so John could see also. Inside it was the details of the murder so far and photographs of the crime scene. The woman was a 19 year old university student called Jenny Watts and the boy was a 16 year old called Frankie Banks. Both of the victims were of outstanding beauty - they were the kind of people you'd notice in a crowd.
"How long can you give me?" Sherlock asked, looking up from the photographs at Lestrade.
"Five minutes," he replied.
"Oh come on! If you want my help I need longer!"
"Sherlock, there's only so much I can do. Not many people trust you around here."
Sherlock huffed and walked out of the office, not waiting for John or Lestrade.
"Come on then, before he gets a cab without us," John said to the detective inspector as he got up and followed Sherlock out the door.
Sherlock was hailing a cab when the two men went outside. One pulled up and the three gentlemen sat down inside it.
"St Barts Hospital," said Sherlock to the driver.
"How did you know the bodies were there?" Lestrade asked him as the cab slowly joined the main road.
"It's been two days since the last murder. You're telling me that you just like to keep dead bodies lying around for a week?" Sherlock replied.
Lestrade stayed silent.

~

When they reached the hospital Lestrade and Sherlock both got out and left John to pay for the fare.
"Good thing I've got money, the bloody gits," he muttered, handing over his money to the driver who smiled slightly at John's remark.
John got out of the cab and made his way to the entrance. I thought we were a team, he thought, but he just leaves me behind.
John reached the morgue and he could see that Sherlock was already at work deducing, while Lestrade watched eagerly. Sherlock was looking at the boy and examining every part of him. He also took the boys clothes that he had been killed in and examined them with his pocket magnifying glass. John wondered wether he actually needed it or he just had it for show. He chuckled at the thought.
Sherlock suddenly yelled. "Aha! You idiots, did you not see the piece of paper in the boy's jeans?"
"What?" Lestrade said, reading over Sherlock's shoulder.
"What does it say?" John asked. Both men jumped slightly and looked over to where John was standing. They obviously hadn't noticed him stood there this entire time.
"How long have you bee-" Lestrade started but was interrupted by Sherlock.
"It simply says 'When a fox hears a rabbit screaming, he come a-running but not to help'."
"That's a bit morbid," remarked Lestrade. He pulled a puzzled face. "What do you suppose it means?"
"No idea," replied Sherlock handing the small paper to him. "Get this run for fingerprints, although I don't think you'll find any."
Lestrade nodded and walked out of the room, making his way to the labs.
"Here, John. What do you make of this?" Sherlock asked, beckoning him over.
John walked over and glanced at the boy. Psh, he wants my help now? After ignoring me for ten minutes, he thought. "Do you actually want my help?"
Sherlock looked confused. "Well, of course, John. You're a doctor and your opinion is incre-"
"So don't do this to humour yourself, then?" John interrupted. Sherlock looked even more confused. "Come on! You know that you're smarter than me and you probably have everything you need to know about this boy, so why do you need my opinion?" John was surprised at how harsh his tone was. He never spoke to Sherlock like this before but for some reason he felt like it needed to be said. He had had enough of being Sherlock's second.
"John, I don't understand where this has come from."
"Oh yes, sorry. You don't do emotions," John said bluntly and started to walk out the room. He felt a pressure on his shoulder and spun around to see Sherlock looking upset.
"I have emotions, John. I just suppress them. More than you know," he said, dropping his hand from John's shoulder.
John stared  into his eyes for a moment then turned around and walked out.

---------------------------------------------

A/N

I really hope you like the second chapter! I had writers block for ages trying to figure out how to write this. Votes and comments are appreciated!!
Sandwich 😜