SHERLOCK Preferences and Oneshots

I Need Advice (Sherlock)

Sherlock circled the corpse that lay on the ground, his coat flying behind him. The latex rubber gloves that tightly hugged his large hands squeaked slightly as he poked and prodded the body, searching for any clues that would help him come to the bottom of the murder.

He knew that much, that it was murder. But everything else about the case was really just so vague that Sherlock was a bit lost. Of course, he wouldn't tell anybody this, except maybe John, his closest friend and companion. Which he did end up doing.

"John! Come see this!" the detective shouted through the flat of 221B, and the doctor quickly burst into the living room.

"What is it, Sherlock? Is something wrong?" John's eyes were at first wide with concern, then realized to and expression of tiredness as he saw that his flatmate was not in trouble, merely hunched over his laptop. Still, he must have discovered something important and therefore relevant to the current case, and John wanted to be as supportive of Sherlock's career as possible (plus the fact that he also enjoyed it).

"No, no. Come look." Sherlock's bright blue eyes didn't waver from the computer screen and examined the photographs, not quite getting the thrill that his flatmate was.

"...What exactly am I looking at?"

"The killer left these at the sight of the murder,"  Sherlock explained, gesturing to the pictures of various small weapons scattered across what looked like a living room carpet.

"Good..." John trailed off, the statement sounding more like a question. "How exactly does that...help you?"

Sherlock attempted not to roll his eyes at John's ignorance. "Isn't it obvious?"

"What do you think?" John scrunched his eyebrows in annoyance.

Sherlock huffed and turned his eyes back to the computer screen. "The killer was too clever to have made this mistake. It's too simple. You saw the meticulousness of the crime scene; the murderer knew he would get caught if he left too much behind. He cleaned up everything at the scene, all his fingerprints were gone, he even cleaned up what was left of the bodies. Not at all possible that he simply 'forgot.' All I need to do now is find out why he left the weapons there, which means I need to see someone who knows and understands the criminal psychology." Sherlock stood and began to don his famous blue scarf and midnight coat.

"(Y/N)?" John guessed.

Sherlock nodded, grabbing his phone from the table and quickly typing out a text to his psychology specialist. "Let's go. We have no time to waste."

And with that, the two left the flat at 221B Baker Street, hailing a cab and leaving, their destination being Scotland Yard once again.

Sherlock was very excited and ready to solve this case.

According to him: "The game is on!"