Brilliant and Unloved (A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 1: The Return

Sherlock's POV:

I paced silently in front of John, my fingers steepled beneath my chin. He watched me from his chair, worry hidden behind his sea-gray eyes. "A body was found in Greenwich Park this morning," John said, picking up the newspaper from the table. I'd already seen the article when Mrs. Hudson dropped it off earlier but I pretended to consider the case nonetheless. Of course I had already solved it - boyfriend took her on a hiking date and strangled her from behind - but at least John was trying. We'd gone months without a case - even Lestrade seemed to be solving them on his own. The utter nothingness was suffocating and my thoughts had recently become more and more demanding. I could tell John worried. He always worried but lately his hands were never relaxed by his side, always trembling as if he was waiting for the worst.

"Sherlock are you listening?" "Apologies," I mumbled softly. "I'm going to the market... would you like anything?" John asked. I looked him up and down. The worry behind his eyes had been replaced with a twinge of annoyance. I cringed. "Just some milk, thanks." John nodded in acknowledgment and turned towards the door. As he reached for the handle, the door bursted open and a flustered looking Lestrade stumbled into the flat. "Is everything alright Greg?" John asked, stepping back. "Greenwich Park.... now."

John and I sat beside each other on the ride through London. The tremor in his hand had disappeared and it lay still beside my leg. His eyes were focused straight ahead. I took the time to memorize the lines on his face, the bags beneath his eyes darker than I had remembered. I sighed and turned towards the window, quickly glimpsing my reflection. I too had bags beneath my eyes and small hairs were beginning to poke out from my chin. After a couple minutes, we arrived at a packed crime scene. I pushed through the crowd towards the woman's body. My deductions were confirmed by Lestrade as he ran through the details of the case. She had in fact been hiking in the woods with her boyfriend and there were rope burns on her neck. I lifted her hair to examine the wounds but a red scratch behind her ear caught my eye. Engraved into her skin were three letters. I. O. U.

I looked at John in disbelief. The doctor kneeled down beside me and ran his fingers over the scab. "It's about two days old," he said softly. I exhaled slowly. "There's no way John, he's dead. He has to be dead," I said with no emotion, despite the confusion that burrowed itself in my mind. "Well no shit, Sherlock! You watched him blow his brains out, of course he's dead!" John exclaimed, his voice breaking. Memories flashed before my eyes. I could still smell the stale chlorine, still see the hunger in his black eyes, but most of all... I could still feel the utter shock that I had failed. I was so close to losing John that day, and the moment still haunted my nightmares.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, shaking my shoulder. I stood and faced Lestrade. "Call Mycroft," I demanded. "He's back."