Sherlock's POV:
Promises. Ah promises. A bond bound only by words yet seemingly permanent. I knew I wouldn't be able to break my promise to John but if it were ever him or me, I would be the first to fall.
"Sherlock," John called from the sitting room. I turned, my eyes meeting his. "Yes John?" I replied, walking towards the window. I looked down at Baker Street. People bustled about, always in a hurry. "Lestrade came by earlier," John said casually. "Another body?" I asked, trying to hide the fear in my voice. "Yeah... a man this time I believe..." I was already out the door before John could finish his sentence. "You coming?" I asked popping my head back in, before trotting down the stairs into the brisk London air. John met me outside, quickly spitting out directions as I walked to the crime scene. The Regents Park this time. Interesting.
We arrived at the park after several minutes of John frantically trying to keep up. Lestrade greeted John as I walked up to Mycroft. "Are they connected?" I asked, not bothering to mask the concern in my voice. "As far as we know... this could be just another murder." I exhaled, relief flooding through my veins. Mycroft lead me to the body and I began my assessments. "Male, strong build - probably a construction worker," I began, brushing over the tiny scars on his arm. I lifted his head and looked behind his ear. Nothing. I sighed. Mycroft was right. I began digging through the mans pockets, looking for any clues to how he was murdered. My hands found a waxy piece of paper tucked away in his coat. I pulled it out, surprised to see a map of New York. Drawn in red across the map were three letters. I. O. U.
No, no, no. I looked at John. He was chatting with the officers across the park. I had to protect him - even if that meant sacrificing myself. "Mycroft," I called, my voice hushed. He walked over, his eyes flickering to the map in my hands. "I was wrong," he stated blankly. "You know what this means Sherlock." I looked up at my brother. "He's back. It's him." I finished. He nodded and walked towards Lestrade, leaving me with my thoughts. He was still out there - somehow, somewhere. John was in danger - Mycroft was in danger - Mrs. Hudson was in danger. I had to protect them.
Baker Street was quiet when I arrived at 221b. Mrs. Hudson looked up from her book as I stepped in, briefly greeting her before climbing the stairs to the flat. John had gone out earlier, after quickly assisting Molly with running an autopsy on the body. I pulled the man's map from my pocket as I curled up in my chair. I unfolded the paper and studied the message written upon it. The letters - blood red - streaked across the map, carefully shaped but written with an angry hand. His hand. I looked past the writing, beginning to memorize the streets of New York. The map showed mostly the eastern part of New York, the Hudson river printed through the middle. The I blocked out most of NYC and the U swooped just below long Island. I blinked slowly, tracing the O with my finger. The O circled the river. The Hudson river. This map wasn't just a coincidence - it was a warning. A gunshot echoed through the building followed by a shrill scream. "MRS. HUDSON!!"