"Y/N!?" Sherlock hollered from upstairs, I groaned and rolled off my couch.
"What!?" I yelled back, glaring at my door.
"Come here!" He replied. I growled, standing up slowly. I stumbled out the door and over to the stairs.
"What do you want.." I snapped from the bottom of the stairs.
"Come upstairs!!" Sherlock yelled again. I snarled climbing up the stairs, entering Sherlock's flat.
"What could you possibly want at 5 in the morning!?" I screamed, flopping down onto his couch with a yawn.
"Someone to talk to." Sherlock was sitting in his chair by the window, his violin leaned against the chair.
"Talk to John." I grumbled, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders.
"John gets boring when he's sleeping." Sherlock shrugged, his eyes glinted with amusement. I rolled my eyes and stifled a chuckle.
"Fine, what do you want to talk about?" I asked, laying down on his couch.
"How about a case?" He suggested, I sat straight up, my eyes huge with excitement.
"You want to talk about a case with me? B-but I'm just a baker!" I cried, barely hiding my giddy childish glee.
"Yes, but you're interesting, you'll be my temporary John, because he's sleeping." Sherlock nodded, watching me closely.
"So what's the case?" I leaned forward, my eyes trained on his features, he smirked slightly.
"How about a serial killer?" Sherlock lifted his violin carefully, shooting a curious look at me.
"That's sounds so cool!" I smiled, leaning forward even further.
"If you lean any further you'll fall over." He chuckled. I blushed, embarrassed before sitting back on the couch.
"Sorry, im just excited!" I smiled widely. He nodded.
"I'm glad you're interested." He smirked slightly and began to explain the case. "The serial killer murdered and gutted a woman, hanging her on the pole outside this building;" he handed me a graphic picture that made bile rise in my throat. "The second victim he did the same thing but hung her outside on the clothesline of this building." He handed me another picture.
"They're both blonde.." I commented.
"Good, what else?"
"Uh, they both seem underweight." I pointed out.
"Good, John didn't notice that and he's a doctor." He smirked. I laughed and kept examining the photo.
"Those cuts..." I whispered. Sherlock looked at me curiously.
"What about them?" He asked.
"Come downstairs to the bakery!" I cried, leaping off the couch and tearing off down the stairs, scrambling into the bakery, opening the door with my key. Sherlock chased after me, grabbing his coat. I snatched a couple knives off of the rack and threw them down on the counter, and grabbed a piece of thick pork.
"The butcher just down the street comes here to pick up meat sometimes, and he was showing us how to cut the meat..." I explained, lifting one knife and slashing it through the pork. It left a mark that was too thick for the picture, I grabbed the next knife.
"Very intelligent Y/N." Sherlock complimented, I smiled slightly at him and slashed the knife through again, this one was a butcher knife. The cuts looked exactly like the ones in the picture.
"This is the type of knife he used!" I cried, restraining from leaping with a sick excitement. It was weird how much this excited me.
"I'm impressed, thank you for this information Y/N, let's go back upstairs." He nodded, walking out the door. I hung the knives back up and then followed him.
We talked about the case for a few hours, reading papers and pointing out things, we charted all the murders and he showed me all the rest of the pictures which made me queasy. I pressed a tack into the wall and examined our trail.
"So the victims seem to be getting murdered in a pattern, they started on the four corners of the city, and now they're moving inwards in squares." I recited what Sherlock had already told me.
"They're getting closer to central London.." Sherlock stood, examining the clippings on the wall.
"The next murder will be here." I realized, pointing to the last corner on the newest unfinished square.
"That's a shopping plaza, most can pass unnoticed in there." He replied, his gaze was hard.
"Yes, should we tell the Scotland Yard?" I asked, looking up at him.
"I'll text Lestrade." Sherlock nodded, grabbing his phone. I sat back down on the couch, exhausted from the lack of sleep. The sun shone through the windows, it mocked me with its glow.
"How are you two up already?" John grumbled, stepping out of his room.
"We haven't slept." I turned slowly and looked at him, he cracked a laugh and sat in his chair.
"That was the most dramatic face I've seen yet!" He laughed, smiling at me. I smiled tiredly back and laid back on the couch.
"Y/N get up we have to go meet Lestrade." Sherlock called walking back in.
"No! I'm tired! That's John's job." I yelled, rolling over with my back turned to him.
"John?" Sherlock peered at him.
"I have to take care of Rosamund, if you forgot I have a baby." John smirked, Sherlock frowned and nodded.
"Yes, fine. Y/N John can't come, get up." He grabbed my arm and pulled me off the couch. I just gave a grunt of protest.