Prologue Sherlock's POV
“John, you don't understand, this man, he is a walking pit of... of evil, of pain, of suffering! We have to catch him, John, you have to understand, we can’t let him continue on like this!” We couldn't let him carry on, we couldn't let Culverton Smith continue. He had to be stopped, before he killed again, before he tried to kill me again. he was evil, we caught evil people, it’s what we did. And, and Mary said to do it. Mary told me to do it, I had to save John and stop Smith and save everyone else before Culverton got them because he would kill us all and it wouldn’t stop until all of us were dead!
“Alright, alright, Sherlock, calm down. Just breathe a minute, okay? Just breathe.” John told me, hands up protectively, like he thought I’d hurt him. Of course, I wouldn’t hurt him, not John! Of course I wouldn’t hurt John!
“I can’t calm down, there’s no time to calm down! There’s a serial killer out there and nobody even knows it! we have to stop him!” I had to ignore the voice in my head, it was nothing more than a drug induced hallucination, there were more important things to do now. Important things like stopping serial killers.
“Sherlock, we have stopped him! He’s in prison now, you said it yourself, he won’t stop confessing!” John told me, that couldn't be right.
“I never said such a thing, don't be stupid, John, it doesn’t suit you.” I barged past, back to the wall, smothered with photos of Smith, all the potential evidence there. There had to be something, anything, in there to prove Culverton’s guilt, there had to be. There was always evidence, serial killers always slipped up, always made a mistake. Even the clever ones had to make a mistake somewhere. I just had to find it.
“Sherlock, stop this, I mean it. Culverton is in prison, he was arrested at the hospital, remember? You got his confession, got him arrested, and the police have enough evidence to put him away for life. It’s over, it’s all over.” John grabbed my arm, I flinched back, tearing myself away from him.
He’d... he’d hit me. In, in Culverton’s favourite room. He’d hit me over and over, the pain, I still... I still had the stitches. I couldn't... I’d made him so angry.
“I’m sorry, but please, please you have to listen to me, John. I’m not making this up, Culverton is a serial killer, and we’re the only ones who can stop him. We just have to prove it, it’s in the evidence somewhere, please, just help me. you have to help me, I can’t do this on my own.” I needed him, more than ever. But John was so easily angered, I had to keep him on my good side, even when I deserved the beating. He could do what he wanted later, I just needed help now.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs, the door bursting open, revealing Mycroft’s men.
“What are you doing here? You’re not allowed in here.” No-one was allowed in the flat. Not unless they were clients or friends. Mycroft’s men were neither, they weren’t allowed up! It wasn't their place to be!
“I’m sorry, Sherlock, but they’re only here to help.” John sighed, giving me an apologetic look.
“What do you mean, they’re here to help? They’re morons, they can’t help!” They weren’t even members of Scotland Yard, who were useless enough as it was. What were Mycroft’s men going to do exactly?!
The men grabbed my arms, starting to pull me towards the door.
“John, what’s going on? Where are they taking me? John? John what’s happening?” I didn't understand, what were they doing here? And why were they taking me? I didn't... I hadn’t done anything, why were they here?!
“They here to help, like I said.” John stayed in the flat, watching as I helplessly got dragged away, “I’m sorry, I really am.”
“What for? I don't, where am I going?” I didn't understand, couldn't understand. I was trying to catch a killer, why were these men here?! Why were they taking me away?
Why... why was there an injection needle? Why did they have that? It wasn't cocaine, it definitely wasn't cocaine! What was it?! What were they giving me? Why was... everything... getting... darker.