"26 seconds today. I know, not my best time." Sherlock said, with a smirk. He looked at the other man from the side, with an arched brow. "You're having a date tonight, John."  The neat pants, the shirt, the expensive shoes. It all told Sherlock a lot. Damn this man and his brain. No other man on earth could think like this. So fast, like a machine.<br/><br/>He moved towards the window again, looking out with a furrowed brow and a frown. On the other side of the road, a couple. It really looked like a normal couple, but Sherlocks keen eyes saw a lot more. "Reporters." He spat out. "It's all because of this dreaded blog." Of course, John's blog granted a regular income now. "As if they have nothing better to do than to spy on me. And all they are about is me. And you." Sherlock said, turning to look at his housemate. "Do you know what they call me, John? A Celebrity!"  he said, shaking his head. "This is tedious."<br/><br/>John probably will notice Sherlocks slightly shaking hands while he lifted his tea cup. Withdrawl, no doubt. The man slumped back in the comfortable chair, while Mrs. Hudson slipped into the room. "Oh, good morning, Dr. Watson. I heard you come down. Here's some coffee for you."  - the woman said, smiling to John while she offered him the steaming cup. She was no housekeeper, but now and then she enjoyed it, to bring them coffee or food. "He hasn't eaten."  she whispered to John, before she left again.<br/><br/>Sherlock watched her go, before he spoke, in a sightly impatient tone. "Alright. Where is it, John? We both know that you hid it again, and before I start to turn the apartment upside down, it's easier to tell me where it is." He took another sip from his tea. "Okay. Please." Oh wow! Sherlock actually said it. The magic word. It took a lot, and Sherlock rarely said 'please', or god forbid 'Thank you'.<br/><br/>"They found a third body tonight, down by the river." he said. "Male again. Nothing was stolen, the body was clean and dry. It was raining last night, until 3 am, which means that the body must have been brought to the river after 3 am. Laying on his back like the other two, shot with his very own gun. Twice. In the head. Who shoots someone twice in the head?" Sherlock said, watching John. "And why? Jealousy probably. Passion, definitely. Hate? Maybe. The murderer wants the body to be found, doesn't make any effort to hide it. Is it possible for someone to survive a shot to the head? Does the killer want to be certain the victim will not survive?"  All this was said in.. seconds. Typically Sherlock. "Inspire me, John."