“Hello John, I missed you.”
“Sherlock!” John catches the glint of a knife blade in the lamp light and forces himself not to take a step back. “This isn’t you.”
Sherlock grips Johns arm like a vice. “Things change John. It’s beautiful really, every death is different.” Sherlock grins as he slides the blade slowly across the doctors face watching as the blood slowly ooze from the fresh cut. “ I’ve been practicing.”
John clenches his jaw against the sting.
“Don’t worry, you will enjoy this just as much as I will.”