A/N: My first FanFic, guys, so go gentle on me :) Not entirely sure how long this is going to be; I guess it depends on where the plot goes, and the level of interest I get. So, REVIEW! And if there's something you particularly want to read, REVIEW or PM me, and I shall take it into consideration!

Forever yours,

The Plot Ninja

John was in a patient consultation when his phone first started humming along the desk. The force behind the vibrations made the device crawl towards the edge threateningly, daring him not to answer.

Excusing himself to the elderly woman with "pain here, here, here and here", he caught it just before it crashed to the lino floor.

I require your assistance –SH

John sighed, tucking his phone into his pocket. 'Sorry about that,' he told Mrs. Williams as he turned back to her. 'Where were we?'

'My elbow,' the woman croaked, stretching out the joint with a creak. 'Is it cancer?'

'It's very unlikely that it would be – hold on,' John said again, and, ignoring Mrs. Williams' look of indignation at being disrespected so, he plucked the phone from his pocket once more; the vibrate setting on his phone wasn't this loud before, he could swear; in fact, just three days ago he had received upwards of twenty-five texts without realising, because it was so quiet. Needless to say, Sherlock had not been impressed.

John swiped his finger across the screen, opening the text.

This is a matter of great urgency. Please return home –SH

With his brow furrowed into a scowl, John keyed in his response.

Working. Can't leave. –JW

He jumped as his patient coughed impatiently. 'Sorry for that. Here, I'm just going to check for lumps on your arm...' The buzzing in his pocket resumed with renewed vigour, but he left it be, focussing his attention on reassuring a now rather cranky Mrs. Williams that if she started taking her arthritis pills he had prescribed last time, the pain would recede, and no, it was not cancer, lung disease nor the onset of a stroke.

Ten minutes later, he closed his office door behind her, and tapped at his phone, sighing as he flicked through his messages; however, his expression quickly turned from exasperated to anxious.

I could be in terrible danger. –SH

Usually you're so gullible, why is it this particular time that you decide not to believe me? –SH

Oh, and where do we keep the tweezers? –SH

Also, I'm having trouble locating the first aid kit. –SH

John. –SH

John. –SH

John. –SH

No need to worry – I shot him, and the police and fire department are on their way. – SH

At reading this last text, John swept his coat from the hook, rushing from the clinic without a glance backwards. 'Emergency at home,' he announced to the receptionist at the desk, who, having met Sherlock once before, called after him, 'I'll say a prayer for you.'

Once in the taxi, John hastily turned to his phone once more, navigating to his messages.

First aid kit – under sink in bathroom. Tweezers there. Unless flat is on fire, in which case get out. What have u done? –JW

No reply came, and it only made John's nerves grow as the cab neared 221B.