This could potentially lead to death by BBC fans, but I am completely in love with Elementary. The dynamic between Joan and Sherlock, the cases, Sherlock's drug history, just everything is perfection!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, that honor lies with CBS and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle!

Plot: After Adam escapes from jail, he teams up with someone from Sherlock's past to bring him down. Who is this mysterious Moriarty? How does he fit into Sherlock's past life in London? And how does he know to use his rehabilitation against him? Will Joan be able to help him through the withdrawal, or will Sherlock relapse, once and for all?

Days spent with Sherlock were usually filled with murder cases, adrenaline rushing deductions and having to listen to muttered sarcastic comments, but today had been a slow one in comparison. He had spent the entire morning and afternoon staring at his phone, as if hoping he would receive a panicked phone call from Gregson informing him that his services were required. He finally caved and phoned the Captain himself after Joan had demanded that he did so, as his staring and silence was even more annoying than his sarcastic commentary and talkative nature.

"I hate the holiday season." Sherlock had muttered as he came off the phone. He had been told to take the week off, since it was after all, two days before Christmas. "People still die even if it's Christmas. Arguments over the turkey could lead to stabbings with a carving knife. Bet he'll want my help then."

She had rolled her eyes, contenting herself with settling in an armchair, watching his furious pacing, his glare every time a Christmas song blared from yet another advert, advertising Christmas trees for half price.

"You really need to get a tree in this place," She mused, eyes glancing thoughtfully at the open space, noticeably empty of decorations, or any sign of the impending celebration.

"Oh yes, let's have a tree in the middle of the living room." He muttered, turning round to face her with a scowl. "Does no-one realize just how ridiculous that is? What's next, we invite the squirrels who used to inhabit it for Christmas tea?" He was now blocking the TV, when the movie she had been watching, Miracle on 34th Street, came back on. He would pout and claim it hadn't been intentional, but they both know he enjoyed winding her up far too much for that to be true.

"Go be Scrooge somewhere else, some of us want to watch this." She batted a hand at him, signalling for him to move, and it was with extreme dragging of heels and mumbled comments about, "You know, this is technically my house." She threw a pillow at him, and she couldn't help a smile at the sound of his good-natured chuckling as he left the room.

The film only had half an hour left, and as the closing credits came on, she stretched a little, cramped from sitting curled in the armchair for a couple of hours. She flipped channels, searching for something for her and Sherlock to watch. She was trying to convince him to give Grey's Anatomy a go, since it was a classic, and he might learn something about medicine practice something that could potentially come in handy in the future. He had laughed for a full hour, loud, ear-shattering rumbles of laughter that had been too contagious not to crack and break into a grin, at the idea of him learning anything.

She paused as she flicked past a news channel, stopping on it for a second. A mugshot of a man, relatively young and broad, had appeared on the screen, with the caption underneath screaming, "Abused, deranged child kidnapper escapes high security jail." She had to give it to them, they certainly knew how to grab someone's attention. The scene went from an empty cell to a studio, where they were discussing if the teen was simply insane from his life experiences, or a hardened killer. It wasn't until they spoke his name when she remembered exactly why she recognized the man.

Adam Kemper.

She stared at the screen, even after the segment had ended and moved onto the weather. She remembered the case well, remembered the furtive, cunning look in Adam's eyes. Sherlock had casually mentioned their conversation in the park in passing, clearly unperturbed by the fact that Adam seemed to be harboring a strong grudge against him. Even still, he would probably be unbothered, waving a hand and saying that the police would get him eventually. But she had to tell him, had to warn him in the worryingly high possibility that Adam would try something against him.

She knew Sherlock would be around the flat somewhere, hopefully not in the shower reviewing cases again. The Captain was becoming increasingly frustrated that his files were returned soaking wet and illegible. Thankfully she was saved her sanity, and he was lying fully-clothed on the kitchen table, scanning a file. He barely glanced up at her as she entered, a brief nod the only indication he was aware of her presence. As she set about making them coffee, she decided to come straight out with it. "Adam escaped from jail."

His eyes flitted up carelessly towards her, before returning to the scraps of paper. "Its surprisingly easy to do so actually." He murmured thoughtfully. "During preliminary medical examinations, claim to be diabetic, receive insulin in a needle and bam. Weapon." His eyes never left the papers as he spoke, clearly not processing what he was saying, consumed with the details of a new potential case.

"You aren't worried?" Joan asked, stirring sugar into one of the mugs, purposefully not in his. Sleep-deprived Sherlock was bad enough. Caffeine and sugar high Sherlock? Even Mother Theresa would lose her patience.

"Why would I be?"

"After what he said to you at the park?"

This made him frown, finally setting the papers aside and accepting the mug with a grateful nod. As he sipped, his free hand traced one of the tattoos on his wrist, something she noted when she first met him that he seemed to do if he was in deep thought about something. "I'm sure he has higher priorities than trying to do something to me." He said finally, setting the barely touched coffee on the table, before pushing himself off and sauntering into the living room as his phone rang. His eyes lit up at the caller ID, and grinned broadly at Joan.

"Captain Gregson. What can I do for you?" He answered, leaning upwards onto his toes before back onto his heels, excitement raging through him. Joan joined him in the living room, pulling on a jacket as she saw him do the same, hurriedly pulling on his shoes. He stopped for a second, lips parting a little. Something that resembled worry passed in his eyes as he glanced at Joan, before saying, "Yes, I understand the risks, but if it helps in his recapture then it's not an issue then, is it?"

Gregson was clearly arguing with him about it on the other end, but Sherlock turned, cradling the phone in a way that no sound could be heard on Joan's part. She made a face to his back, waiting for him to finish the phone call so she could interrogate him. "It's not as if I'll actually be talking to him, plus, you should have a little faith in the skills of your police force. I don't, but if it makes you feel better, you should." He ended the phone call and pocketed his phone, pointblank ignoring the fact she was shaking her head.

"What's the case?" She asked cautiously, noticing his prior excitement had ebbed to a furrowed brow and blank gaze as he stared into space, clearly thinking deeply about something. He blinked and glanced carelessly in her direction as he walked towards the door, motioning for her to follow.

"We've been asked to assist in investigating the location of one Adam Kemper." He murmured, smiling lightly at her as he opened the door and bound into the semi-darkness. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, mouth falling, but he was striding forward without a care in the world, so swiftly that she had to run to catch up with him.