Flashback to first case with Lestrade:

"Lincoln, 38 years old, married his husband a few months before he started his business. Gun shot to the head, but there are some knife cuts on his arms, so the killer must have had did this for vengeance. Opposite party, perhaps? The anonymous man must have something to do with this." Lestrade said as he explained the case.

The DI looked around the crime scene as some other detectives 'looked around cluelessly', as Sherlock described, rolling his eyes at those amateurs. "Jesus, has it always been like this before I came along? Lestrade looking around with absolutely no clue at all while you other useless detectives follow around him like a puppy?"

Sherlock frowned in disappointment. "I cannot believe that it only took one case with you lot to realise how hopeless the human race is nowadays!" Sherlock sighed once more before swinging his arms into the air, going closer to the body to examine it.

One detective named Sally Donovan stomped towards Sherlock, wanting to give him a piece of their mind. Lestrade tried to calm her down, but he knew that once Sally set her mind to do something, she always gets it her way. The detective inspector speaks from experience. Sally shouted as she pointed at Sherlock. "Who do you think you are?! The British Government? You have no right to-"

"Ugh. Why do we people always like to bring my BROTHER into this?" Sherlock said, shaking his head as he sighed. "Petty little humans."

"What?" Sally frowned. "Ah, just great. The freak has got a brother now?" She muttered sarcastically.

"Mark Hilther." Sherlock mumbled to himself.

"What did you say, freak?" Sally walked closer to him, the feeling of punching Sherlock in his face rose up in her mind. Everyone knew that Sally had a hot temper.

"Mark Hilther, a complete idiot! Catch you later, amateurs!" Sherlock turned up his collar and ran away from the crime scene, a smirk on his face as he called a taxi. "What's the problem with him?" Another detective named Philip Anderson leaned closer to Donovan, a frown on his face.

"No idea." Sally said, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

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Sherlock ran through the streets, coat swinging in the cold breezy air, it wad dark outside but of course he didn't care- the only thing he cared about then, the only thing he cared about at that moment was to just solve the damn case. His body is just a transport to him, after all.

He ran and ran, until he finally reached his destination. "Ahh... You can stop running now, Mark Hilther. I know you killed Lincoln because he was about to quit his job in the organisation to reveal your naughty secret. You kill people in the government and bribe some of them just to get your way." Sherlock smirked. The man himself was standing there cornered, the man in-charge of the entire bloody organisation, the man responsible for the murder of Lincoln. And Sherlock Holmes had a gun pointed at his forehead.  "Okay, fine. You caught me. A true man admits their fault."

The sociopath let out a soft chuckle. Then came an unexpected roaring laughter. "No, no, no. It can't be so easy. HOW IS IT SO EASY?!" Sherlock shouted in frustration as he lowered the gun and threw it to the floor in disappointment. "I joined my brother's little 'police force' so that I can entertain myself... to get away from his rules and my EXTREMELY boring life... but YOU! You just had to ruin it, didn't you?" He said, holding him at his throat and chocking him.

"So this is what all of it is about?" Mark chuckled devilishly, talking in a sore voice. "Just so you can go away from your ordinary bloody life!?"

"But you wouldn't understand, would you? You have no idea how it is like to be, always high above foolish humans like you, always flying the plane, but could never land." Sherlock said, yelling at the poor man. "So here." Sherlock said, letting out one stern cough before handing Mark his gun. Mr Hilther stood there, confused. "Huh?"

"Didn't I make it extremely clear? Do I really have to spell out everything for you?" Sherlock sighed again. "I'm asking you to shoot me, Mr Murderer. In fact, I insist." Sherlock chuckled. "Do anything to end my boredom. To end this constant torture."

"Is this some type of reverse psychology?!" Mark looked in horror as he took a few steps back, laying his back against the hard wall.

"No, this is definitely not reverse psychology, I'm bloody serious about it."  Sherlock said, straightening his collar. "Just don't aim for the head, please, that's my final request." Mark looked around his surrounding, checking for police officers or maybe the SWAT team, but there were none.

"Come on, Mark. What are you waiting for? Here you go. An opportunity to get away with everything you've done up to this point, all wrapped up for you into a present box. So come on Mr Murderer, shoot me. SHOOT-" And just then, Hilther took the gun and pulled the trigger.
Blood started pouring out of the consulting detective's chest as Mark gasped.

Faint giggles escaped Sherlock's lips as he covered his hand on the bullet wound. He let out a sigh of relief. Mark looked at his bloody hands in horror and then at the giggling detective, who was half-dead. "You... you're a psychopath!" Hilther said.

"I-I'm not a psychopath..." Sherlock said with a sore voice. "I'm a sociopath... Do your research." And then everything around Sherlock faded to black as the last thing he heard was the footsteps of Mark Hilther getting softer and softer, until there was nothing but the darkness surrounding him.

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"OH MY GODD! Someone HELP! I need some help over here!" Sherlock blinked his eyes open and took in his surrounding. He was greeted awake by a loud yelling voice. A girl with straight blonde hair, which looked perfect with her brown hazel eyes.

"What...? Where am I?" Sherlock grunted as he looked around. He's not dead yet. He tried to climb up from the floor but the girl stopped him. "I'm calling an ambulance, just wait for a while more."

For the first time in his whole life, Sherlock was confused. Didn't Mark shoot him? How is he still alive? The questions made Sherlock's mind spin a little. "What? Who are you?"

"Anabelle." She said before sirens and ambulances approached them.