Past Demons

CHAPTER FOUR

'Miss Watson, thank you for coming in so early,' the nurse spoke with care. 'He's refusing his meds and keeps ripping out his lines.'

Joan rolled her eyes. 'For a drug addict he has a strange aversion to drugs.' She explained.

'These ones are purposely not addictive,' The nurse offered.

'I know,' Joan showed a strained smile. 'I can only say you'll get use to him, but let me try to talk to him,' she gave the nurse a reassuring pat on the arm.

Walking into the room she saw Sherlock was now sat up and all the machines were now switched off, probably due to him no longer being connected to them, by his own choice.

'Sherlock, it's me,' she announced, knowing his sight was still bad. 'Why are not taking your meds?'

'I don't need them, they are not pertinent to my recovery or my life, they are simply there to numb pain and I don't wish that, I want to feel the pain,' Sherlock declared.

'Are you crazy?' Joan asked, but her voice remained calm.

'I simply do not want to feel numb,' Sherlock explained, and he was displaying all his stubborn traits.

'Ok, but it's a pointless exercise and could jeopardise your recovery time,' she warned, now stood at the side of his bed. She took his hand into her own. 'Please, don't risk your recovery.'

To her surprise Sherlock stroked her hand very slightly in response to her hold. 'I need to do this, Watson,' he stated with no further comment.

'Do you think you'll be able to talk today, about what happened?' Joan asked, checking the time and seeing it was just past 8am.

'Maybe,' Sherlock considered after a moment.

'It would allow them to conclude the case faster,' Joan offered.

'Is there an officer on the door?' Sherlock then asked, possibly changing the topic.

Joan glanced over and saw the officer outside. 'Yes, why?'

'Why?'

'Yes, why do you ask?' Joan checked.

'No, why is there a cop on the door, who is he protecting me from? I thought you said everyone was in custody, who else do they fear?' Sherlock questioned.

'I'm not sure,' Joan hesitated, and was now confused as well. 'As far as I know the three we have in custody are the only ones involved, I've not heard of anyone else being remotely involved,' Joan looked at the officer, he was far enough away to not overhear their discussion. 'I'll check with Gregson, just in case something has changed,' she stated and sent a quick text to the Captain.

The nurse came into the room and glanced at Joan who indicated she hadn't persuaded Sherlock to take his meds. 'Mr Holmes, we need to send you to have a scan, so they can check how well the operation went yesterday and ensure nothing was missed,' the nurse explained. 'We will have an orderly in here shortly to take you.' Sherlock nodded his head to indicate he understood. 'I, erm, think he can manage a wheel chair, save taking you on the bed.'

'Are you sure?' Joan checked.

'Yeah, he's doing well,' The nurse replied and quickly left the room.

'Seems a bit soon to use a chair, you'd need help transferring to it,' Joan considered.

'Something wasn't right with her voice, she's nervous,' Sherlock observed. He was about to continue when an orderly walked into the room with a chair, and declared his reason for being there.

Joan noticed the officer had stepped inside the room, and recognised him as one of Gregson's team, calming her down slightly, as she approached him. 'Would you mind escorting us?' Joan asked, picking up on Sherlock's observations about the nurse. He was right, something wasn't right, the nurse was sounding nervous.

The orderly however was very breezy and upbeat, dismissing in some parts the concerns as he seemed to have no questions about moving Sherlock. He lowered the bed, and with precision and skill expertly moved Sherlock with very little trouble into the chair, taking his weight and being careful not to cause him additional pain. Sherlock couldn't hide his surprised at the skill shown, and Joan could see him relax a little. In truth it was encouraging to see him sat upright again. It hadn't been a long time by any standards, but it had been long enough to take heart in seeing him already on the mend.

'Your injuries are more surface and superficial, I read your file, don't worry, I wouldn't use a chair if I didn't think you were ok,' the orderly explained to Sherlock, as if reading both their minds.

'That's quite impressive,' Joan had to admit, as she began to follow them out of the room.

They hadn't gone more than ten metres before the cop stepped forward. 'I'll take it from here,' the cop stated, and without any argument the orderly simply changed direction and disappeared down a busy corridor.

'Excuse me, what's going on?' Joan asked.

'You keep walking normally and your friend won't get hurt,' the cop indicated to the knife now located directly behind Sherlock's neck, obscured from everybody's view bar Joans. 'You do anything, lady, and I won't hesitate.'

Joan didn't want to call his bluff, whatever this was she was by Sherlock's side this time, as she left the hospital building with the cop and Sherlock.

'I don't believe it!' Marcus Bell exclaimed as he jumped out of his chair and raced to the Captain's office, not waiting to be told to enter as he opened the door. 'Sir, Larry has escaped again!'

'What? How did we get caught out a second time?' Gregson's voice was raised, and he was immediately on his feet and heading to the door. 'What happened?' he asked as he walked with Marcus towards the elevators.

'Same as before apparently, we tried to make it less of a show, unmarked car, kept things quiet, no published routes,' Marcus read out loud from a sheet he was carrying. 'But the two man team escorting him was still jumped, and Larry escaped,' Marcus explained. 'Sir, it makes no sense, something is not right here, only the two men with him would have known Larry was in that car.'

'Making them prime suspects, where are they now?' Gregson asked.

'Unknown, it's been over three hours so we can assume that wherever Larry is, so are they,' Marcus frowned. 'It seems this either goes a lot deeper than we care to admit or he has two new hostages.'

'Do we have a unit at the hospital, I don't want him going after Sherlock again,' Gregson questioned.

'We don't have any men there, but we will in a few minutes,' Marcus confirmed, and started to make a call.

Gregson looked at his phone and saw the text from Watson that he had missed earlier. 'Joan was asking about an officer guarding Sherlock's room,' Gregson informed Marcus. 'She was asking why, I missed this earlier, she sent it an hour ago when I was in a meeting,' he added.

'There were no units assigned to the hospital,' Marcus confirmed.

Gregson pressed a direct dial button and put the phone to his ear, he waited for a response and his concern grew, as the phone went unanswered. 'Something is wrong,' Gregson stated. 'We're five steps behind again,' he stressed. 'Get a couple of units to the hospital I want confirmation that Sherlock and Watson are ok.'

Marcus made the call as Gregson tried to think, waiting for the elevator he stepped in on its arrival. Once Marcus had finished his call Gregson faced him. 'This is looking more and more like an insider job, we have to assume one or more of our team are somehow assisting Larry, for whatever reason,' he said, with a hushed voice. He hated thinking it, but he was being left with little doubt. 'I need you to stay here and check the activity and background of all the men who have worked this case so far, look particularly for those in direct contact with Larry at any time, those who have done anything that makes them stand out for any reason,' Gregson ordered. The elevator doors opened, and Gregson stepped out. 'Be discreet, and be careful,' he added as the doors closed sending Marcus back up to the office.

Gregson hurried to his vehicle intending to visit the hospital himself.

Sherlock grimaced as he was roughly dragged out of the van, and he had no idea where he was with his sight still blurred. They had taken Joan inside already and as he was dragged into the building he could hear her demanding to know where he was. The sounds of a door being hit indicated that she was locked in a room.

'Go shut that woman up,' a voice ordered, and Sherlock momentarily froze on recognising it to be Larry.

'How did you escape again?' Sherlock calmly asked, attempting to hide his initial reaction.

'I have friends, just like you,' Larry answered with no further comment.

'Don't hurt Watson,' Sherlock warned.

'I have no intentions of doing so, Holmes,' Larry returned. 'But I will if you do not cooperate,' he added with a sneer.

Sherlock could hear more footsteps approaching.

'Sherlock!' Joan spoke on arriving in the room.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, he needed to compose himself, be ready for whatever was coming. Realising the situation, he opened his eyes again – for the good it did, as his sight was still absent. 'I'm ok,' he finally spoke up to reassure her.

Larry took hold of Sherlock and guided him to a chair, encouraging him to sit down. So many pains were shooting through his body at that moment, but Sherlock hid them well.

'You look well,' Larry spoke, and Sherlock imagined he was surveying him. 'My former colleague's actions were not my intentions, but they did a good job on you,' he added, and Sherlock felt a hand on his chin as Larry further examined, before Sherlock shook his hold off with a shake of his head.

'How is the head?' Sherlock then asked with a smirk, and he could almost feel the glare he figured Watson was throwing him at that moment.

In seconds there were fingers pressing against his neck, but only a little bit of pressure was being applied. 'Don't push me, boy, you know better than that.'

'Boy?' Sherlock choked in confusion, it had been a long time since anyone had referred to him in that way. 'You can't be that much older than me, surely?'

'Three years in fact,' Larry let go, and walked away again.

Sherlock could hear Watson struggling against the man holding her, and he wanted to tell her to just relax, he knew so long as he played along she wouldn't get hurt and he hoped the NYPD would be arriving before he couldn't do anything more to protect her.

His arms were then moved to behind the back of the chair and cable ties were once against applied to secure his hands. They rubbed the barely healed wounds from the last time, and Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath as they were tightened.

'Why are you doing this? Why risk your freedom again by taking him?' Watson pleaded, to the annoyance of Sherlock who wanted to be the one who talked to the psycho.

'This man,' Larry began, and Sherlock could only make out a blurred shape in front of him. 'Ruined my life, it's payback time,' he stressed. 'Once I'm done with him, I'll be able to move on finally.'

'He caught you fair and square, it was one incident,' Watson stressed. 'You were going to get caught eventually, why are you taking this so personally?'

Larry began to laugh loudly. 'My dear, my first arrest only alerted me to the continued existence of this man, but that isn't my reason for doing this, the true reason is far greater,' Larry stated. 'He got lucky; but that luck has run out.'

'So, what is your reason?' Sherlock asked tiredly. 'You've escaped twice, you have my attention.'

Sherlock heard a table being pulled along the floor, and sensed it was being placed in front of him, he then heard what sounded like a file of paper being dropped on it. 'I need to you help me solve a case.'

'A case?' Sherlock checked confused.

'I can't think of a better man for the job,' Larry answered. 'It's what you do, right? Solve the unsolvable?' It sounded like he was mocking him, Sherlock considered. 'I never got the chance to ask you before, after you took matters into your own hands, or should I say feet?' Larry finished.

'Are you forgetting something?' Sherlock offered. 'You blinded me. If that's a file in front of me it's pretty much useless to me like this.'

'Ah, so I did, it wasn't supposed to be for so long, which is your own fault,' Larry voice sounded joyful. 'I just wanted your full attention, clearly I didn't have it before but now I do.' Sherlock felt his head being roughly pulled back, Larry hand covered his forehead, and he was now stood behind him. 'Open your eyes wide,' Larry ordered with a calm air.

Sherlock didn't feel like he had a choice, and did as instructed, a series of painful drops landed in each eye on turn. Sherlock tried to turn away from them, and he heard Joan speak up with concern, but Larry forced his head to remain in position as more painful drops were applied.

'That should do it,' Larry confirmed. 'Blink your eyes, the pain will subside in time,' he added.

Sherlock was already blinking his eyes, to try and ease the discomfort he felt. A few moments later when he could finally open his eyes, he found they were responding, he could see again, even though his eyes felt like they were on fire.

'Is that better?' Larry asked, now stood the other side of the table. Sherlock looked in front of him and stared at the file on the table, with each second his focus became sharper. Larry took this as a cue and opened the file, placing six pieces of paper in front of the consulting detective. 'Let's get to work, read these, and then tell me if boy A is guilty. It's really that simple.'

Sherlock glanced at all the papers, each paper had a heading, starting with Boy B, C and D, then there was teacher A and teacher B, and finally Boy A. He began to read the papers in turn and a sinking feeling developed in the pit of his stomach as he read each account with care, these were statements, an internal investigation that took place at a school several years ago. He knew this case, he knew it very well and he was slowly working out that one factor that had been alluding him to this point.

After some time has passed, Sherlock sat back, but didn't speak. 'So, is boy A guilty?' Larry asked finally on seeing no response from Sherlock.

'Yes,' Sherlock answered with no further comment.

'Are you sure?' Larry pushed. 'You've read every statement, and that's your conclusion?'

'Boy A pushed Boy B down the stairs, Boy A was clearly a bully,' Sherlock answered, Larry slammed his hand down on the desk clearly not happy with Sherlock's conclusion, making everyone jump including Joan who looked nervous, at the new tension between them both.

'Maybe Joan would care to look, maybe she will think differently?' Larry voice sounded low and threatening, and he gestured to her to step forward.

Sherlock could see that Watson was unsure about getting involved, and he gave her no sign as to what to do, so she took the time to read each statement in turn. Once she stepped back Larry asked her the same question.

'I don't know what happened to Boy B but I would say Boy A is not guilty,' Watson responded.

'Your own partner disagrees with you, Holmes,' Larry pointed out. 'Where does this leave me?'

'Boy A was a trouble maker, and he had a dangerous grudge against Boy B,' Sherlock argued.

'I don't see that from these papers, Sherlock,' Watson puzzled, gesturing to the papers.

'Boy B accused Boy A of pushing him down the stairs,' Larry spoke directly at Sherlock. 'By his own account, Boy B says he was pushed forward and his injuries also suggest he landed face first, at no time would Boy B ever know who or what pushed him down those stairs, no one could know.'

'It's possible to catch a glimpse in the momentum of falling,' Sherlock returned.

'Teacher A states that Boy A was in his class right until the end of that period extended by five minutes for bad behaviour,' Larry argued. 'Boy B's accident was partially seen by Boy C, and he was adamant it occurred two minutes before that class were relieved at 3.47pm, and that class had been held back because Boy A has disrupted it, and they were all held back for five minutes,' Larry continued. 'Boy B's accident happened the other side of the school to where Boy A was seen by several witnesses at the time. Boy B was also knocked out by the fall, his account cannot be treated as fact by any stretched of the imagination. Tell me again how Boy A is guilty.'

'The claim on the time could never be that accurate, and it was dismissed, as stated in the notes in the paragraph because that Boy C was a known good friend of Boy A,' Sherlock gestured with his eyes to the notes, as his hands were still tied.

'Sherlock,' Watson spoke up. 'I'm not sure I'm seeing what you are seeing here, Boy A is not a suspect, all statements confirm he was not even near to where Boy B fell. If I was to guess I would say Boy B purposely or accidently fell down the stairs, and then accused a known bully of the act,' she argued.

'Bingo,' Larry declared with delight clear in his voice.

'Boy B was pushed,' Sherlock insisted, but it was obvious the conviction in his voice was waning.

'You keep telling yourself that, Holmes,' Larry goaded. 'Boy B suffered four broken ribs, a broken wrist, dislocated shoulder and a head trauma,' Larry re-read the details out loud. 'It certainly wasn't pretty, and the school management had to find a culprit to take the blame for poor little boy B's very rich and influential father, so they found Boy A, and why was that Holmes?'

'The culprit was Boy A because it was Boy A who inflicted those injuries, justice was served,' Sherlock remained defiant.

'Every statement, each one that isn't Boy B's statement confirms that Boy A was not capable of doing what he was accused of, every single one has Boy A placed in Classroom 2B at the time of the incident,' Larry stressed. 'But somehow Boy A was expelled, he was the one taken to a school for delinquents, pretty much set on a path of petty crime before graduating to full time criminal on the run.'

'That makes no sense, how did that happen?' Watson questioned, looking at the files again. 'Why was the word of Boy B taken over all these other statements? Hang on, there's no mention of what happened to the two boys in these files, how do you know all this?'

'Why don't you ask Boy B, he's sat right there,' Larry responded, clearly pleased with himself and the reveal on seeing Watson's stunned expression.

Watson turned to Sherlock who remained stony faced at the revelation. 'Sherlock is this true, are you Boy B?' she checked not quite believing it, she then turned to Larry slowly. 'And you're Boy A.'

'You're a much better detective than he is, Miss,' Larry complimented.

'You pushed me down the stairs,' Sherlock insisted.

'I can promise you I did not,' Larry stressed.

'You needed to be stopped, you were out of control,' Sherlock said with conviction.

Larry couldn't hide his reaction. 'I was out of control? I was not a kid willing to throw myself down a flight of stairs to make a point! Ok, I admit I threw my weight around, I acted up and I disrupted classes, but I was three years ahead of you Holmes, I wasn't even in your classes so why did I bother you so much?'

Sherlock now smirked. 'You couldn't leave me alone, always in my face, pushing me to the ground, punching and kicking me at every opportunity, forcing me to do your homework, to come up with plans, and claiming to be my friend,' Sherlock's voice was starting to convey an inner anger he felt at the memories coming back to him.

'It was harmless fun, Holmes,' Larry threw back innocently. 'And let's face it, I was the only friend you had in that place.'

'Harmless fun? For you maybe,' Sherlock simply said and closed his eyes, saying no more.

'So, let's understand what is being said here. You ruined my life because I was a little rough with you as a kid?' Larry spoke calmly, but then leaning forward against the table, close to where Sherlock was sat. 'I never went to a normal school again! I had to go to schools where being punched and kicked regularly was the highlights,' he raged. 'I was returned to my parents in America in disgrace, and they sent me to boot camp, do you even know what hell that is when they think you're a trouble maker from the start?'

Sherlock glanced up at Watson who seemed at odds with what she was hearing, and it was clear to him that she was swaying on the side of Larry. 'It wasn't just a little rough though was it?' Sherlock sneered. 'And correct me if I'm wrong but you don't get those sorts of injuries from just falling down one flight of carpeted stairs, do you? Or have you forgotten the actual truth about what happened that day, just a little earlier?'

'I'm only talking about these bits of paper, these papers that got me expelled even though nothing in them showed any concrete proof about me ever being near you on those stairs,' Larry stressed.

'My father got involved,' Sherlock offered, his head low. 'I couldn't control him back then, I barely have control of him even now,' he added.

'Oh yes, the great Holmes mafia,' Larry spoke up with disgust. 'There are only these witness statements because Mycroft had words with all the other potential witnesses, correct?' Larry recounted. 'And then these files became classified, with orders never to be opened again, tell me how that could happen for such a small school incident?'

'How did you get them?' Sherlock asked.

'I'm the criminal remember, I know how to do my job, unlike some charlatans,' Larry stated with anger. 'Just say it, just say you made it up, give me that at least because you've taken everything else from me.'

Sherlock stared at Larry, noticing for the first time the grown-up features of his one-time school bully. 'Anders Larson,' Sherlock said instead, sneering the name as he spoke. 'That's your actual name, why didn't I realise that sooner?' Sherlock was angry at his own incompetence, Andrew Larry was hardly a million miles from it.

Larry simply scoffed at the obvious snub to his request. 'You know what, we are done talking and I gave you a chance,' he offered, almost apologetically. 'All you had to do was admit you lied, admit that you framed me.'

'Deny it all you want but you were out of control, you would have ended up killing someone at that school, I saved you from much worse,' Sherlock insisted, and then noticed for the first time the two traitorous cops stood nearby. 'And you decide its ok to ruin these two men's lives in this process?' Sherlock questioned and looked at them both in turn. 'Now you know the truth, do you think you've made the right decision?'

They both stood uneasy, glancing at each other and then to Sherlock.

'I thought so,' Sherlock frowned.

'They wanted to see me bring you down, we all want the same thing!' Larry stated loudly, and then turned to the cop closest to Joan. 'Take her to the other room for a bit, I have business with Holmes, unfinished business.' Without argument the cop grabbed Joan, despite her struggling, and escorted her to the next room. 'I have waited a very long time for this, Holmes.'

Gregson hurried past the unit of men stood immediately outside the hospital and headed straight to Sherlock's room. He'd already been told that both Sherlock and Watson were now missing, and he was angry at the fact Larry had taken them both with such ease, again.

'Right from underneath our noses!' Gregson fumed to the men who were searching for any clues in the room. 'Do we have any CCTV?' he then questions, and an officer gestured to the small room further down the corridor.

Gregson reached the room and knocked once before entering, already he could see the footage being screened by two other officers. 'What do we have?'

'Seems Simmonds was unofficially guarding Sherlock's room, and this man then comes into the room and without missing a beat just moves Sherlock into the chair and they leave. Watson speaks to Simmonds, feels like she suspected something, and they head into the corridor. Close to the exit the orderly simply leaves without word, Simmonds takes over and they just leave the premises,' the young officer explained quickly.

'Do we know who the orderly is?' Gregson asked.

'He's being picked up now, and taken to the precinct,' the officer answered.

'Simmonds has always been one of the good ones, this makes no sense,' Gregson considered out loud before making his excuses and leaving the room. He checked his phone and saw no messages from anyone he wanted to hear from, Marcus, Watson or Holmes. With a loud sigh he headed back outside, seeing everything was in hand. He needed to confer with Bell, they needed a breakthrough.

Sherlock remained silent as Larry playfully ran a knife over his chest, he had already made several incisions, all were still bleeding, stinging, but they were only superficial.

'I can't turn back time,' Sherlock finally spoke to break the uneasy silence.

'I realise that,' Larry answered, and Sherlock took a quick intake of breath as another incision was made near his collarbone.

'Your accusing me of ruining one life, but as far as I can tell you've already ruined three lives to reach this point,' Sherlock considered, the small cuts were not painful in themselves but as a collective they were starting to become really uncomfortable.

'Do explain,' Larry requested with little interest.

'Well you're ruining your own life, at the moment, but you've also ruined Jimmy and Vinnies lives, they are guaranteed to get time for GBH at least,' Sherlock recounted. 'And what about those two cops you've dragged into proceedings, that's another two lives. So in total that's five lives against my supposed one,' Sherlock offered.

'There's no suppose about it,' Larry reiterated, ignoring the accusations Sherlock was making.

'You know you beat me bad that day,' Sherlock returned strongly. 'Those injuries I went to hospital with, you inflicted them so why does it matter exactly how you got caught, you deserved to be caught!' he stated with conviction.

Larry looked at Sherlock. 'So, are you admitting you lied?'

'I didn't lie, you inflicted those injuries, and that's what I told the teacher,' Sherlock countered. 'You broke my wrist, meaning I couldn't actually write my statement, that's not my handwriting on the statement. My form tutor wrote that based on what he had heard me say, he claimed I said you pushed me down the stairs, that's not my fault he made leaps in my spoken account,' Sherlock revealed.

'Why then didn't you speak up, why didn't you tell those people you had been misquoted?' Larry asked.

'You don't get it do you?' Sherlock spoke with confusion clear in his voice. 'You were the one who hurt me, even if they had written down that version the outcome would have been the same!'

Larry considered his words and put the knife to Sherlock's shoulder, the tip pointed directly at his skin. 'Why didn't you tell your father to back off, why didn't you help me? I was your friend, remember?'

Sherlock smirked and shook his head. 'Unbelievable,' he simply remarked. 'You do know why I fell down those stairs? Because I had just been beaten so badly, by you, my 'friend'!' Sherlock stressed. 'I was trying to act as if nothing happened, I was doing that to protect you!' Sherlock said with confusion clear in his voice. 'But when I reached those stairs I passed out, I fell unconscious because of the injuries you inflicted on me, that's why I fell,' Sherlock explained. 'So, by default I didn't lie, you were the reason I fell down the stairs.'

Larry pressed the knife down, breaking the skin and Sherlock grimaced as the pain shot through his shoulder as the knife slowly entered. 'I was just a kid,' Sherlock stressed feeling helpless against the attack, the pain was triggering long forgotten painful memories of his treatment at the hands of Anders Larson. 'The only person who terrified me more than you, Anders, was my father, and like you, he wouldn't have listened to anything I said about anything,' Sherlock paused with the pain. 'I was nothing more than a punch bag in both your eyes at that age.'

'I have hated you for so long, that pathetic weak little boy who I despised, you thought you were so much better than everyone,' Larry offered, his voice calmer and quieter now. 'All I've ever wanted is for you to admit you lied, and that's why my life has been so messed up.' Sherlock closed his eyes as the pain escalated in his shoulder, the tip of the knife was now embedded. 'And you can't even give me that one small thing I ask, and you can't admit you lied.' With a sudden movement, Larry slashed the knife swiftly and Sherlock could only scream out in pain, the one was going to leave a mark he realised as he felt warm liquid swiftly running down his chest.

Larry wiped his knife with care and placed it back into his bag that was situated at the back of the room. He then removed a box and once Sherlock had regained his senses he realised what Larry was preparing, another hit, smelling the burning of the substance as it turned to liquid.

'Don't do this,' Sherlock pleaded, feeling his body shake involuntarily. His body was already reacting to the potential next hit, he felt the pangs of need and he hated himself for feeling that way. All he now wanted was the heroin, to escape this reality, and he was growing expectant of the hit he was about to enjoy at any moment. He stared at Larry, suddenly becoming fearful, realising that the best torture Larry could inflect right now would be to deny him at the last second. To Sherlock's relief Larry clearly had no intentions of doing that, as the fresh syringe was now prepared, and a belt was being tied around Sherlock's bicep.

'You need a little something to take that pain away,' Larry informed him. 'I need to eat and consider my next move, in light of our discussions.'

Sherlock let his head fall back as the liquid was injected, the immediate rush was unlike any other feeling in the world. Sherlock stopped fighting as he allowed himself to escape once more. All the nightmares of his childhood melted away and Sherlock embraced the escape, almost wishing it could last forever, it was never a place he'd ever wanted to revisit.

'Anything?' Gregson asked on seeing Marcus at his desk.

'We already know Simmonds is one of the cops that has been helping Larry,' Marcus began. 'So, I've done a background check on activity that Simmonds has recently conducted on our computers and get this,' Marcus gestured to the screen for Gregson to observe. 'He done several searches on the name Anders Larson, who in turn I strongly suspect to be the person we've come to know as Andrew Larry,' Marcus stated.

Gregson focused on the screen Marcus was showing him. 'Anders Larson, his parents were English, they moved to America before he was born, but then sent their child to boarding school in England to get the same education as the father. However, he was expelled for pushing another kid down the stairs and causing injuries that hospitalised the kid,' Gregson moved back. 'Wow, so he was a psycho as a kid, no wonder he changed his name.'

'There's more,' Marcus revealed. 'The kid he almost killed?'

'Go on,' Gregson pushed.

'None other than our own Sherlock Holmes.'

'You are kidding me,' Gregson further read the monitor for the details. 'Sherlock was only twelve years old, Larry was fifteen, a classic bully.'

'That's a lot for a kid of twelve to have to deal with,' Marcus suggested. 'The injuries were intense.'

'So, a young Holmes was nearly killed by this guy and that guy was rightly punished by being expelled. So now some thirty years or so later he's getting payback on the guy he's already nearly killed?'

'It's the only solid motive we've found so far,' Marcus frowned.

'So, when he first heard Sherlock was on this case, that's why he got the unhealthy obsession with him,' Gregson figured. 'It's not a common name, so figures it would get a reaction.'

'Unfinished business maybe?' Marcus agreed.

'How did he dupe our guys into helping him?' Gregson then considered.

'We know there's been an underlying problem with Sherlock's popularity rating with some of the guys,' Marcus ventured. 'Larry must have told them the sob story version, Simmonds checked it out on our computers, and saw it was true.'

'Where did he find this information?' Gregson checked. 'I'm pretty sure school business is not usually found on police files, it said no complaint was made,' he checked.

'It was anomalously uploaded to a website, just days after the old school was raided, which does have a UK police report filed,' Marcus revealed. 'It said nothing of note was taken but the old archive at the school was ransacked, but no one was able to confirm what had been taken as they dated back so far.'

'I think we've solved that crime,' Gregson sighed. 'Send a note to the UK, let them know our suspicions,' he tiredly ordered as he rubbed his face. 'We're still no closer to tracking them down, and Sherlock was already in a bad way,' he feared.

'I still have stuff to follow up from Simmonds activity, and I'm close to identifying the other officer involved,' Marcus stated strongly. 'I'm confident I will find something that will help, just leave it with me.'

Gregson nodded his head with approval and returned to his office, he needed time to think things over and hope the breakthrough was imminent.

To be continued…