Chapter Four: Reasoning

I spent the next few days at home, catching up on cleaning and homework here and there. Arthur, for those couple of days, spent it at my feet whether I was sitting, laying down or walking. The latter of which, I wished he hadn't for I ended up tripping on him once and bruising my rib quite bad on the corner of the kitchen counter.

On Tuesday afternoon, after I had been at work for not even an hour, I was surprised when a police car with lights flashing stopped in front of the shop. Lestrade got out as a cab that parked behind them revealed Sherlock who walked inside and right up to the counter, ignoring the four others in line.

"Don't you ever check your phone?" He said as he looked down at me, hands in the pockets of his long coat, scarf once more in place. He sounded rather annoyed.

"If you haven't noticed… Im at work." I jerked my head towards the customers and he glanced at them before turning back to me.

"I've texted you three times."

"I'm at work, Sherlock!"

"Well that's hardly an excuse for ignoring my texts. Especially when they are of great importance." He sighed, appearing frustrated with me!

My boss, Holly, walked over just about the time Lestrade walked in. "What's going on here, Zoey? Why are the police here?"

"I honestly have no idea." I looked at Lestrade who held up his badge for Holly.

"Sorry for the interruption, but we need to speak with your employee for a while. She needs to come with us."

"Has she done something wrong? Is everything alright?" She wiped her hands on her apron and looked at me rather concerned.

Sherlock ignored her and stared directly at me. "There's another body. I need you with me. John is at work so he's unavailable. Anderson refuses to work with me..." I was already taking off my own apron and hopping over the counter before he finished that sentence.

"Sorry, Hol, but I REALLY need to go with them!" I said as i followed Sherlock out the door. Lestrade stayed behind for a while, no doubt to explain things to Holly, as the cab I was in with Sherlock started off. "You have a lot of explaining to do if you have to resort to kidnapping me from work."

"I told you I texted." Sherlock huffed as he looked out his window. "And I also told you that they found another body. Which is why you're here. You came of your own free will. The Modus Operandi is different for the most part but its definitely connected."

"How?" I was almost afraid to ask. I knew he was saying another child was dead but at the same time, he was saying that cause of death was different. Granted, the M-O could be anything from body position to disposing the body but I had a feeling that the cause of death was what was different. I tried to prepare myself but I failed in my attempt.

This child was smaller than the last victim, i could tell that much from a distance, which immediately made my stomach twist into knots and set off warning signals. Anderson was standing over the body with his arms crossed, the remnants of a black eye still fairly prominent when he turned his head to face us.

"How old?" I whispered to Sherlock before I could see the body well enough.

"Tyler Morris. He's 6." Sherlock said emotionlessly as we walked around the tiny body. He didn't have any marks on his neck but he had the same pale sleeping face. I spotted freckles and knelt down to brush his hair from his face like I had Kirsten. His hair was soft and a dark chocolate brown with loose curls. But something wasn't right. His hair looked wet and matted near the back.

"Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the head." Anderson blurted out as I recognized that it was blood in his hair and that he had a gaping wound in his skull.

In in instant after those words had left his snide, irritating mouth I had thrown up on the crime scene. Anderson cursed and Lestrade shook his head as he walked up behind us.

"Are you sure she's needed, Holmes? She's just a kid." Lestrade said as he looked over at my companion and away from me as I coughed. I had managed not to contaminate too much of the surrounding area and had completely missed Tyler. I would have been offended by Lestrade calling me a kid, since I was 25, but given the age of my surrounding peers, I was a child.

"Of course she's needed!" He exclaimed as he spun and pointed to me, who was still crouched on the ground and wiping my mouth, feeling rather embarrassed but given the circumstances I doubt anyone would blame me. "She's giving me valuable information even now!"

"Like what? What she had for lunch?" Anderson scoffed, causing Sherlock to look him over.

"Tell me, Anderson, do you have any children?"

"No. But what does that-"

"Good. Now kindly shut up and stay out of my way. Im trying to find a killer." He spun around once again, hands to his chin as he thought.

"Now hold on a moment! What does me having kids have to do with this? And how did that girl give you information from vomiting?"

"If you had a child you wouldn't be here just bumbling around. You'd be seriously examining the crime scene or contemplating a occupation change. Miss McCarron here has proven that this death is more emotionally charged."

"By throwing up?"

"She has younger siblings the same age as the victims. Put yourself in her shoes and then her brothers in this boy's place. You'd be an emotional wreck too, I'd wager. And I believe that's what the killer is going for. He's trying to get inside our heads."

"What makes you say that?"

"He's testing you… seeing how fast you'll scurry… The more children involved and the more ways he can come up with to dispose of them… yes." He was mumbling to himself but in the meantime I had managed to get to my feet. "Zoey!" He suddenly honed in on me and pointed to the body. "What can you get out of this?"

"Im not a professional, Sherlock." I sighed, still feeling sick. Anderson gave a grunt of agreement and Sherlock shushed him.

"Maybe not a properly schooled professional but you have firsthand experience with this type of victim."

"Oh come on now!" Anderson threw his hands up. "You're going to listen to the babysitter? What could she possibly know?"

"I can tell that he had ice cream sometime before he was killed. There's still chocolate on his shirt and around his mouth. " I started simply, looking over little Tyler. I wouldn't give Anderson the satisfaction of putting me down. I pushed another wave of nausea back as I looked at the back of his head once more. "He was caught off guard by the hit to the head. Either that or he was already dead or unconscious."

"Why?" Sherlock asked, obviously prodding me.

"Because he has no signs of resistance. He didn't try to stop his fall forward by putting his arms out. Theres no sign he was even moving when he was hit. No marks on his hands or knees from momentum. If he had been running away there would be some sort of skid mark or something, surely."

"Anything else?" Sherlock asked slowly. He wanted me to say something; I tried to figure out what.

"He's like her. Like Kirsten… He's still wearing his clothes. He doesn't look touched."

"We did a check on Kirsten," Lestrade said. "The tests came up negative for any tearing or fluid. She was right. We'll have him checked too but if it's the same man he probably didn't do anything to this kid either." My stomach relaxed a little when Lestrade confirmed my hopeful guess.

"So she was right about one or two things." Anderson rolled his eyes. His voice was really starting to annoy me. "She's not a professional and shouldn't be here at my crime scene."

"Don't pull the alpha male 'this is my territory' crap, Anderson!" I stood up, officially pissed with this man. "A kid is dead! Somebody's child, their little boy, was murdered and you're throwing a pissy fit because I'm on the wrong side of the tape!" I turned and walked quickly away, ducking under the tape and leaving before I punched him again. I had a feeling that if I hit him this time, I wouldn't be able to stop at just once.

The crowd that had gathered to look, parted as I pushed my way through, trying not to cry again. I didn't know where in the city I was at the moment but I didn't rightly care. I just wanted away from Anderson and little Tyler, but for different reasons.

Sherlock, inevitably, caught up to me and grabbed my arm, spinning me around. "Don't leave yet. We're just getting started."

"I can't do this, Sherlock." I felt my throat tighten as I held back a sob. "These kids… I cant take much more."

"But you're helping. That's more than most people on this case can claim." He shrugged and glanced back at the flashing lights and the small crowd gathered around the blue tape.

"I know I might be helping but, I can't see any more kids like that. I can't handle it…" I wiped my eyes with my sleeve but ended up crying, keeping my arm over my eyes to try and hide it. "They're just kids… things like this shouldn't happen to them."

"Most things in life were never meant to happen. But the darker side of humanity infiltrates everyone's life in some way." I think Sherlock was trying to comfort me, but it wasn't working.

I slid down the wall of the nearest building and squatted down, hands over my face as I cried. "I just wanted to scoop him up and hug him… I just wanted to try and make him better."

"It would have been in vain." Sherlock stated bluntly, making me sob as I nodded.

"I can't do this… I can't see them like that. They're just kids…" I broke down; crying as hard as I could, head in my knees. "I just can't…"

I felt a presence close by and looked up, seeing Sherlock squatting in front of me, watching. "You can't let this get to you. I know you can do great things if you keep going."

"No you don't… I can't."

"You've already proven that you have a very observant and open mind. I know you've been through a lot already. A lot of bad things. Your parents got divorced when you were very young, which is why you tend to shy away from men your age. You don't want to get in too deep with them and then be hurt. I gathered that from when you denied sexual activity. But one of your parents remarried. Which explains the great age gap in your brothers from you. You love them so much and yet here you are, thousands of miles away from them. You can't always be there for them and you know that. So you're here, trying to play big sister to total strangers.

"You can't. You'll only go crazy each time you fail. It'll only hurt worse. You've survived so far. You're strong. You've grown stronger since I've met you. You're not really going to let all that go to waste are you?"

"Stop it." I smiled slightly and wiped my eyes.

"What?"

"Being nice. It's not like you. You're scaring me." I smiled a little wider as he stood up and held out his hand.

"Fine." He helped me up and put his hands back in his pockets. "I'm telling the truth though. You can't see everything so personal. You can't make the world the way you want it. You'll only go crazy if you try. Believe me. It doesn't work like that."

"I can't help it though. I see a little kid and I instantly think of Ian or Kayden. I miss them so much and so when I see them…"

Sherlock paused. "It makes you think of them… it makes an emotional connection…" He trailed off, becoming lost in thought. "That's it! These kids were taken not because someone wanted to take them, but because someone wanted to leave something else!"

"What? Sherlock, I'm not follow—"

"Oh, Zoey… you've just helped more than you know!" He suddenly grabbed my face and kissed my forehead before walking back towards the crime scene. "He's wanting to tamper with their minds! Their emotions! A child is half of the parent. So when the child dies…"

"You lose part of yourself." I finished, beginning to follow his thinking. "So… this person taking and killing the kids, all they're after…?"

"Is an emotional rift. He's attempting to destroy them in every way possible. Mentally, emotionally, invading every fiber of who they are."

"By killing children?" I was dumbfounded. This was almost like something out of some mystery novel. "This is unreal. What kind of sicko is that evil that he targets children?"

Sherlock clapped his hands together, squeezing his eyes shut as the gears turned wildly in his head. "I don't know, but I intend to find out. If this man keeps up at this rate, I'll need you to be emotional, Zoey. You're the strongest link."

"I started out as just a distraction and now I'm a link? I'm inexperienced, Sherlock! I have no idea what I'm doing!"

"Which is exactly what I need."

I stared at him in disbelief. He was getting excited about finding another body or about a child being stolen. He was wanting me to start taking things more personal when he just told me it would drive me crazy. He had just done a complete 180 and still wanted to drag me along for the ride.

"Sergeant Donovan was right…" I shook my head as I watched him, he had a gleam in his eyes and it scared me. "You are a psychopath…"

He spun around, pointing a finger at me suddenly, his face serious, almost mad. "I'm not a psychopath. I'm a high functioning sociopath."

"I don't care what you are! This isn't natural! You want another kid to die!"

"I want to find the murderer."

"By sacrificing peoples babies…" I locked eyes with him, my blue eyes stinging as I held back tears. "Sherlock… have you ever stopped to think this over? You're becoming like him."

"I'm not kidnapping and murdering children."

"But you want him to!" I shouted suddenly. "For what, Sherlock? For what? So you won't be bored? This isn't a game! There are real lives at stake!"

He looked at me for a moment. "You're the second person who's told me something like that."

"Yeah? And who was the first?"

"John."

"Well, then at least one of you has your head on your shoulders right." I turned and started walking in the direction I assumed my apartment was in. "You know, sometimes when more than one person tells you something, you should listen."