Chapter Four
London England
1:30 P.M
July 13th 2014
"Victim number twelve is Harold Star," JJ informed Reid and grabbed her shoulder.
"Does it still hurt?" Reid gasped and felt the muscles around it, feeling rather concerned.
"It's fine Reid," JJ sighed and attempted to push him away.
"No JJ," he scolded, "you dislocated your shoulder two months ago, this feels recent."
"I don't know what to tell you," she hissed, surprising her best friend in the world.
"Will's been drinking again," Reid stated and rubbed the bruises on her neck.
"Can we not do this here," JJ pleaded and turned away from him. "Who is the dirty blonde victim," she called out to Morgan.
"Jeremy North," Derek replied and glanced towards his student ID card. "He came here on a Senior trip, his friend said he went into the bathroom and never came out."
"Teacher said he was notorious for trouble," Emily added and snapped a photo. "They said he'd follow any girl who looked his way. He was only seventeen."
"Has anyone called his parents?" Hotch asked in his usual tone.
"I haven't had the heart," Garcia shook, "he's just, three years younger than Tony?"
"Yeah," she shook, "that too."
"What's his story?" Rosse shouted from across the park.
"He had a wife and a four year old daughter," JJ explained, "he told his daughter he had to work late."
"He had a daughter and abandoned her for a woman who would murder him," Watson sighed sadly. "What's his name?"
"Leon Carson," Greg replied and glanced towards his widow. "She's going to be raising her daughter all alone now. I can't imagine," he frowned and walked past Watson, without giving it a second thought.
"How old are the rest?" Hotch asked and knelt down beside Sherlock.
"Between twenty two and twenty five," the detective said and grazed the dirty blonde hair with his finger. "I think Jeremy was a victim of circumstance, wrong place, wrong time, but fit the physical characteristics, so she decided why not?"
"We'll need to get a hold of his parents," Hotch took in a deep breath and looked towards Morgan. "Garcia can't, you'll to."
"Alright Hotch," Derek rubbed the head and closed his eyes. "Please tell me, if she find this psychopath, we can send her to America and send electricity through her evil skull."
"I wish we could," Rosse shook his head, "I wish we could."
London England
3:00 P.M
July 13th 2014
"We'll be right there," John said in a panic and hung up the phone. "Sherlock, Sherlock," he shouted.
"What is it John?" The detective rolled his eyes, "I'm showing these Americans what real fish and chips are like."
"Apparently leaving her while she was asleep hasn't helped, she's been screaming for over an hour," John explained, as if this were a tragedy.
"I told you, let her scream, she hasn't been away from one of us for more than an hour her entire life, of course she's going to be upset" Sherlock scolded. "Tell me this, if Garcia had been used to only being with Morgan her entire life, if she were only used to him and not exposed to anyone. Wouldn't she feel upset, if she went to sleep and woke up to find me cooking her lunch, wouldn't she be terrified."
"That's different," John hissed.
"Yes, it is," Sherlock smiled and placed a chip in his mouth.
"You're not making any sense," Watson snapped and began to walk out the door.
"It's different because Isabelle is six months old," Sherlock reminded him. "She has no idea what this world is or what's safe and what's not nor whose safe and whose not. She's a ten pounds five ounces and two feet tall. Imagine how even the two people who undoubtedly love her most, must seem. She's probably terrified every second. Which is why it is our job to teach her and not be afraid of the world. She can't do that if every time daddy and Uncle Sherlock come to her aid. Please John, let's finish lunch and then we'll head back to Baker's Street."
"No," John growled, "I'm going for the exact reasons you said, she's ten pounds five ounces and is two feet tall, she needs me."
"John, John," Sherlock put his hand on his shoulder. "I can't let you go."
"How are you going to stop me?" He smiled smugly, just before he saw Sherlock's fist flying towards him.
London England
2:00 A.M
July 14th 2014
"What happened?" John groaned and sat up from the couch.
"She did it John," Sherlock smiled proudly and cradled the baby in his arms.
"Did what?" Watson asked groggily and rubbed his eyes.
"She calmed down for Mrs. Hudson," he laughed and kissed her head.
"She stopped screaming," John giggled and took her from him. "So does this mean, she's over separation anxiety?"
"She's on her way John," Sherlock replied, "she's on her way.
"I'll ask the doctor's opinion tomorrow," her father whispered.
"Tomorrow," Sherlock gasped and looked towards the floor.
"Her six month checkup," John whispered in a scolding tone. "Sherlock don't tell me you forgot about-
"Of course I didn't," he shook his head and began to back out of the room.
"Sherlock Holmes, do you remember what happened at our first doctors appointment?" John reminded him and slowly began to corner the detective.
"Come on John," he threw back his head with a fit of laughter, "so what if the doctor kicked us out of the office and called every other to warn them?"
"No, no," Watson growled, "that was when Mary was six months pregnant."
"No, I got us kicked out of there as well, but I'm thinking of when Isabelle was given her shots," Sherlock pushed his best friend out of the way and skulked towards his room.
"Wait, was that the time you pulled a gun on the nurse or you injected the doctor with a needle because you wanted to think twice before sticking it into another baby's leg?" John asked, now feeling honestly curious.
"Neither," Holmes replied,
"Oh, when you set the waiting room on fire?" John snickered, forgetting why he was mad.
"We were kicked out then too, but no," Sherlock smiled, "I was actually thinking about when I-
"Sent that nasty male nurse out, naked covered in that green stuff?" John cackled and sat back down.
"Precisely" he shook his head and joined his companion.
"Now we have to go to Scotland because, nowhere in England, will take us," Watson laughed fiercely and caused Isabelle's eyes to shoot wide open.
"Oh John," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "what would Mary say if she could see what we're doing to her poor daughter."
"I know," John giggled, "she'd say, Isabelle is lucky to be alive."
"Yes, I can hear her," Sherlock agreed.
"So I guess, you're feeling better," JJ smiled and interrupted their schoolboy giggles.
"Yes, yes I am," John smiled, noticing the baby's eyes, slowly closing once again.
"Here," Sherlock sighed and took the baby from his arms. "I'll lay her down," he stated and walked into his room, where he had the portable.
"So what are you doing up?" Watson asked and patted the couch for her to sit down.
"My shoulder, I dislocated it and it hurts like crazy," she sighed.
"Here," John offered, "let me take a look at it."
"Alright," she groaned and noticed him take a firm grip and pull, causing an attempted scream, but instead piercing her teeth through her tongue.
"Oh," he gasped and grabbed some tissues. "I'm sorry," he stuttered.
"It's fine," she smiled, "but my shoulder doesn't hurt anymore."
"Who put it back in for you?" He cringed, wondering if he wanted to know.
"My husband," she blushed, "he told me that we didn't need to go to a hospital."
"Well no offense, but he's and idiot," John said bluntly.
"He kind of is," she sighed and rubbed her shoulder.
"But a lucky one none the less," he nodded.
"How are you holding up?" She frowned and wiped a tear from his eye.
"I'm not going to lie," he shrugged. "There is not one day that goes by that I don't blow her a kiss or shed a tear. Every day, it feels worse."
"Because you feel guilty," she finished his sentence, "because everyday, you feel a little better, because each time you wake up, it reminds you that you're going to get through it. I know everyday it feels worse, because you feel better. Now I know I didn't know Mary, but she seemed like the kind of person who would want that hurt to stop."
"She would," John nodded, "but that's what hurts the most, is realizing that I can be happy."
"I bet you anything, that Mary is smiling right now," she reminded him.
"Oh JJ," John cried out, "you are-," he would never get out those last words, because of Mrs. Hudson knocking. "What is it Mrs. Hudson?" John hissed, feeling his moment interrupted.
"I'm sorry dear," she cringed, "but there's a gentlemen who just barged in here.
"Bring him up," Watson hissed, as the man stepped in causing JJ's eyes to widen, as they never have before.
With one simple word, her face burst into tears, one name rather, "Gideon."