Sherlock and Joan spent just under three hours in the late DA's office, surveying the scene and discussing their findings with various medical and legal personnel. The medical staff confirmed that the DA died at 8.30pm that evening, that the cause of death was a bullet wound to the chest which struck his heart and caused massive haemorrhaging, and that the assailant was stood between three and four feet away at the time. From this point of view, the medical evidence was of little use. However, what was of interest, and what had engaged the concerns of Sherlock and Joan, was the DA's laptop. The news of the DA's interest in them was both confusing and seemingly inexplicable. The fact that he was researching them shortly before his death was equally as mystifying, and drew Joan and Sherlock further in to the depths of the latest occurrence in the current chain of events. Twenty minutes after the IT technicians entered the room and studied the laptop, as Sherlock stood near the text and surveyed the small stack of files, the mystery was finally beginning to unravel.
A search of the laptop's history, as well as the files on the desk, revealed much about the late DA's activities and the reason for him being at the courthouse so late at night. The cases and individuals being researched, as well as the cases on the desk, provided evidence which strongly suggested that the DA was mounting a private investigation into The Couple, and that he was reviewing cold cases which he believed could be linked to them. The DA was reaching out to various contacts in the FBI, CIA and Interpol, and was building international bridges, all in the sanctity of his own office. Interviews with individuals close to the DA, including family members, friends and colleagues, revealed him to be a traditional, patriotic former war-hero whose faith in the law and justice was matched by his strong belief and love for his country. Clearly, he was an individual concerned with the well-being of those who shared his dreams and ambitions, who were being attacked and brought down by two assailants. He also realised that the attacks on these individuals had a direct affect on the lives of others. His desire to protect his country, as well as the institutions which were designed to protect the people, led to him orchestrating his own investigation. He was able to utilise his own vast knowledge, experience and international connections in order to make significant headway in the investigation. Shortly after this was realised, it was established that he kept his findings and his research out of the public domain, as he sensed the growing uncertainty and distrust which was present within all legal and governmental institutions. However, he did enlist the help of four individuals whom he trusted implicitly in order to aid his investigation. These individuals included two judges, Alan Robertson and Richard Ligardo; an ADA named Amelia Van Kamp, and a private investigator called Justin Reynolds. Based on the depth and breadth of research the DA had stored in various files on his laptop, and based on the dozens of cases he had clearly reviewed, this elite group of investigators had been on the case almost since its beginning. Joan, Sherlock and the NYPD were keen to meet with these individuals: to study their characters, their knowledge of the DA and his work, and to share information in a hope to progress further in the case.
Gregson, Bell, Sherlock and Joan discussed this issue and agreed that, in the interests of the case, they would arrange a clandestine meeting to take place between the formerly mentioned individuals and the four people who were working with the DA. In the interests of safety and privacy, it was decided that this meeting was to take place at the brownstone the next day at six o'clock in the evening. Until then, the team was to survey the available information, consider the DA's case and his findings, and then regroup at Sherlock's at the decided time. Gregson stated that he would arrange the meeting, and urged Sherlock and Joan to go home, rest, and prepare themselves. He also informed Joan that her case was also being investigated, and that he would personally ensure that her apartment was restored to its former state, and that she would be entitled to additional security details if she desired. She thanked him kindly but declined his last request, insisting that she was sufficiently protected.
It was just after midnight before Sherlock and Joan were able to return to the brownstone, armed with photocopies of various files, photographs of the most recent crime scene, an extensive inventory, and a duplicate of the DA's hard-drive. By the time William had driven them back, Watson's former tiredness had returned with a vengeance. Her mouth felt dry, her limbs were heavy and she was physically and emotionally exhausted. Sherlock held the door to the brownstone open and she crept slowly through the corridor, depositing her stack of heavy files on the kitchen table, before slowly sinking into a nearby chair. Sherlock followed behind her slowly, and cautiously watched her. Something wasn't right. He had never seen her like this before, so silent and dejected. He felt certain that he was missing something, that there was something she needed help with.
"Watson, I know I have asked you this several times in the past few hours, but are you certain that you are alright?" He kept a respectable distance from her, standing with his files in the doorway. She looked across the room towards him, resting her head on her hand. The kindness and compassion in his eyes made her want to run to him and embrace him, to throw herself into his arms, cry solidly for several hours, and seek his help and his comfort. But the same look in his eyes reminded her of exactly the reason why she could not do that. She would not risk his well-being, health or stability, regardless of what that meant to her own.
"I'm fine, really. It's just been a long and eventful, complicated day. And instead of falling into bed like a normal person would I have to sift through this mountain of files." She ran her fingers up the stack which she had just deposited on the table, the sound of her nails hitting the paper creating a sharp scratching sound.
"You should rest, Watson. It's been a long day for you." He replied in the same kind and compassionate tone, which touched Joan deeply. She went from feeling empowered by it to feeling guilt-ridden and unworthy of such kindness.
"Yeah, well it's been a difficult day for us both. No rest for the wicked." She smiled sweetly at him before picking the first file off the pile and placing it down in front of her. She drew a notepad and pen from her purse, removed the lid of the pen, and began to read.
Sherlock watched her for a few moments before placing his own files on his armchair before walking briskly through the living area and towards the kitchen. This fast and confident movement caught Joan's attention, and she rose her head tiredly from the file. Sherlock stood in front of her for a few moments, once again considering all the signs of her tiredness. Her body was screaming for release, pleading for rest, and she was denying it to herself. He took a few steps closer until they were merely inches apart, before reaching down and gently prising the file from her fingertips. She appeared to be mildly irritated, but he knew that she was far too tired to maintain a lengthy or developed argument on the matter. "Your mind will be much more able to deal with the material and the meeting if you are sufficiently rested." He stated, standing tall in front of her, his arms fixed firmly by his sides. "And it is not simply your intellectual prowess that I am concerned with" he began, his gaze temporarily faltering. "I am concerned about you." She nodded slowly, dropped her pen on the desk and pushed herself back in her chair, accepting defeat. His words had touched her deeply, and she wanted to reassure him in any way she could.
"I'll set an alarm for six, and I do not expect it to be tampered with." She rose slowly from her seat, drawing her jacket closer around her.
Sherlock nodded in approval. "Agreed. Thank you." He watched her as she left the room, and remained still until he heard her bedroom door slowly close. He then took up her seat, drew the stack towards him, and began to analyse them.
Joan slept soundly through the night and took great offence to her alarm waking her at six in the morning. She shifted slowly in her bed, and was about to remove her blankets from her body when she saw Sherlock's silhouette in an armchair near the window. She shifted into a seating position and drew her blankets closer to her, wrapping them around her abdomen.
"Good morning, Watson." Sherlock chirped happily, quickly rising from his seat and approaching her bed. "I took the liberty of reviewing all files and making concise notes. When you are ready, we can discuss the findings when you are ready." He leaned back on his heels before straightening his arms, nodding and leaving her room. As he left, fear gripped her. She was afraid of what he could have seen. What if he saw her stomach? What if he worked it out? She quickly assured herself this was not the case, his demeanour was consistent with his usual manner, and he appeared satisfyingly happy and laid back. Joan turned slowly and placed her legs over the edge of the bed, before pulling down the baggy grey shirt she was wearing. She held the sides of the shirt and pulled it tightly against her abdomen, watching as the material clung to the visible curve of her stomach. Her rounded stomach was only noticeable when she wore tight fitting material, and even then it was not something that everyone would notice. However, there was no doubt in her mind that Sherlock would notice. She rested both her hands upon her abdomen, inhaled sharply, and then proceeded to run her fingertips gently across her stomach, before resting her hands at the bottom of her abdomen. "I'm sorry" she mumbled, in a tone that was barely audible. "I'm so sorry."
Joan showered and dressed herself within half an hour before joining Sherlock in the kitchen. They discussed the cases for over an hour, with Watson picking up the case files Sherlock was referring to, skimming through them and asking questions, offering interpretations and comparing it to their current knowledge. From what they had seen so far, the DA and his team were making significant progress. They had reviewed cases which went back twelve months, and had located fifty three which had potential links to The Couple. During the night, Sherlock had solved four of these cases and identified nine more which were also unrelated, meaning that there were forty cases to discuss with the others when they arrived. Joan and Sherlock reviewed the cases all day, and established that at least half of them were the work of The Couple.
By half past five Gregson and Bell had arrived, as well as Alfredo, whose presence Sherlock did not explain. By six o'clock the four individuals who were the trusted allies of the DA had arrived. The first to arrive was Judge Alan Robertson, a tall, slim man in his mid fifties with a dark beard and commanding manner. He wore a dark, tailored suit and accepted a cup of black coffee upon his entry into the brownstone. He sat on the couch in the seat closest to the window, and perused the titles of some of the books on Sherlock's second and third shelves with great interest and admiration. Judge Richard Ligardo and an ADA named Amelia Van Kamp arrived together five minutes later. He was younger, between forty five and fifty, with sandy hair which was slightly grey. He was tall, athletically-built and had a notable air of arrogance. He had risen quickly within the legal profession and was held in high esteem by his colleagues and all who met him. ADA Van Kamp was a woman with a similar reputation. She had long, dark hair which she kept in a tight, elegant bun, with a few dark curls falling gently by her cheeks. She had large blue eyes and a charming and endearing manner. She was very slim and wore a bespoke black jacket, tight trousers and designer heels. They gratefully accepted some coffee from Sherlock, before moving into the living area. They greeted their fellow legal professional with warm sincerity, before sitting next to him on the couch. Justin Reynolds arrived a few minutes later, and was very different to the three people who had just passed into the room. He was young, between twenty and twenty five, with shoulder-length dark hair, and dressed in a manner not totally dissimilar to Sherlock. Joan smiled at him as she offered him some tea, which he gratefully accepted, before flashing her a bright, infectious smile. Solely in terms of appearance, he reminded Joan slightly of a younger, laid back, surfer-version of Sherlock. It was ironic, then, that their latest guest strolled confidently into the living area and perched himself comfortably on the arm of Sherlock's armchair, much to the latter's chagrin.
The group greeted each other civilly, but it was clear, despite sharing the same concerns and interests, that there were concerns and suspicions on both sides. The two judges seemed uncertain of Sherlock's legitimacy, although they did state that the DA had mentioned him and Watson to them, and had displayed a great sense of faith and respect in them and their work. Over the next couple of hours the discussion was lengthy and detailed. The group shared their findings and pooled their information relating to both the psychological profile of The Couple, as well as their MO. It turned out that the information established by both sides was almost identical, no more significant information having been mentioned. One thing that was discussed was the nature of the relationship between The Couple. Sherlock and Joan believed that it was possible that they had a physical connection, but thought it more likely that their relationship was one based on a different type of power and lust. The Judges agreed, the ADA remained on the fence, but the PI revealed his strong belief that their relationship was sexual. He had no evidence to back this up, arguing simply that a relationship between two individuals whose closeness was necessary to their work was almost impossible to relegate to a non-physical nature. Sherlock nodded, replied curtly, and quickly moved on. Joan, on the other hand, shifted slightly in her seat, and looked around the room at anything that was not a large, red couch. The conversation was productive and relatively useful, and both parties knew that it was more of an introductory session than true meeting of minds. They agreed to continue their own research and work, and regroup in three days time at the brownstone. They exchanged details and shook hands before departing. The police left first, followed by the two judges. The PI stayed for a few minutes to talk to Joan (he was being flirtatious which, ordinarily, would not have bothered her too much. But under the circumstances, it perplexed her).
Shortly after the PI left, Sherlock and Joan walked into the living area and joined ADA Amelia Van Kamp, who had remained behind, and was staring thoughtfully out of the window.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not usually one to linger." She flashed a bright smile at Sherlock before tentatively adjusting her hair. "It's just, I thought I should mention... I didn't know if it was relevant, but..." her smile faltered and her eyes began to fill with tears. Joan moved slowly towards her, and placed a hand comfortingly on one of her shoulders, before escorting her back to the couch.
"It's alright, take your time." Joan offered her a smile, and joined her on the couch. Sherlock stood in Van Kamp's former position near the window, his attention fixed upon the weeping legal professional.
"Jack and I... we were close. Very close, actually." She let out a short, nervous laugh as she wiped the tears from her cheek, her bright eyes glistening as she looked from Joan to Sherlock.
"We became close during our time together working on this project. I specialise in cases involving human rights, and often involve myself in a fair amount of pro bono work. We shared a connection. We both noticed something odd was occurring, and we began working together about six months ago. Shortly afterwards we recruited the others, realising that it was much bigger than we thought." She smiled reflectively, before rising from her seat and meeting Sherlock's eyes. "Jack was a good man, a great man. There was a lot at stake but he didn't care, we just wanted to make it right." She shrugged simply, and inhaled sharply to prevent herself from crying more. "We have to continue his work. We need to make this right."
"We will, Miss Van Kamp, I can assure you of that." Sherlock replied kindly, as she smiled gratefully up at him. Joan rose from the sofa and offered Amelia her sincerest condolences, told her to call her personally if there was anything she needed, and reassured her that they would not rest until they had brought The Couple to justice. Amelia thanked her sincerely, and was then escorted from the brownstone by Sherlock. Joan sat back on the sofa, the warm cushions drawing her back. She looked up to see Alfredo standing next to her. He smiled and joined her on the couch.
"It's great to see you, Alfredo." She stated kindly, which was rewarded with a kind smile.
"And you, Miss Watson. As I'm sure you've guessed, Sherlock has been enlisting my services in this matter, and some others, every since the beginning." Joan smiled and nodded, surprised that this had not occurred to her before. She was about to reply when Sherlock re-entered the room and paused in front of Joan and Alfredo, his arms hanging by his sides, his focus shifting onto Joan.
"I just received a phone call from Detective Bell. He says that your apartment has been analysed and cleaned, and is now perfectly habitable once more. He says that you are free to move back whenever you like." He tried to smile, but Joan could detect the suppressed sadness that he was attempting to mask. "However, if you would like to join Alfredo and myself for dinner, we could always-"
"Actually, I need to be off right about now." Joan began, gathering her things. "I missed my friend yesterday, and so I am visiting her this evening instead. I won't leave until late, so I think I will go back to my own apartment." She placed her bag over her shoulder and fastened the buttons on her jacket. "Thank you, Sherlock. It was lovely to see you Alfredo." Alfredo waved casually from the couch, missing the kind, concerned look which Sherlock gave to Joan.
"Take care, won't you? And please don't hesitate to call, for whatever reason. Whenever you need to."
She smiled up at him, nodding politely. "Of course, thank you. See you tomorrow."
Watson left the brownstone and drove to her former Professor's home. This time, she decided, she would go straight there. No chances would be taken, it was an appointment she had to keep. Upon arriving at the secluded old farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, Joan drove slowly into the driveway, the sound of gravel crunching under her wheels filling the otherwise silent air, and making the Professor aware of Joan's presence. As she got out of her car and walked towards the door, Joan was greeted by the kindly face of her former Professor, whose kindness, support and extensive medical knowledge had deeply affected and improved Joan's personal and professional abilities during her time as a student and a resident. The lady was now in her mid fifties, and wore long, dark skirts with elegant silk blouses, her light blonde hair tied back from her face with a ribbon. She looked younger than she was, and had pale skin, green eyes and wore a subtle, peachy lipstick. "Joan, my dear. It is so lovely to see you." Professor Holloway approached Joan slowly and cautiously, slowly extending her arms and drawing the younger woman close to her chest, before releasing her and taking a few paces back, and leading her towards the open door. "You were fairly evasive on the phone, and you sounded upset. So how can I help you?" She asked in a kind and maternal manner, the same one she adopted with the nervous students who flocked to her office.
Joan stopped as she reached the entrance to the doorway, causing Professor Holloway to turn, stand in the doorway, and offer her the same kind, welcoming smile she recognised from med school.
"Jane, I... I need help." Joan's resolve broke, and she placed a hand across her mouth to stifle the sobs. The Professor, clearly affected deeply by Joan's distress, moved towards her once more and hugged her tightly, before escorting her into the house.