A/N: So I was going to wait before posting this, but then I got impatient. Longer chapter, enjoy and comment/review!

Lestrade shook his head at the sight of the two walking casually towards him. It wasn't just that they were walking towards him, but how leisurely they were doing so. Did the man have no respect? No, wait, Lestrade knew the answer to that, and he crossed his arms and waited for them to approach.

"Sherlock, this is a crime scene, you can't be here," the detective inspector reminded him, knowing full well that it was a losing fight. Telling Sherlock he couldn't be there was about as effective as telling a cloud it couldn't be in the sky.

"Why, hello Detective Inspector, fancy meeting you here," Sherlock replied brightly, but the arrogance in his voice was unmistakable. He knew something. "I was just out for a stroll with Raven here," he raised the hand that he was holding while Raven waved with the other. "Thought it was a nice day for one."

"It's a crime scene," Lestrade repeated.

Sherlock frowned disapprovingly. "You're beginning to sound like Anderson."

"This is a murder scene," he continued. "She…"

"Yes, and frankly quite a dull one from the looks of it." Sherlock's eyes flicked over the body not far off. "A mugging gone wrong, I'd say. If I were you, I'd check the alleyways nearby. You're looking for a man slightly below average height, and he's probably managed to change by now, but he'll likely have blood spatters on his shoes. Odd that people tend to forget about their shoes," he mused to himself. "Remember that, Raven; never forget the shoes."

"What do you want?" Lestrade relented.

"The murdered man, James Sullivan…"

"Sherlock, that case is closed."

"I need to talk to the ex-wife," Sherlock continued as though the other man hadn't spoken at all.

"Why?"

"Because she didn't do it."

Lestrade sighed. "Look, I'm trying to be patient, Sherlock, but I'm busy, and that case is closed. You know why it's closed? Because she confessed. She confessed to everything, and knew all the details about the crime, details we hadn't released." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, but she's the murderer."

"She didn't do it," Sherlock repeated, "but I believe I know why she confessed and how she knew the details. Five minutes, Lestrade, I want five minutes with her."

"Sherlock…"

"Five minutes." He was close to getting his way; he could see it in the other man's face. "Please," he threw in for good measure.

"Her name is Jody," Lestrade informed him, holding the handle of the door. "Five minutes, Sherlock. That's all."

"That's all I need," Sherlock assured him.

The elder of the two nodded and opened the door. "Uh, no, Sherlock, Raven—"

"Is staying with me," Sherlock finished for him, pulling Raven into the room with him and shutting the door behind him.

A woman sat across the table, her head bowed. Her hair was a sandy colour, and her face was tired – she wasn't old, late twenties perhaps, but she looked worn. Sherlock pulled out the chair across from her and sat down before lifting Raven into his lap. He'd warned her to be quiet, and so far she was obeying.

"Jody Sullivan," he addressed her.

"It's Jody Moore," she corrected softly, keeping her head down. "I use my maiden name."

Using her maiden name, indicating that she wanted no connection to her former husband. "Ms. Moore…"

"I've told you everything already."

Ah, defensive. He noted this as well. "I've never spoken with you before."

"I mean the police."

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, I'm not with the police," he replied, and she looked up for the first time. Her eyes looked at his face quickly, but they settled down to rest on Raven. Interesting. "And I don't believe you have told them everything."

"Why do you say that?" She asked quietly, her voice losing the mild confidence it had held. Her eyes remained on Raven, who was sucking her thumb and seemingly oblivious to the conversation happening.

"They have your child, don't they?" He had to get to the point.

"Who—"

"The men who murdered your ex. They took your child."

She shook her head and dropped it once more. "I don't have…"

"Oh, but you do," he interrupted, looking her over quickly. "A child of perhaps two, but no older. You use to be quite thin, but you've retained much of the weight from the pregnancy, despite all the stress you've been under the past year, and you have been under stress. Perhaps that's why you've kept the weight." Pointing to her arm, he continued, "You've been scratched, and bitten, but not by an animal, and the marks are too small to be from an adult. A child throwing a tantrum however would cause that."

She drew her lower lip into her mouth and trembled a bit, but said nothing.

"Your husband had stains on his clothing from a spilled drink. The patterns indicated that he hadn't been the one to drop it. He was far too tall, and he was standing while he received them. Someone at a table perhaps. Now, if an adult had dropped it, they would be the one to clean it up, but they didn't. James did. Also from the patterns, I could tell that he turned around several times while cleaning a spill. He turned to see someone. A spill of the size it was wouldn't take long, so he would just ignore an adult talking to him until he had finished. Who needs to be watched at all times? A child," Sherlock finished, noting that her eyes were once more upon the girl in his lap. "Something you're accustomed to."

"Please," the woman whispered, choking back her tears.

"Your ex-husband had your child the day he was murdered. However, no child has since been found."

"I d-didn't want to g-give him S-Sammy, with the d-drugs and all he'd been in-into," she hiccupped, wiping her spilling tears away with the palm of her hand. "But… but the courts… there-there was no proof."

Sherlock folded his arms around Raven to press his hands together. "They told you to confess, planted the evidence in your home on the condition your son wouldn't be harmed."

She nodded, holding her arms close to her body. "They-they said that i-if I told the police, they w-would kill h-him. B-but now..."

"I'm not with the police," Sherlock reminded her, lifting Raven as he stood.

"P-please," Jody sobbed, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "F-find my son. Please, Mr. Holmes."

He nodded, and stepped out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

On the other side, he smiled at the waiting detective inspector. "Did you get all of that?"

Lestrade nodded. "Yes. Alright, you were right."

"Obviously."

"Duh! Daddy is ALWAYS right!"

Lestrade blinked and looked at the girl quizzically. "Daddy?"

"Long story, she calls me that in public, but nevertheless, she's correct. You should know to listen to me by now," Sherlock chided. "Now, don't you think you have work to do? This case is most certainly not closed, and a child's life is in danger, if it's not already too late due to your incompetence."

"I thought you don't care about the victims or hostages?" Lestrade called after Sherlock as he strutted away.

Sherlock turned. "I don't, which will help this case considerably. I might as well just finish it for you. Who does care is the woman sitting in that room. I imagine the papers would love to hear her story of how the police failed her if her son turns up dead, don't you?" Raven yawned widely and nestled against Sherlock's shoulder. "Oh, that's right, I'm not to be working these cases. Goodbye Detective Inspector, I believe it's nap time."

Sherlock grinned to himself as he walked out of the building, Lestrade barking orders to the rest of the team behind him. Double checking to be sure his mobile was on, he slid it back into his pocket. He estimated that he'd be getting a call pleading for his help in approximately an hour to an hour and a half. Plenty of time to put Raven down for a while. Meanwhile, he could do some research of his own.