A Boy In Need

Chp 14

He shouldn't have gone. He should have stayed at the house. Someone should have. Someone other than the security agents that didn't seem to know how to keep a thirteen year old from slipping past them. John already felt anxious about the prospect as they climbed into the car Mycroft had assigned them, once they arrived at the crime scene the feeling only grew. Sherlock insisted it was unlikely anything would happen to Hamish. The security had been warned and it was unlikely he would leave when he was already in so much trouble, he knew better than to cause further aggravation. Besides, all the pictures had been of John, John was the one to be attacked, and it was far more likely for the killer to take a second go at him. However it was clear Sherlock shared some of his concern as he was being particularly sarcastic to the Lestrade and the few others Mycroft had allowed to help with the case but John couldn't be bothered to step in. He was pacing the new victims living room consumed with thoughts of their son. Hamish and him had never fought like that, Sherlock said it was puberty but John had a feeling it was something quite different. If there was one thing he knew, it was his son, and that boy had not been acting normally since Irene's murder.

He had never been more nervous about his son than he had in the past month, and it was only getting worse. There was no indication as to where all of these new hostilities were springing up, or how he'd found out so much about John and Sherlock's past, but the doctor knew it just had to do with whoever he was sneaking out to see. It was unsettling to say the least. Whoever this person was he wanted them out of his son's life now, they were steering him down a bad path and John worried about what affect they were having on the boy's young psyche. Hamish had never been easily influenced, so this person had to be clever. He knew Hamish wouldn't want to hear it so soon after their fight, but John needed to put his foot down. This person could not be allowed to have further contact.

When he looked around the house of the most recent murder victim he wondered why the murderer had to choose the time his son was going through an adolescent crisis to start threatening his life. As if wondering when some knife wielding maniac might pop up wasn't enough, he wasn't even sure who his kid was spending all this time with. For all he knew it was some drug dealer… no, probably not, but someone not good. John would have noticed if Hamish showed any signs of drug abuse. At any rate the circumstances really couldn't get any worse and the sooner the killer was found the better. He just wanted to figure out what was going on with the boy before any more damage was done. Clearly he was upset, and John hated to see him like that.

"John!"

Sherlock's urgent cry ripped John from his thoughts on Hamish and to where his husband was. The doctor made his way out of the living area and through the house as quickly as possible, looking for any sign of where the man might be. The house was quite large and the longer it took him to locate Sherlock the more anxious he became. When he finally found the detective he was standing in a large dining room with Lestrade and one of Mycroft's agents staring down at the body of a middle aged woman.

"What? What's happened?"

John questioned as thousands of horrible possibilities sounded off in his mind. Sherlock did not answer at first, merely walked over to the blonde and then led him closer to the scene of the crime.

"Does this look familiar to you?"

The detective asked and at first John was so stunned he couldn't even process what he'd said. All he could think was that they were not in immediate danger, and neither was Hamish. Then he looked around the room before focusing in on the woman hunched over the dining table. She was the owner of the house no doubt, there didn't seem to be anyone else living in the elegant house and it had been her work that made a missing person inquiry. Something was very 'not good' about her though, something seemed odd. A few something's actually. Many of the victims had had their clothing changed to better fit the murderer's fancy, and it was clear that the same had been done to her; it even looked as though the woman had been given a haircut. There were only a few trace signs of it but years of working with Sherlock made John's eyes keen for detail. And the more he observed the stranger things became. Something about the image was far too familiar. There was an apple in her hand with what couldn't have been more than two bites taken out of it. The apple itself had gone rotten, as well as the rest of the fruit that was resting in the center of the table and when John leaned in he could see that someone had tampered with the fruits. Small needle holes could be just barely made out. However the doctor still failed to recognize where this eerily familiar scene had come up in the past.

"It does… did we solve another murder like this…"

His voice trailed off as he realized that he had come to the wrong conclusion. The answer was on the tip of his tongue but nothing was coming to mind.

"Think. Really think John. We've seen this woman before, this disturbing image."

Sherlock pressed as he gripped his hands behind his back tightly. John looked back to the woman and let his husband's specific phrasing engrain itself in his mind before he had a sudden thunderbolt of clarity. He went instantly pale as the realization struck and he had to lean onto the nearby wall to prevent himself from falling over.

"No, do you… you know what this means."

John stammered as his mind raced and his heart thundered.

"Yes, we've caught the killer."

Sherlock declared darkly as he moved over and began leading John out of the house. The doctor could hardly manage to maintain his balance while being rushed outside; he was far more concentrated on other things. Lestrade had been silently observing until then and followed quickly behind the pair as they made their way towards their car.

"Hold on, what are you talking about? Just yesterday you didn't know anything about this killer other than her gender, now all of a sudden you know exactly who it is?"

The detective inspector questioned desperately as a disoriented John was stowed away into the black Lincoln. Sherlock spun around to pin Lestrade with his signature stare and pointed towards the house with vehemence.

"Whoever killed that woman staged her murder to mimic one of Hamish's paintings. One that I'd be willing to bet my life on that only John, Hamish, and I laid eyes on… excluding one person. Hamish has been sneaking off to see someone, and given the hours he's been spending painting and the severe lack of paintings in his room, I'd say he's been giving these paintings to that someone. The mystery killer and Hamish's mystery friend are one in the same."

Sherlock informed the man with an intensity that John hadn't heard in years. The detective didn't wait for Lestrade to recover from the shock; instead he hopped into the car alongside the doctor and demanded the driver get them back as quickly as possible. John was practically trembling in his seat as the reality set in and tried to maintain his composure.

"Our son has been hanging around a murderer."

He finally panted out and buried his face into his hands only to have Sherlock jerk him back upright.

"John, we need to focus now. This is good… well, mostly. It means we've caught her! We shall obtain her identity from Hamish and then lock her away. From there we can appropriately punish our son for keeping such bad company."

Sherlock said as steadily as possible. Despite what he said it was clear that he was shaken as well, but John accepted that this was the lie they needed to tell themselves for the time. Once the killer was secured they could worry about what had happened, what they'd allowed to occur, but first they needed to make sure everyone was safe. They just needed to get back to Hamish.