A MASSIVE, Incredible thanks to all of my readers and an even BIGGER thanks to my amazing reviewers. It means the world to me when people leave their thoughts on a chapter, so really and truly, thank you!

A Huge thanks to LatinClover, Tanjatailor, gwilwillith, acrossdimensions (I know… honestly I got bored reading fics like that, so I wrote my own. I hate rehashing. So thanks so much! Glad someone else appreciates that!), IceBreath, and bored411 for their reviews!

Here's a shorter one! Sorry its not longer!

Enjoy!

Greg Lestrade stared at the bawling woman across from him, completely at a loss of what to do. Having worked for Scotland Yard nearly his entire adult life, he was no stranger to grieving people, but when it was his mess up that had landed him here… that was another story.

They had been so focused on trying to tie Rowe to the kidnappings, he had forgotten the first rule of working a homicide: Never work backwards. Let the evidence lead you to the killer, not the other way around.

By trying to link Rowe, they allowed for another child to go missing, and apparently keep the wrong man in holding.

It was so perfect…

"Greg," a voice said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He turned to see John and Kylie looking at the woman with concern, while Sherlock had gone into what Lestrade referred to as "case mode"; meaning his mind was obviously racing as his eyes darted around the room taking in the details, completely oblivious to the people around him and emotions that they were holding.

"Hey," Lestrade said as he got up and walked over to them, "Thanks for coming."

"That's the mother of the kidnapped boy, I'm guessing?" Kylie inquired to Lestrade quietly.

"That's a bit obvious Kylie," Sherlock scoffed as his eyes wandered eagerly around the room, "Is your head even in this?"

Kylie blinked and turned to give him a look as John smirked and leaned over to her.

"That's why you always let the show off talk first," he told her out of the corner of his mouth.

Lestrade smirked as Kylie laughed slightly, earning them all a glare from Sherlock before he went back to looking around the room.

"Yeah," Lestrade continued after a moment, answering Kylie's questions, "Clarice Lessard; mother of Clarence Lessard, eight years old," he told them as he handed them a photo of the little boy.

Kylie took the picture and stared at the little boy smiling back at her, holding a fish next to a man who was holding him in his arms.

"The dad is over seas right now," Lestrade told them, "Fighting in Afghanistan."

Kylie barely heard him as she was intently staring at the picture, fighting her own instincts. She wasn't sure if it was just humanity, or maternal instincts kicking in… but all that she knew is she wanted to find this sweet little boy and rip his captor limb from limb.

A little boy… the victim was just a little boy…

"Was he sick?" she heard John ask.

"Yeah, according to the mother, Clarence has been seeing Dr. Rowe for four months now. He has a rare form of Kawasaki's disease…"

"That usually clears up with medication, doesn't it?" Kylie asked as she sighed and handed Lestrade back the photo.

"Not always," John inputted as he took the photo, looking at it gravely, "the majority of cases, yes. But the swelling to the lymph nodes and especially the vessels of the heart, can lead to permanent damage, which is most likely what Clarence is suffering from."

"If its permanent, why was he seeing a doctor anyway?" Sherlock asked as he walked over to a shelf and began examining the photographs.

"You don't have any children of your own, do you?" the crying woman, Clarice, asked, startling the group, as none of them thought that she was listening.

"Do you, Mr. Holmes?" she asked again as she wiped her eyes.

Sherlock stiffened and shifted at her, "Uh, no…" he told her stiffly, as he quickly tried to play off his awkwardness with annoyance.

"When you have a child Mr. Holmes, you do anything you possibly can for them. Even if that means doubting 13 doctors and seeing a man whom most people call a hack, all for my little boy to feel better even in the slightest."

Sherlock remained silent as he just shifted awkwardly.

"Mrs. Lessard, I assure you that we didn't mean any offense…" Kylie began.

"I didn't take any," Mrs. Lessard interrupted, "I just want to make my point clear." She paused for a moment, getting up and walked over to them, taking the photo of her son from John and staring at it sadly. "That I would do anything, and I mean anything for my little boy. I just want him home."

"We're going to do everything we possibly can to bring him home safe," John told her reassuringly.

The woman smiled at him and wiped a stray tear off her cheek, "I've read your blog. I really hope you didn't embellish your blog; because right now, I'm putting my son's life in your hands."

"Isn't that what you did with Rowe?" Sherlock asked, "Look how that one turned out."

Kylie, John, and Lestrade all turned and gaped at him with offense and shock at his blatant rudeness, which shouldn't have been a surprise to any of them by now.

Mrs. Lessard stared at him for a moment in silence before she took a step towards him, staring him dead in the eye. Sherlock fought every bone in his body to keep from shifting uncomfortably.

"I thought I was doing the right thing for my son, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Rowe made him feel better. He was finally that happy little boy I had always wanted him to be. Take a look at yourself… can you really judge me for that?"

"I'm not a hero," Sherlock told her after a moment of tense silence, "I cant save the day."

"I don't expect you to be a hero," Mrs. Lessard told him furiously, "My husband… he's a hero. I just expect you to do your God damn job and bring my little boy home."

Sherlock just stared at her, never breaking eye contact as the tension in the room mounted.

"Thank you for your time," Lestrade said loudly, trying to break the staring contest, "We'll be in touch."

Sherlock didn't move until Kylie grabbed his arm, firmly and yanked him out of the woman's home, John right behind him.

As soon as they all got outside, Kylie shoved him towards Lestrade's cruiser.

"What in the hell was that?" Kylie asked furiously.

Sherlock looked at her, taken a back for a moment before he straightened his jacket.

"What are you talking about?"

Kylie looked at him in amazement before biting her lip and shaking her head furiously at him.

"She means how you were a complete and utter dick to a mother worried about her child," John inputted for her.

"I wasn't," Sherlock told them flatly, "I just pointed out the obvious…"

"No, you were a complete dick," Kylie ranted at him, "A complete and utter dick, Sherlock."

He just looked at her in slight confusion, making Kylie even more furious.

"Dammit! There's a kid at stake here, Sherlock! A couple of them, and instead of understanding the fact that this poor woman is scared out of her mind because her child is missing, you go and have to make a dick comment!"

"It was the truth!"

Kylie let out a scream of frustration before turning on her heel and storming off down the street.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock yelled after her. Not getting a response back, he turned to John, looking at him expectantly, "Where is she going?"

John looked at him before shaking his head and walking off after Kylie, leaving Sherlock all alone once more.

"John? …. JOHN!"

*^#*( &( _) !

Kylie walked into her flat, seething mad and soaking wet. Half way on her walk home, it had begun pouring rain and now she was utterly soaked to the bone.

Just what she needed….

Now she was pissed, wet, cold, and tired.

God! Why in the hell was he such a dick sometimes?

Sherlock was a good man. She knew he cared and that his dickish comments were usually a defensive mechanism for when he became uncomfortable with a situation or needed to lash out, but she had no idea why on earth he would have done that. He had been fine that morning in her flat, and silent on the way to the scene… in fact… oddly silent.

She walked into her room, stripping off her wet clothes and turning on the shower, letting it heat up before she stepped in.

She let the steaming water run over her body as she reflected on her prior thoughts.

He usually ranted excitedly about scenes and new aspects to cases… but this one was different. He hadn't been excited at all about any of the scenes… just quiet… brooding almost.

But why did he lash out?

When he became uncomfortable, he usually lashed out. But he hadn't been uncomfortable… had he?

Wait… he had shifted awkwardly when Mrs. Lessard asked him if he had any kids.

What in the hell did that mean?

Did he not want kids? Did he have kids?

Dear Lord, Kylie… STOP.

She shut her eyes and turned the water cold, causing her to gasp… effectively snapping her out of her train of thought.

She was over thinking this. She had to be.

But still… this damn case… it was killing them all. They were all effected. She didn't know if it was the experimenting, the fact that kids were at stake, or that fact that Rowe was just a sick son of a bitch and now, they weren't even sure if it was him now to begin with.

They were all strung up on it. It was getting to them all, but it had been effecting Sherlock differently from the start.

Was this about kids?

She let out a frustrated groan as she let the cold water run over her face.

She needed to stop this… right now.

She was frustrated, tired, hungry, and angry. The last thing she needed to do was jump to conclusions.

She needed to find these kids, then nap and eat something. Until then, she need to avoid jumping to conclusions.

Kylie shut off the shower and wrapped herself in a towel before walking into her bedroom, pulling on some clothes. She grabbed her phone, checking for any messages as she wrapped the towel around her wet hair, walking out into the living room.

"I'm sorry," a deep voice said, startling her.

Kylie jumped and looked to see Sherlock, damp from the rain, leaning against her kitchen counter.

"God, seriously?" she asked as she took a deep breath in, trying to calm herself, "You need to stop breaking into my flat, Sherlock."

"Its not breaking in if I have a key."

"Key? How in the hell do you have a key?"

Sherlock smirked at her.

"Son of a… seriously?... give it back."

"No, and I came here for another reason."

Kylie looked at him suspiciously as she took the towel off of her head.

"And what's that?" she asked.

"I…" Sherlock began before trailing off as he looked at the ground, his shoulders slumping.

She just raised her eyebrow at him.

"I don't do this well," he muttered as he reached behind him and grabbed probably the most pitiful, half-dead flower Kylie had ever seen.

He toyed with it for a second before he held it out towards her.

"I'm… I'm sorry I was, as you say, acting like a dick. So, please… forgive me?"

Kylie half laughed at him as she felt herself smile. He looked so pitiful, yet so enduring. He was avoiding her eye with a look similar to that of a damp kicked puppy, with a small blush coming over his face. As mad as she still wanted to be at him, he was making it extremely hard for her.

She slowly walked over and took the flower from him, looking at it with a smile.

"You brought me a flower?" she smiled at him.

"Its what I'm supposed to do, isn't it?"

She laughed, "You don't have to do anything."

"So much for John's advice…" Sherlock grumbled.

"John walked home with me," she told him, "That and I'm pretty sure John meant buy a woman flowers, not pick a half dead one from in front of Speedy's… but I appreciate the gesture all the same."

"Oh… that would make more sense," Sherlock said as he looked at her, "How did you know I picked it in front of Speedy's?"

She smiled at him, "You aren't the only one with observational skills Mr. Holmes."

A smile tugged on a corner of his mouth at her words as he watched her put the flower up to her nose, smelling it.

"Ugh," she said as she frowned, pulling away from the flower quickly, "I'm pretty sure that a dog peed on this right before you picked it."

"What? Really?" Sherlock asked, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, and I just stuck my nose in it," Kylie said in disgust as she rubbed her nose, trying to get the scent off.

Sherlock started chuckling at her.

"You knew?!"

"No, I wouldn't have picked it if I did," Sherlock told her, laughing at her.

"You told me about the train car with John," Kylie told him, "and as hilarious as that was, it was a cold prank."

"You didn't see his face…"

"No, but I wish I would have," Kylie smiled as she looked down at the flower still in her hand.

They fell into silence.

"Do I have to put this dog pee flower in a vase?" Kylie asked him.

"No, it smells like urine."

"Oh thank God," Kylie said with relief as she tossed it in the bin and washed her hands.

Ring Ring Ring

"Can you see who that is?" she asked him.

"What am I? Your mother?" Sherlock scoffed as he obediently got up and picked up her phone, glancing at the caller ID as he brought it back over.

"No, I thought you were my boyfriend asking for forgiveness?" she smiled at him in a smart-alec fashion as she dried her hands.

"American number," he told her as he showed her the still ringing phone.

"Mmh, thanks," she said as she kissed his cheek and picked up the phone.

"Kylie Gibbs," she answered as she pulled away from Sherlock and picked up a dirty plate.

"Hello Kales," a chilling voice said on the other end of the line.

Kylie felt her blood run cold and every muscle in her body go stiff. She hadn't heard that voice in two years… and it was one she never wanted to hear again.

"Thomas," Kylie whispered breathlessly.

"You know better than to ignore my boss and I, gorgeous. Our feeling are getting hurt that you would rush back to the UK with your little gang in tow, and pick up some sappy medical case. So… in order to move things along, I will give you what you want."

"What's that Thomas?" Kylie asked as she felt Sherlock next to her, her whole body shaking as she tried to keep her voice steady, "For you to crawl under a rock and die? Because that would be perfect."

Thomas laughed on the other end, causing every hair to stand up on the back of her neck.

"Oh no sweetheart. I'm going to give you Rowe's accomplice so you can come out an play."

Short… I know… sorry!

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