"Another one. Sherlock, let's go."
"I know," I say, stepping back from the wall of photos. "I know who he is and what he's going to do, I just can't get to his whereabouts. I'm sure there's some reason to it and-" I examine another photo, taking it down and pacing.
"Sherlock, Come on. You might find something new."
"Not likely. He's very consistent Unless he's messed up. I hope so. Why are you waiting around John?"
John rolls his eyes as I run down the stairs "Coat. It's freezing out there." Hethrows the coat over me and I pull it on, getting into the cab.
"How do you do that?" John mutters as I give the cabbie directions and hunch over my phone, looking at weather patterns.
The car pulls up, and there are still police cars surrounding the block of flats, good, Lestrade called us early. Hopefully, those idiots in forensics won't have messed anything up. They say they don't touch anything, but they do. None of them see the importance of an angle that a door was left open. When we get in, (after some shouts for me to leave) I get straight to the body and Lestrade kicks some new officer out. John's stopped off, putting on gloves. I turn in the room; the body is exactly how I thought, sprawled with the hands set above the head, put there after rigor mortis, in prayer. I turn and examine the room, last time there had been an indent-Oh for god's sake. That's a baby crying.
I can't concentrate with that noise. John's here now, leant over the body. "There were screams heard this time," he mutters, Lestrade may have told me but I usually just blank him out.
"Why is there a child?"
"Oh, yeah. She hid it in a drawer. Must have heard the guy coming." John puts his fingers to the neck of the victim, pressing lightly on the bruises. "Yeah, that's strangulation like the rest." He stands up, dusting his knees off. "Anything new?"
"She's a new mother, you can tell by the weight distribution on her body, the father-wait. Do they have a dog?"
"What? No, I don't know."
"They don't. Stupid. It's that noise. John, shut the thing up."
"The baby? Don't refer to it like that. It's mother's just been killed. She probably heard her dying screams."
"Uhm. Tell someone to get me a stepladder while you're making it quiet. I want to look on top of that cupboard."
"Yeah…" John sounds annoyed. Oh well. No time for that now. I'll fix it later.
I check the rest of the room while I wait, and though the baby is now quiet, John's not back. There! I take a box (it should hold) and stand in it, Ah, yes the layer of dust is disturbed, there was something here. Last time, an ornament was taken and this seems to have been something similar, strange. It would be very noticeable. The woman hadn't unlocked the door and the murdered must have come in from the woman's room. I wonder why John isn't back. I head to the room. Lestrade makes some comment but I'm ignoring him. Looking out, I notice something on the ground.
Finally, there's been a mistake, a big one. The kind that the police would have been able to figure out even without me. Possibly. "Ah! Brilliant. A scarf. We have them, I'll get it, and you can find him from the DNA left, most likely he has it around his face, I think the woman must have spat a little blood, her stomach was hit pretty hard at first, he likes them on the ground before he begins. He'll be in a small flat, much like this one, the flat will be full. Mementos, he's a hoarder. May even be some bodies. Most likely in one of the east boroughs. Bye now, Hamish will be home soon, we have to get him."
I walk out, shouting for John. I think he went to one of the other flats, offered to the police when they were asking questions. "John! They're going to get him now, come on."
"Yeah…Sherlock, I might stay until the social services get here. He has a small baby, must be only a few weeks old, wrapped in his jumper. "She cries whenever I set her down or pass her over you see, I quietened her-took her off Sally- and she's been clinging to me ever since."
"You're going to have to give it up anyway, and you know after a case we-"
"Shhh, she's grizzling now. Do you think there's milk upstairs?" The baby had started moving as I spoke, crying a little and winding her hands into John's shirt.
"What about Hamish? We have to go get him from school soon."
"Martha. I rang her on the way here, you didn't notice. Go if you want."
"No John I-"
"Shhh shhh," he jiggles the baby, standing up."Could you go look for some milk? Maybe a change of clothes and a nappy too? She's not happy at all." He bounces the little bundle in his jumper, humming a little. He'snot listening now, gone into care mode.
"If you're not going up, or leaving, will you ask someone to do something? Don't just stand there."
"But John-"
"Stop acting like a child. Hold her." John plants the child in my arms and stalks off. He was just moaning that it would start crying if he left. Obviously, that isn't happening. The baby seems quiet, though it looks a little startled. The old woman that lives here must have left; she has heart problems judging by the planned pout diet on the fridge and the pills in the container next to the TV. We might be here for a while. Lestrade comes in and says he's leaving, that John's upstairs now looking for clothes.
"Why has he left me with this?"
"How should I know? He's your husband, plus you're good with your own kid, he knows you'll be fine. Probably doesn't trust this lot." He leaves, taking his phone out. Not for the case, this is personal. He's having problems with his daughter. I think John told me something about that. This is boring.
I move, and the baby makes a noise in protest. "Shhhh," I go to the foot of the stairs to shout for John. He doesn't reply but I hear steps. Good I can get rid of the child. It's too small for me to have put it down anywhere, and I have a feeling John would have gotten mad.
"Okay, back, you can stop moaning," John says, dropping a bag on the sofa. "Put this in the microwave?"
"Can't the social workers do this? What's the point?"
"She's hungry now."
"What about all the stuff in that bag? You could have stayed here and I wouldn't have had to be bored. And we could even be on our way home by now."
"I said stop moaning." John sighs and I take the bottle from the microwave, automatically testing the temperature on my skin. "See, you care enough to test the temperature of that for her."
"A reflex. I'm going upstairs and ask if I can do the post mortem, haven't in a while."
"Okay, and Sherlock…"
I stop in the doorway, John's not looking up, fixating on the guzzling baby. "I have something I want to talk about when we get home."
"Did I do something?"
"No, no. It's fine. Nothing bad." I leave, still worrying a little. Whatever he says, talks are never good. Hmmm. Again, he's gone to measures to hide his attitude, so all I can see is that he's completely calm;but this is something serious, and there's nothing that's telling me this is going to end badly, or we're going to argue.
I go upstairs anyway, but I'm refused the admittance to the post mortem. It doesn't matter, I'll just make Molly tell me when she next has a body in. I tell the officer to get out of his mother's house (because he's 40 and it's ridiculous) and leave. I can hear the baby crying already. I want to go home but it doesn't seem right to leave a finished crime scene without John.
"Bored."
"Shhhh. She's sleeping." John's stood, rocking the child gently from side to side, I'd decided to position myself upside down in the armchair, legs drained over the back.
"When will the people get here?"
"Soon, I think. They should have been here a while ago. She'll be adopted very quickly, you know, sweet little thing like her."
"Mmm." I stand up and walk in to the bedroom of the flat and begin to look through the drawers.
"Out of there, Sherlock. It's private."
"I was just double checking what I'd already guessed. It's a good exercise."
"And that's what you were doing in Greg's house with Hai yesterday?"
"Neither of us wanted to be there." I come back into the room, and John's wrapped the baby in a blanket and she's resting on his knee, I can hear her little snores.
"Hamish was just grumpy because he wanted to be at the park, you were just annoyed that you had to be there when there was a case."
"It was more important."
"He's had that party planned for months, Sherlock. Why are you in such a bad mood? You're usually so excitable when you've finished a case."
"Excitable?"
"Happy. Proud, I don't know. What's wrong?"
"I want to go home. Why do you care so much about waiting with the child?"
"You're the one acting childish, she's perfectly quiet. Just wait. I don't want to leave her, ok? She wouldn't notice now she's sleeping but I want to make sure she's okay." He shifts as he speaks and the baby stirs, he pulls it closer to his chest.
"Fine. I don't mean to…I just don't see why you're bothered by this."
"I thought you'd get it, I know it's not normal for you, but being a parent, I thought you'd see why I want to stay with her. Both her parents are dead, she needs someone to make sure she's safe, you know."
"I thought the father was just absent. I won't say anything more on the subject if it's bothering you. I think I may already know what you want to discuss later, love. And I don't think I can." John's been staring at the child so adoringly this whole time, a look of odd reminisce in his eyes. Now he's told me about the father's death (all the woman's family are absent, she's alone. It's one of the criteria of the victims). We've discussed this before, and I've already had the same view.
"But Sherlock…she has no one. And she likes me, I want someone to explain this to her when she's older, I want her to tell her about her mother, and that she was a nice woman, about the life she led." There are a lot of objects around the flat upstairs, she's travelled a lot, and I saw a box of letters in her bedroom, there are probably stories to tell.
"There are hundreds of couples looking to adopt, I'm sure we wouldn't be priority."
"Is that a yes, Sherlock?" His eyes light up and he moves forward, grabbing my hand. "Because I-"
"No." John sighs, his body sagging.
"Okay-"
"Let me finish. I do want this, another child, because it would make you happy. And I'd do anything for that, John. But I wouldn't be good enough. I can cope with Hamish, but I'm still not a good parent. To have another child, well…I think I'd be worse. I can't do that again, it changed me-for the better- having Hai, but I have no idea what to expect.I don't feel I can give as much to another child." At some point while I was speaking, the baby had stirred again, it was awake but not crying.
John's smiling a little, not something I was expecting (god, I love him, how is he still surprising me like this?) "Hold her." Before I get a chance to protest, he's put the baby in my arms. "Sherlock, loosen up, you know hold a baby." I do so and the baby makes tiny cooing noises, grapping onto the lapel of my jacket.
"She screamed when I tried to give her to 3 different officers. She's happy when you hold her."
"John, I know what you're trying to do but-"
"You're a good dad, Sherlock, I know you can do this. I know you'd be fine. You're over confident in everything, but not this, for some reason. You can treat her-or any other kid we adopt- just like Hai,"
"What if I can't?"
"I don't know where this doubt is coming from. Whatever you've conditioned yourself to think, you can love as many people as you want; it won't take anything away from the relationships you already have." John puts a hand on my face, just resting it there "You told me you didn't want Hai either, and look at that. You'll be fine."
"I want to believe you.I want to think I can change-"
"You don't need to change Sherlock, that father instinct, that caring is already there, it's just applying it to another person. Look how you're holding her, she whimpered a minute ago, and without even looking down you readjusted her blanket and began to rock her, bringing her closer to you."
"Reflex."
"Exactly."
"John…I-What's her name?" he looks surprised. He was probably expecting more of a protest, he opens his mouth, struggling with something, but simple says
"Grace." He puts an arm around me, stroking the baby's hair, until we hear a knock at the door.
"The social worker,I say, not moving.
"Pass her here," John whispers, standing up. "I'll get the number, and we'll check on her later." He buzzes the woman into the apartment (I wonder if the owner is ever coming back, we've been in here for over 2 hours).
"No,I say as soon as the woman comes into the room. She's tired, almost fell asleep on the way here, hyped up on coffee, jittery, also;she's not emotionally stable. It's not like the baby will be staying with her, but she doesn't seem to be in the right state to drive right now, and there's no way I'm letting her take the baby in that state.
"What are you talking about Sherlock? No what?" John speaks under his breath and steps forward. "Hi, I'm John. Sherlock and I were on this case, and we thought we'd stay with Grace here until you came." John takes out his wallet and shows her a pass he'd gotten for cases.
"She hasn't slept in 40, maybe 43 hours. She pulled over twice on the way here, thinking she'd lose control of the wheel. She isn't in a fit state to drive herself home, let alone the baby to a foster home."
"I-I uhm. How did you know that?" the small woman walks into the flat and John shuts the door behind her, looking worried.
"I noticed. Now, why did you think it would be appropriate to work in this condition?"
"I-I need the work. I couldn't tale another day off. It's none of your business. John-just pass the baby here, (I'll take her to the foster mother." She sighs
"Strange. You're wealthy-no, it's your parents isn't it? And you've overspent on your credit card but don't want it to show. Of course."
"Sherlock, can you do this later?" John sits down on the couch next to me and the social worker-who still hasn't introduced herself or given proof of her identity at all, how unprofessional- sits next to him. "He's just worried about her safety. Are you sure you're able to drive? One of us could take your car, with directions, and you could sleep."
"It's against regulations. I'll-"
"So is endangering the child you're supposed to be taking care of," I put in. John has woken the baby and is changing her nappy on the coffee table.
"True. I don't know what to do. I'm sorry."
"Call a colleague, maybe?" John suggests he looks into the bag and takes out warmer clothes, up until now, Grace had been wearing only a baby grow.
"Okay. Then I'll lay down for a second." John nods and picks Grace up, then puts his hand in my pocket.
"This is Sherlock's ID, by the way." She nods, on her phone already. She passes John her own and begins talking.
"Oh, can you sign this please? You're not officers but…" she's hung up, apparently her colleague is close, and she's gesturing with her clipboard at John.
"Sherlock, sign that for me? I'm kinda busy." Of course, the baby had started crying again when the woman had spoken, the noise too much for her. (she seemed fine when she's woken though, which is strange behaviour).
"Uhm. Is your co-worker a little more competent than you are?" I pass her back the signed form .
"I-" She's about to go into a whole defensive speech, but stops when she looks at me again and sighs. "She's great. I'm going to my car."
She leaves and John sighs loudly. "That wasn't appropriate, Sherlock."
"I don't care. Does she have a coat?" John grins at me. "What?"
"You kept calling her 'it' before, and you even mentioned her name then. Plus, you were very defensive. I think you're coming around."
"No. I would be worried about any child's safety."
"I know but…you like her, don't you?"
"I didn't say that. Pass me the child. You should go find a coat."
"Okay…" John's still smiling to himself. Great, now I'm going to have to discourage this again. At least, I think I want to.
The second social worker appears when John has made us both tea and the baby another bottle. This time it goes well and the child is taken to the social worker, as he promised, John gets the number of the foster mother and begins to discuss Grace's adoption. This ,of course, leads into a discussion if us adopting a child ('or Grace even' John adds in hope) and Hamish.
We leave with a pile of papers and more phone numbers. John kissed the baby goodbye and I smiled at her, when they'd gone John took my hand.
"You are definitely coming around to this. I don't care what you say, I can see it."
