Chapter 4: Step by step

"Bad man!" Bell shouted as she pointed to the paper. "Bad man!" The little girl hid more in Mrs. Hudson's chest and she hugged her trying to calm her down, however, she was completely scared. "Magnussen..." Sherlock whispered amazed.

"Darling, what's going on?" Mrs. Hudson asked desperately. Feeling the atmosphere flood in panic, Mrs. Hudson, not hearing an answer from Sherlock, turned to see him and he had a lost look, but in those green eyes the fear was distinguished. The detective ignored Mrs Hudson's call and walked over to his couch to sit down and put his hands under his chin, began to feel a strong pressure on his shoulders and back, which strongly gouged his; his breath had become a little agitated and he noticed his hands trembling lightly. He quickly brought them to his lips to avoid that sensation, but it was impossible to hide it.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" He kept mute, all he did was move his eyes and resume his sight to nothing. "Sherlock?" She repeated worried while rising from the ground with the little one still in her arms.

The little girl kept up with Mrs. Hudson and when she got up, she moved her face to saw the detective. In those moments of stillness and that the only sound was Sherlock's agitated breath, they heard a knock on the door. Mrs Hudson separated a little from the girl and took her from her cheeks gently to look at her.

"I have to answer the door," she said, and Bell stared at her. "I won't be long, okay?"

With her face still red from the screams and the veins of her temples relaxing, the girl gulped down her sobs and nodded. Mrs. Hudson smiled nervously and dropped her hands off the girl's face, Bell stared at her until she stepped out of the place and looked back at the detective, who was still breathing that hard and trembling in his hands that did not seem to control himself. He closed his eyes and deep inside he was looking for a way to look as serene as possible.

Bell turned to see the newspaper with Magnussen's photograph and took it, approached the detective, calculating the distance, she needed to be at and was less than two inches from his personal space.

"Bad man," she repeated as she showed him the photograph. Sherlock managed to inhale very deeply and feeling his lungs filled with air, and noticing that his hands had relaxed, he exhaled terribly. "Where do you know Magnussen from?" he asked, as he finished blowing the air out.

"Mom... She..." the girl babbled, looking for the right words to say, but she could not "Work... Bad man."

Sherlock opened his eyes and seriously observed that child. She was thoughtful and knew she would not respond exactly; this time her fingers began to move, causing the girl to feel rushed and he did not tolerate. He despaired, snatched his newspaper sheet, and showed her the photograph.

"How do you know Magnussen?" he demanded furiously. "He couldn't murder your mother because I killed him four weeks ago and your mother died three weeks ago, so this doesn't make sense unless you start talking."

Bell saw the detective with big eyes, and he kept that paper raised in front of his face. In that state, Bell looked at Magnussen's photograph and at the same time the desperate detective and, not knowing how to respond, placed her hands on her temples and moved her face to avoid that angry look of the detective.

"Shut up," Bell whispered. Sherlock heard her and frowned. "Shut up, I can't... Think..." she continued to be upset and put her hands on her ears, closed her eyes and squeezed them hard. "Shut up, shut up, shut up..."

Sherlock observed her not knowing how to react, tried to relax his frown, and looked at that girl who was beginning to get upset. What could he do? How should he act? What did John do in the cases he put himself that way? Now he too was beginning to get frustrated. In those moments, like a miracle, Mrs. Hudson arrived at his flat and was accompanied by Lestrade and Donovan. And for those seconds Sherlock thanked fate, even if he did not believe in it.

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked and moved his greyish green eyes towards the entrance.

"What?" he growled.

"We have brought you the rest of the cases in Northampton," spoke Lestrade, who was carrying a box of files, and he observed those two curiously.

Even with that expression of fury mixed with fear, Sherlock pulled down the sheet of the newspaper and stood up from the couch to look at everyone present in his living room; Bell was still in the same position and she did not whisper those words anymore.

"What about that child?" Donovan questioned. "What does she do with the freak?"

Upon hearing the last question, Bell opened her eyes and slowly removed her hands from her temples.

"Sergeant," he warned as she turned to look at him, "later I'll explain the situation. Now, if you would be so kind as to bring the rest of the reports," Donovan with an arched eyebrow, laid her eyes on Sherlock who still had that expression on his face that did not inspire confidence, at least in her. Sherlock looked at her until he also arched his eyebrow, as a challenge. "Donovan?" Lestrade asked to upset and she, reluctantly obeyed him.

She turned around and retired from the living room.

Lestrade left a box on the ground and quickly approached the two.

"Is she fine?" he asked worried.

Sherlock did not respond; all he did was put his hands behind his back and walk to the first box they left. Lestrade approached Bell, took her delicately by the shoulders, and she, feeling those hands gave a slight shout and saw the inspector who was surprised by his reaction.

"Are you okay?" he questioned worried as he removed his hands.

Bell did not answer. He turned to look at Sherlock, who had his back to them, and Mrs. Hudson approached them.

"You know? I had better take Bell to the kitchen; we watch some TV and eat some nice biscuits. What do you think, honey?" asked with a smile as she wore her eyes with her.

"You should have done that a while ago, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock responded as he read the informs.

Lestrade sighed bitterly and she frowned.

"Come on, sweetheart, let these two works," and she took her shoulders and started walking.

Donovan arrived with another box of files and nearly stumbled upon Mrs. Hudson and the girl. Frightened she stepped aside, apologizing and the two continued to walk, however, Bell stopped and turned to see her. The little one looked at her furiously, her eyes almost gave out how she was killing her, and she got the sergeant surprised by the little one's murderous gaze. Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson observed confused that moment, instead, Sherlock ignored them, but an immense surprise came when he heard the girl tell Donovan, with much contempt:

"You are the freak."

Upon hearing those words, Sherlock paused to read the reports and raised his head but did not turn to see them. Donovan opened her eyes wide without being able to conceal the surprise on her face, her mouth had remained open before those words that, without a doubt, she had said them with hatred.

Mrs Hudson approached the girl and grabbed her shoulders so she could get her out of there. Bell agreed to her action and they both left the detective's apartment. Scare, Donovan turned to look at Lestrade, whose eyes also seemed to be out of orbit.

"Why the hell did she tell me that?" she asked annoyingly, as she moved her eyes with Sherlock in search of an answer.

This one was freeze. Those words that little girl uttered had fallen on him like a bucket of cold water and, without believing it, had penetrated his bones. But why did he feel that? No, the real question was, why did she defend him? "I'm talking to you!" Donovan exclaimed. Sherlock stood his ground.

"Sergeant, enough," Lestrade exploded and she turned to look at him with a crooked grin. "That is all for today Donovan, thanks for the help. You may return to Scotland Yard." All Donovan did was sigh with a lot of bitterness, tuck her jacket in and walk out of that place, not without first looking at Sherlock. "Do you now have a new watchdog? Who would have thought? Holmes, being defended by a little girl," she mentioned hurtfully as she folded her arms. "Donovan!" Lestrade shouted. She looked at him from the corner of her eye.

Sherlock turned to look at the sergeant and, in a tone so neutral and not so worthy of him, said: "Thank you... for the files."

Donovan was speechless, this time she did not come up with any more arguments to discuss with Sherlock, as he did not seem to have cared about what happened; he looked so indifferent. Yes, it was common in him to be so, yet his indifference was questionable to that of other times, he seemed indifferent to what happened. "Your arsehole, Holmes," she retorted and hurried out of the place.

The detective saw her leave, Lestrade sighed fed up and decided to approach him to help with the Northampton files.

John looked at Mycroft in panic. The eldest of the Holmes rose to prepare another cup and observed the doctor. "More tea? It'll help with your nerves."

Having heard the words, John shook his head and tried to return to the reality he was in, looked at Mycroft pour himself the tea from that beautiful porcelain teapot and could see how he was completely calm at what he had just said.

"Mycroft," he moved his eyes toward him, "What you just told me," he said nervously. "Is that true? Bell's mother... did she work for Magnussen?"

"Would I lie to you?" he asked amusingly.

"B…but... How...? No, no, no," he babbled. "When? That would be the most appropriate question."

"Well, I wouldn't consider it the most appropriate question," He resumed its place. "But please, Doctor Watson, take your seat again and let me finish telling you this story."

Obeying him, John returned to the couch, looked at all the papers in the file and took the one where Mycroft said that she had worked for Magnussen. "Samara Jones," he continued, "worked for Magnussen for a period of four months, a year and a half ago if I'm not mistaken. It wasn't too long..."

"Then," he interrupted, "as she left that job, Janine came in as Magnussen's secretary."

"I think," the eldest of the Holmes said as if nothing and drank his tea again.

"But why would she quit that job? It was a good pay to be able to support her and Bell."

"That cannot be answered, Doctor Watson. Magnussen probably realized what kind of person she was and fired her. That could be logical." John Watson was thoughtful for a few moments and then took his still surprising look at Mycroft, who was still so calm with his tea party. "And you think Sherlock won't be interested in solving this case?"

When he heard that question, he lowered his cup and seriously observed his brother's sidekick.

"Doctor Watson, I know Sherlock perfectly. I know he will. But as I told you, he has an important matter to resolve with England. Save it from James Moriarty. So, as far as we are concerned, and as a suggestion, you will tell Sherlock that that woman was murdered for matters between terrorists and case closed."

John's eyes opened wide, and all he could do was grimace of strangeness.

"Sorry?" he asked without believing it. "You want me to lie to Sherlock?"

"Exactly," and he went back to drinking his tea. "Ha! Are you hearing yourself, Mycroft?" John said with a sarcastic smile. "Do you want me to lie to Sherlock?! About a case?! Please!"

"You will manage this, Doctor Watson. Now if you will excuse me, teatime is over, and I have unfinished business."

Mycroft placed the cup in front of the table that separated them, took the papers, and put them back in that file. John saw him with enormous rage, and he do not hesitate to speak. "What about the child? She saw her mother die; at any moment she can tell us everything."

"Don't worry about it, we will soon send you to child services to take the case, and it is so clear to you and to my, Doctor Watson, that the little one will not be able to speak. You know it yourself," Mycroft straightened out to intimidate John, "With the emotional shock to which she has been affected, I doubt she can put together more than five words and with consistency," he ended with a smile, so worthy of hitting him in the face.

John looked Mycroft and his courage went beyond colossal, wondering how he had not hit him. The Doctor admired his self-control, but it was a terrible thing for him not to be able to help Bell. She came looking for help, they could not refuse her, and besides, Sherlock had already said yes. However, there were certain truths in what Mycroft had just told him.

"Good morning, Doctor Watson," he bid farewell despotically and left his little lair, leaving him with his thoughts.

Sherlock and Lestrade kept digging through the files, but nothing about a murder in the last four weeks came up. It all went to simple robberies, which Sherlock solved in no time; one or the other case of poisoning, also solved, to which he summed up some as suicide, yet nothing involved a cold-blooded murder.

"All this is strange," Lestrade sighed as he placed the box on the table.

"There must be something," Sherlock eagerly released.

"I think it's useless," Lestrade continued, but the detective ignored him. "There's nothing in the records."

"No, there has to be something. Such a murder could not go unnoticed, although..."

Sherlock stood still and a lost look appeared. Lestrade frowned curiously, but not surprised by the detective's sudden reaction.

He remained in the same position, with his eyes half closed and he was sunk in his mind. Lestrade stood beside him and observed with curiosity, knowing that something was going on in that head. Suddenly Sherlock took his cell phone out of his coat and dialled a number with a lot of anxiety.

"Who are you calling?" Lestrade asked, but he ignored him.

John Watson, who was in a taxi heading for Baker Street, had his phone in hand and had just heard the voice mail Sherlock had left him earlier. For Sherlock to decide to talk to him instead of texting him, the situation was serious. He felt at that moment his phone vibrated and noticed, with no wonder, who was calling him.

"Sherlock," he replied somewhat seriously.

"You told him about the girl, didn't you?" he asked a little annoyingly.

"Oh, Sherlock! Give me five minutes. I'm almost there and I'll explain everything."

"Why? I do not have five minutes. You can tell me right now."

John sighed bitterly as he laid his hand upon his face, to bring out his despair.

"Sherlock," he spoke more seriously, " I shouldn't be long. Once there, I can explain things to you more calmly, okay?"

Silence, it was the only thing that came out of the other side of the line. John was surprised to hear absolutely nothing, to such an extent that he thought he had hung up on him, but no. He just remained silent.

"Sherlock?"

"Why did Mycroft ask you to lie to me?" he snapped out of nowhere and John's eyes opened, surprisingly.

"Sorry?"

"What you heard. Why did Mycroft ask you to?"

"Sherlock!" he exclaimed nervous.

"Mycroft sent for you, it was obvious that he knew of the girl's arrival. You sounded very frustrated and now you are nervous, it is likely that whatever you talked to him upset you. And by the way you answer, he asked you to keep me away from this case; he told you to lie to me to be totally focused on Moriarty."

Now the silence came from John's side. And did Mycroft really want him to lie to Sherlock?

"Sherlock..." sounded serene.

"See you in 14 minutes. Not five," and hung up.

Sherlock hang his phone out and saw Lestrade who seemed confused about the matter.

"Everything, all right?"

"No," he replied with a smile and walked over all the scattered newspapers and made too much fuss with them.

Mrs. Hudson and Bell, who were in the kitchen watching the TV, could hear the immense noise of the newspapers. The woman sighed wearily and rose from the chair to pour herself some coffee.

John arrived at the apartment and entered the place as quickly as he could. Perceiving the scandal that John made, Mrs. Hudson and Bell came out of the kitchen and saw the Doctor rush up the steps. Bell remained curious and Mrs. Hudson carried her hands on the child's shoulders.

"Don't be scared," she said with a smile, "it's so normal to see them come and go like that, but maybe they've discovered something about your case. You want to go ask them?"

She looked at her strangely for a few seconds and her response was to nod.

The doctor came to the floor and looked at Sherlock sitting on his sofa, in his typical pose with his hands under his chin, looking at nothing and looked at all the chaos that the apartment was. It was not unusual to see too many newspapers folded and made balls everywhere, but he did not expect that.

"And Lestrade?" John asked with a nervous smile.

"At Scotland Yard," without seeing him, he replied seriously.

"Has he brought you the files?" he sought to evade the subject, but the detective did not answer. "Sherlock!" he exclaimed surrendered as he approached him.

"Don't take another step," he demanded in a bitter tone.

John stopped just under a meter from him.

"What did Mycroft tell you? Exactly," Sherlock asked as he turned to see him.

"Ah...! Well...!"John jabbered very nervous and took his gaze to the wall, discovering that a newspaper was stuck to the wall and was a photograph of Magnussen.

John could not hide his surprise and walked to the wall to observe better and know if his eyes were not deceiving him.

"Sherlock, why do you have Magnussen's photograph?"

The detective refused to answer, only saw him from the corner of his eye. At that moment Bell and Mrs. Hudson entered and Sherlock took their serious sight with them in which John did not stop looking at the photograph.

"We came to know, how are things with Bell's case?"

Sherlock continued with his serious posture and John, returning to the moment, turned to look at the two curious ladies saw them.

"Well..."

"John has discovered something new," Sherlock replied seriously and he looked at him surprised.

"What?"

"You see, honey," Mrs. Hudson said with a smile as she held Bell in her arms. "I told you they must know something by now, they're so fast," and the little one half smiled.

"But..." John continued to speak worried "But what does Magnussen's picture do on the wall?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Hudson. "Bell found it in the paper and started yelling at him that he was the bad man."

"Bad man?" he asked strangely.

"John," Sherlock interrupted. "It would be good if you started talking."

A/N:

Thanks so much for reading. I will be deeply grateful with any comments, constructive criticism, opinions and / or suggestions :3