Ripple

By: Raven612

Chapter 5: Puzzle Pieces

Summary: Lestrade has found some interesting information and Moriarty begins to taunt Sherlock.

A/N: I am so very sorry that updating this story has taken so long! My laptop is still being repaired. I am lost without it, but I could not hold back any longer so I broke down and am using my parent's laptop to update. The twins really are a terror and they needed to get out again. Well, enough of that go on and read and please review! As an author reviews are my life's blood!

*Evening of day 3*

John's face very nearly resembled a plump tomato, Sherlock thought as he sat in his chair staring up at his partner. John hadn't been home for more than ten minutes before Anna, whom had pinkie promised Sherlock she'd never tell John, spilled her guts to her uncle. Needless to say, John was furious.

"You took them to a crime scene, they saw the bodies, and how is that okay in your mind?" the doctor snapped. He was keeping his voice, or was attempting to keep his voice even so that he didn't frighten the children, but Sherlock figured he had about two more minutes until he lost control of the pitch.

Sherlock kept his face a well schooled mask of indifference, he really didn't see why John was so upset, he tilted his head to the side; he was still trying to decipher the message with the bodies.

"Sherlock! Do not tune me out," John ordered and stepped into the consulting detective's personal space.

Sherlock finally rolled his head and blinked as he looked up at John, "Oh please John, you've observed them now since you've been home, do they seem to be suffering any ill effects?" he asked with a raised brow and a slight smirk.

John gaped and blinked before he seemed to regain his speech, "Wh-how is that even relevant…they are only four years old and they saw murder victims!"

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, he really didn't like when the doctor felt the need to repeat details over and over again, "Obviously I know their ages John, give them more credit. James didn't see a thing; he's much too afraid to and Anna…well she's inquisitive and adventurous and she didn't see…much," Sherlock offered hoping to at least appease the shorter man standing before him. He even added a smile; John usually seemed to like his smiles.

A smile didn't seem to work this time. John's lips drew tight over his teeth before he turned away from Sherlock, "You just don't understand the principle of the situation Sherlock. Little kids are not equipped mentally to handle traumatic images like that," the doctor sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face as he deflated onto the sofa.

Sherlock forced himself not to roll his eyes. He turned his head to look over at John, the doctor seemed to have given up the battle and Sherlock was not in the mood to continue so he didn't respond to John. He let a comfortable silence hang between them for a moment as he pulled a picture of the bodies and the message up on his phone. He glanced over to John, he seemed more relaxed now. Sherlock sat up and held his phone out, "What do you make of this?" he asked quietly; testing the waters as it were.

John's head snapped up and around to look at Sherlock. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but shut it and took the phone. He turned it to face him and tilted his head. He scrolled through the pictures Sherlock had. He flinched a bit seeing the carnage and then handed it back. Sherlock raised a brow.

"Well it looks like what you said; modern day Jack the Ripper…besides that I'm not sure what's meant by the message. Has Lestrade contacted you about the women and their families?" John asked and flicked his gaze towards the kitchen where the twins were coloring and waiting for supper.

Sherlock frowned, "Not yet but I'm expecting him to any minute now. I sent him the names and profiles of the three women. They have nothing in common there. Two of them worked for the same agency. Outside of that, depending on the family histories, there isn't much to go on besides the message."

John nodded, "I don't know why you even ask me anymore about what I see Sherlock…obviously I'm not going to see everything you do," he mumbled.

Sherlock frowned and pocketed his phone, he hated when John decided to take himself down a peg. "I disagree John. You do see things, things I can sometimes look over. You pick out the obvious where I look for the deeper things. Sometimes it's the obvious that I miss because I want to dive too deep. Besides John…you're still a mystery to me," Sherlock told him with a grin and rose from his chair. He walked over to where the doctor sat on the sofa. He bent at his hips and pressed a light kiss to John's lips before straightening again. He ran his fingers through John's hair.

John breathed out contently and closed his eyes for a moment, "Thank you Sherlock," he breathed and smiled.

Sherlock grinned again and nearly jumped as the vibrations from his pocket startled him. He pulled his hand back from John and turned as he checked the message from Lestrade. He frowned and furrowed his brows.

John rose from the sofa and moved to stand a few feet from Sherlock, he knew the look on his face; it was when he received information that didn't seem to line up in his brain, "So, what did Lestrade find?"

Sherlock tapped out a quick reply and turned to John, "Well it's not what I had expected, but each of the girls had an older sibling who now lives in America. Odd, to be linked by a sibling who lives in America, but what about going crazy, where does that tie in?" Sherlock began to pace.

John smiled. He recognized this; this was when Sherlock was in full deduction mode. Nothing could interrupt him now. With a slight shake of his head John turned to leave the man to do what he did best.

Anna looked up from her picture as her uncle entered the kitchen. She grinned at him, "Uncle John, look what I drew," she called to him and set her pink crayon down.

John, thankful for the distraction, moved to stand next to her so that he could examine what she had drawn. He tilted his head as he attempted to make out the childish drawing. It more or less looked like a bunch of scribbles. He furrowed his brows, "It looks exquisite Anna dear," he told her and flashed a smile.

Anna looked up at him and frowned, "You don't even know what it is!" she protested with a 'humph.'

James snickered and snuck a peek at his sister's drawing, "It looks stupid," he retorted and set his blue crayon down.

Anna glared at him and picked up her pink crayon again, "It does not, it's a picture of Mother and Mummy," she snapped and added something to her picture.

James snorted and reached over with his blue crayon to add a scribble, "It's ugly," he teased.

John quickly took their crayons as he could see where this was headed, "James, Anna, we are not going to start a fight at the kitchen table over colors. Both of your pictures are wonderful. Go wash up while I clean up your mess," he instructed them and shooed them away before they could snatch up any other colors and begin marking each other.

"Is not a stupid picture, you're stupid," Anna said in protest as she slid down from her chair and stuck her tongue out.

"Am not!" James snapped with a frown and jumped from his chair.

"I said no fighting," John reminded them sternly as he put the crayons back into their boxes.

James and Anna shot him a glare before leaving the room. They continued to bicker as they went to the bathroom.

Sherlock paid no mind to the goings on in the kitchen because he had bigger fish to fry. He'd pulled a few books from his shelf and scrolled through a few different sites but couldn't seem to come up with much to help decipher the message. He sighed and rubbed his hands through his curls. He looked around the flat hoping that something would just appear to help him. All three women had a sibling in America. 'Brothers and sisters' must obviously mean America as in the country, but what about the going mad bit. America was at war but so were other countries. This didn't seem to be a terrorist attack, so what then? Sherlock growled low in his throat as he paced and suddenly he heard a chime. His head shot up. He hadn't heard that particular noise in months. He quickly looked around the flat to make sure John wasn't around. Sherlock scrambled over to the mantel and lifted the skull. He picked up the pink phone. He had one new text message. He opened it.

Wonder how long it will take you to figure this out Sherlock; didn't take you for the type to play house either. I've just been reading a rather interesting book of late and thought you might like it as well :)
JM

Sherlock blinked. The killings were based off of a book. His brows furrowed. He set the phone back down and started to scan his shelves. He had only one book on Jack the Ripper so he pulled it down. He went to his armchair and plopped down. He hadn't read the book. It was a gift from one of his former clients. He didn't particularly find the book or the man intriguing. He started on the first page and started to scan for anything to do with America.

An hour later and Sherlock still had nothing substantial to go on, just that the author if the book suggested that an American doctor who was also a painter is highly suspected of committing the heinous crimes. Somehow Sherlock didn't think Moriarty….no; correction, Sherlock knew Moriarty wouldn't copy Jack; it was too pedestrian. Sherlock snapped the book shut and tossed it over his shoulder, and sank his elbows to his knees. He clutched either side of his head in frustration. There are literally thousands and thousands of books Moriarty could be reading and gleaning his inspiration from. Sherlock cursed himself up and down for not being able to think of one single book he could go to out of the many he had logged in his hard-drive.

"You look like how I feel when working on a case with you," John muttered as he slid a plate of bangers and mash on the table next to Sherlock.

Sherlock glared at the floor, "Why can't I bloody well figure out his message?" he snapped.

John slid a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze, "Eat your dinner Sherlock, the answer will come to you, it always does," John reassured him before walking back to the kitchen to make sure the twins kept their potatoes on their plates and not on themselves or the kitchen.

Sherlock had reached one conclusion. He would venture to the local bookstore and find whatever books he could on American serial killers. Obviously Moriarty was inspired by a man…or woman that killed prostitutes. The killer would have to be wealthy and above average intelligence to snag the interest of one James Moriarty. Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped out a message to Lestrade. He would need to see the reports on the women's siblings in the states. He wanted to know if they were scattered about or living in the same area. Sherlock was pretty confident that the siblings were living in the same area, but he needed to be sure. After he was sure of this he could begin searching for the right book.

"Uncle John look, I need to start shaving just like you and Uncle Lock!" Anna cheered as she pointed to the foamy beard she gave herself with the bubble bath.

John smirked, "That's quite the beard Anna dear, what have you been eating?" he teased and eased himself back to rest on the balls of his feet in his crouched position next to the tub.

James finished constructing a hat and grinned as he turned to John, "Lookit Uncle John, I could be a cabbie! Or a firefighter or a policeman!" James announced and clapped his hands.

Anna frowned and swiped her hand through James' bubble hat, "That's stupid," she snorted at him.

John frowned and opened his mouth to scold her when James slapped his hand against the water and sent it spraying all over the three of them. Anna yelped and jumped back before she sloshed both of her hands through the water and caused John to be liberally doused. Soon the twins began to yell at one another.

"You're a pig James!"

"Stop being such a prat Anna."

"You smell awful!"

"Your hair stinks!"

"You're ugly."

"You're uglier!"

"You're the ugliest!"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!"

Each insult was delivered with a splash. By this point John has raised himself to his feet and grabbed a towel to dab against himself. He frowned, "James and Annabelle! You two will stop bickering at once!" he snapped and glared hard at both of them.

Each child had a hand out stretched to splash the other, but John's voice stopped them. Anna blinked and smacked the water splashing James, her gaze never leaving John's. John glared, "He started it," she protested and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout.

John sank back down to his knees, "I don't care who started it. I am stopping it. No telly for either of you for the next two days."

Both children whined and sagged into the water. John grinned, he was rather proud of himself for the punishment he had come up with. Now that the twins were subdued and in sour moods John could finished up their bath properly and get them to bed. Their daycare would be open again tomorrow so John didn't have to worry about another crime scene incident.

John yawned wide as he stepped into his and Sherlock's bedroom. His gray pajama bottoms hung loose on his hips and dipped deliciously low. He hadn't bothered with a shirt. As he moved into the bedroom he could make out the gangly form of Sherlock lying on his back with his hands clasped over his stomach. John grinned. He knew Sherlock wouldn't be sleeping, but John loved having him there all the same. He also enjoyed the way Sherlock's silver gaze followed him as he walked around to his side of the bed.

"It's really not too late to bring them to a shelter John," Sherlock said as the older man slipped under the covers next to him.

John settled himself into bed before he dignified Sherlock's words with a response, "No," was all he said.

Sherlock frowned and settled himself under the covers as well. He really did think well when he had his body pressed up against John's. He could feel the heat radiating off of the smaller man and his heartbeat calmed him.

"So, figure anything out with the case then?" John inquired with a yawn and settled his head on Sherlock's shoulder, his azure gaze soft on Sherlock's.

"The killer is not a modern day Jack the Ripper but rather he is inspired by someone else, someone in a book. I do also know that they seem to be inspired by an American serial killer. The phrase, 'Our brothers and sisters have gone mad.' Cleary relates to America…brothers and sisters and each of the victims have a sibling who is living in the states now," Sherlock informed John.

John grinned, "Sounds like you're looking for an American psycho," he teased and tipped his head up to kiss Sherlock's chin, "at least pretend to get some rest tonight Sherlock," John said and wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist and pulled him tightly to himself.

Sherlock hummed a response and bent his head to press a kiss into John's feather soft hair. "Goodnight John," he answered.

A/N: So…what do you think? It is a short chapter, sorry about that, but it is moving the story along. Sherlock is so very close to figuring out the book…and I'm sure you all have by now so you can maybe predict what will come next…given you've read the book…which is very gruesome…anyways, no beta or Brit-pick so please excuse all and any errors as mine. I did try and fix what I saw, but any I missed let me know! Review please!