The hospital was bustling with activity. News crews, police officials turning away news crews, the general hospital staff - people rushing about mindlessly following orders, following routine. Sherlock scoffed at them. Crowds of nurses, of doctors, people of supposedly higher intellect and advanced education, refusing to use their minds to see what was in front of them. Or, in his case, in the midst of them. He had not found much use for disguises, not at first, but they were vital to him now, his professionally fake mustache, wrinkles, and salt and pepper hair keeping the attention of the crowds away from him. He had other help, though, in the form of Niles Cohen's one female survivor.
He watched from the hallway as Lestrade entered the woman's room, reading happy-again marriage into his properly ironed shirt and new watch. No one seemed to notice him, or to care that he was there - a particularly pleasant perk of his chosen costume. Even the DI had glanced his way upon approaching the room, but hadn't given him more than a hurried good morning. Pushing his props - a misappropriated cleaner's cart and mop - closer to the door he peered inside, eyes narrowing as he spotted the familiar profile of one weary-looking John Watson hovering at the elbow of the slim figure that must have belonged to the young surgeon.
"Do you remember his face at all, miss? Any distinguishing features?" Lestrade was asking. Sherlock's mouth twitched. Lip-reading was, as always a very useful skill, and he was constantly glad to have picked it up. He only wished the detective inspector would say something important.
The young woman on the bed was harder to read, her lips moving only slightly, haltingly. Sherlock confessed himself perplexed. The woman read like a victim - traumatized, shy, broken. She seemed to retreat into herself every time the detective inspector spoke, avoiding eye contact with all - except for Niles Cohen. Sherlock frowned as he observed them. The woman, clinging so fervently to her surgeon's hand like it was a lifeline. The surgeon, holding her tenderly, hands like a baby's cradle, stroking, soothing. Was she frightened of him? Had he threatened her? No - Sherlock scrutinized her face, her body language through the glass. There was legitimate trust, almost intimacy between them - in the way she held him close to her, the way she hid behind him. Legitimate trust. Interesting.
"Please, miss, anything that would help us catch him. Anything that'll keep this from happening again."
"Inspector, please. Miss Puckett has been through a terrible time. Couldn't this wait? Even a day or two - " Sherlock scoffed at the surgeon. What a transparent display of concern. Everyone else would be fooled, of course - the boy's expression was exquisitely crafted. He was buying more time for himself, of course - No, that isn't right at all, he told himself. Why would she be here at all, unless he wanted her to be?
"Wait - wait, please!"
The men in the room were startled. Sherlock focused his attention on the woman, whose eyes held a weak determination. She gave her surgeon's hand a squeeze, and he returned the gesture.
"I-I want to help," she was saying. "I don't want… it to happen again…"
Lestrade nodded and took out his notepad.
"Whenever you're ready, Miss Puckett."
In the next few moments it became increasingly clear to Sherlock why Niles had allowed the woman to live, allowed her to come to the police. It was clear from the description she gave, an exact portrait of one of the other missing persons. False information, Sherlock hissed to himself. He's leading them to the wrong man.
Sherlock looked up from the woman on the bed, held his breath as he found himself locking eyes with the young surgeon. He lowered his face, staring up at Niles Cohen from underneath the janitor's cap he'd procured for the situation.
I know who you are, he said to him. The boy's face smiled at him. It was not a lay-man's smile, not a pleasant greeting. It was the smirk of a predator, Sherlock had seen many like it, and it was unmistakable. Sherlock was certain - he had to get him away from John.