What's this? A surprise update? Oh thank you Ginger Midget! Thank You!

You're welcome.

So, here's the third chapter. Enjoy.

Scotland Yard was buzzing as usual. John was surprised to see someone actually standing still. Lestrade saw her too.

"What the-"he waved down a passing policeman. "Bob! I thought I told you to take the bleedin' girl home!"

"I did." Said the policeman. "She lives in a foster home. When we got there, the woman was screamin' and wavin' her arms about where the hell she had been. It didn't seem like a safe environment, so I told her to grab her things and that I was takin' her to the station. I'm sorry Inspector, but it seemed like the right thing to do."

Lestrade sighed. Dang him and his soft heart. "You did the right thing Bob." He started to walk away. "Have someone look into this," he called over his shoulder.

They passed Sargent Donovan's desk. "The freak is in your office."

"What?"

Indeed, Sherlock was there. He was dressed, cleaned, and staring out the window.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade said. "How did you get here?"

"Shortcut," he murmured./

"Oh."

"The witness has already been talked to?"

"Yes."

"Good. I want to speak to her now."

"What? Why?"

Sherlock turned and gave Lestrade a look that clearly said You're questioning my abilities?

Lestrade sighed. "Fine. Just don't scare her."

Sherlock smirked and left the office.

She's been orphaned recently-within the last year. There's a photo sticking out of the corner of her duffel.

Name: Kailey Williams. It's still visible on the coat and duffle in black marker despite being worn out.

Her shoes are a size to small.

She doesn't want to get in the way. That's why she's studying the gun chat. Particularly two of them.

He stood next to her. "Have you figured it out yet?"

"I think so," she looked at him. "Are you part of the police?"

"No. But I do need to talk to you." He turned and walked back to the office. Kailey slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and followed.

Lestrade was sitting behind his desk and John had sat himself in one of the extra chairs. Kailey sat in the corner, her coat draped over her lap. Sherlock pulled a seat behind Lestrde's desk, next to the window.

"So," Sherlock said, settling back into his chair. 'Would you mind reiterating what happened this morning?"

"Well," Kailey sighed. "Ms. Koaster, our foster mom, was yelling at Sammy, one of the younger kids. I told her to stop, and she told me get out of the house.'

"Wrong."

"What?"

"You're not telling us everything."

"Yes I am."

"Ms. Koaster slapped you. Your cheek is still red from where she hit you."

"It is?" Kailey turned to look at her reflection in the window.

"She slapped you?" Lestrade asked.

Kailey turned back and nodded. "Yeah."

"Why haven't you told anyone?" John asked.

"Aaron said that he used to call Child Services, but they never did anything. He's been there the longest."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Would you continue, please?"

"So, after she slapped me-and said a few choice words-she told me to get out of the house. I did, and I went for a walk. I was going down Flanary and the street was covered in snow, since its all abandoned buildings and so nobody clears it away. There was this guy standing in the middle of the street looking up at one of the buildings. I kept walking on the sidewalk. After a few minutes, I heard a gunshot and the guy fell down. So I called the police and stayed where I was. I didn't touch anything. Honest."

There was a short pause as the three men contemplated different things. John spoke first.

"Um-Have you walked down Flanary before?"

Kailey shook her head. 'Once or twice, but not consistently."

"You said there was no entry wound on the body?" Sherlock asked Lestrade.

"Yes, that's right."

"What do you mean?" Kailey asked. "I heard a gunshot."

"Maybe it was a stroke." John said.

"Then where does the gunshot come in? Huh? I'm not imagining this."

Lestrade sighed. "We'll go see. The body should be ready examination anyway." The three men stood up and got ready to leave.

"I'm coming with you." Kailey stood up.

"No, you're not," Lestrade faced her. "You're stayin' here, in my office, until I get back." He walked toward the door. "Don't touch anything."

He passed Donovan's desk. "Keep an eye on her," he muttered.

Donovan rolled her eyes.

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