I sat with a book in my lap that I was trying my hardest to read.

But it wasn't happening. I couldn't focus on the words at all.

It didn't help that the main character's name was Tara and every time I read those four letters on the pages, my mind drifted back to my best friend who was stuck in hospital and the sick bastard who put her there.

It was an understatement to say that I was pissed off.

Sherlock was out at the alleyway with John, trying to find some more evidence on Tara's attacker.

I was meant to be job hunting but... I found nothing. I felt horribly and utterly useless and for that reason I was finding myself to be rather crestfallen and more than a little annoyed with myself.

Eventually, after I had been sitting there moping for about an hour, my phone pinged. I sighed with relief and closed the book.

The screen flashed with Snapchat: Big Bro 3 sent a photo

I opened the text, rather confused as to what he'd be sending me. What stared back up at me rendered me speechless.

It was a picture of Sherlock and I, with a caption of 'Well, would you look at that'. The hug from last night. How the hell did John get a photo of that?

I typed back a semi-angry text: Where did you get that photo? KW

Before I could read his reply, my phone rang, signalling the name 'Sherlock', which covered the top half of the screen.

'Hey,' I answered.

'Hey listen, we don't have much time; I need you to do something for me, okay?' he instructed in a hushed voice.

'Yeah, sure... what's going on?' I slowly unfurled my legs from their crossed position.

'We may have a couple of leads, and I need you to send me photos of another victim's file. Normally I'd go get them myself but I need to set up a plan.'

'Oh, um, okay. What's the victim's name?' I asked as I stood up.

'His name is...' It sounded like Sherlock was unfolding a piece of paper. 'Nikolas Frederick Bassett, nicknamed Nicky. He died at age nineteen four years ago.'

'Right okay. Give me an hour, I'll probably be able to physically get them to you,' I said as I slipped my free arm in my coat sleeve.

'Thank you, Kodi. I owe you one.'

'Don't sweat it, it's cool. I'll see you later, Sherlock.' I switched the phone to my other arm and put my coat on fully.

'You too.' And then the call ended.

I exhaled slowly, went to put my shoes on, and left the house.

I read John's text as I sat in the cab.

Seems you have a sneaky landlady ;) JW

My anger melted away and my body gave way to a laugh when I discovered it was just Mrs Hudson and her soft heart.

The cab ride passed in small talk with the driver, and thoughts of what I would see in Nicky Bassett's files. Was he murdered? Suicide? Accidental death? Whatever it was, there was no way he deserved to die at such a young age: he was barely an adult when his life was taken from him.

But if Sherlock thought there was a connection between him and this case, then my best guess was murder. I shuddered as I thought what might have happened to Tara had she not called and we didn't get there in time.

The hospital had said that with three weeks of rest and a month of crutches (because the abdominal wound ran down to her hip, which meant that it stung when she moved her leg), she would be right as rain and could go back to living her life.

I paid the cabbie and walked into Bart's, where I saw Molly in her uniform exiting the lift. A stack of papers were clutched to her chest, which she took to the reception desk and handed over to the receptionist.

I walked over to her, and waited as she finished her conversation with the woman behind the desk.

'Hey, Kodi. Everything okay?' she enquired as she faced me.

'Um yeah,' I answered. 'I just need to ask a favour.'

'Okay, do you want to come into my office? We can talk about it there?'

I nodded, and we started walking. 'So, you and Sherlock seem to be getting along well?' She winked as we exited the lift on the third floor.

I sighed, rolling my eyes, mock annoyed. 'Hudders sent you the photo, too?'

'John did,' she clarified. 'This morning.'

I laughed, trying to sound malicious, but sounding rather soft. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had sent it to Tara as well.

We entered a room with a sign saying Dr Hooper, Pathologist.

'So what do you need me to do?' Molly asked as she offered me a seat.

'John filled you in on his and Sherlock's latest case, right?' I asked.

'No?'

I told her about Tara's phone call, the injuries, the attempted rape (to which I swear she flinched), the evidence, and finally, the reason for my visit.

'You do realise I'm going to be breaking a hell of a lot of policies giving you Master Bassett's files, right?' Molly queried as I ended my synopsis. She opened her filing cabinet, putting the papers from her desk into the drawer. 'I know they're needed for this case but... I can't officially give them to you.'

'Molly, please,' I begged. 'We need to catch the fuckbag who did this. I'll bring them right back after Sherlock's done with them, I promise you.'

'Kodi...'

'Please, Molly?' I pleaded.

'Look, can you ask Sherlock if you can photograph them?' she proposes. 'That way I'd be breaking a few less policies as the actual files aren't leaving the hospital.'

'He said that at first actually,' I explained. 'I just—'

'Thought you'd go and see your boyfriend, am I right?' she smirked.

I mentally face palmed. 'Put it that way if you like, Moll.' I half grinned.

'So it'll be alright to send them by photograph?'

I nodded. 'I'll ask how much of the files he needs.' I sent Sherlock a quick text.

His reply was immediate.

I'll need it all if it's possible. SH

'I'll need to take photos of all of it,' I told Molly as I shut off my phone.

'Alright, follow me.'

I followed Molly up two more floors to a room that was filled from ceiling to floor, wall to wall with shelves of boxes of files. In one of the far corners stood a small, brown table.

I gasped as we entered the room and Molly switched the overhead light on. 'Are all these files of people who have died?' I breathed, aghast.

'About sixty percent of them,' she informs me. 'The rest are people who have been discharged, referred to other places or still here.'

'Right okay,' I begin. 'How are we going to find a single person in a whole room full of them?' I look expectantly at Molly.

'You have any info on him? Death date? Birth date? Referral date?'

I think for a minute before I remember. 'Sherlock said that Nicky was nineteen when he died and he died four years ago—2011 or 2012.'

'Okay. You check the 2011 death section, I'll check 2012? All names are displayed alphabetically by surname.'

I agreed and set to work, pulling out box after box of people whose surnames began with the letter B and setting them on the floor.

After an hour or so of searching, Molly found what I was looking for. 'Ah! Here we go,' she exclaimed. 'One Nikolas Frederick Bassett, age at time of death: nineteen years and eight months.'

'Molly, you're a genius,' I praised as I straightened up from bending over the twelfth box.

She smiled sheepishly, handing me a cardboard folder with the boy's name on the front.

I opened the file and looked through it, photographing each page as I went along.

When I was done, I handed the files back to Molly, helped her stack the boxes back up onto the shelves and then sent the photos I'd taken to Sherlock.

I made my farewell and caught a cab to the alleyway. Sherlock, John and Lestrade were there, along with another, more important-looking man dressed in a posh suit who was leaning on an umbrella.

'Hey, guys!' I greeted as I reached them. I nodded in Lestrade's direction and smiled softly at Sherlock. I childishly stuck my tongue out at John, earning me an eye roll.

I looked at the other man, unsure of what to make of him, when he started to speak.

'Kodi Watson, am I correct?' he asked, raising an eyebrow.

And instantly, my mind rewinded back to that first night with Sherlock, where the first thing he said to me was that line. I shuddered.

Before I could respond in any way, Sherlock piped up. 'Um, Kodi. This is my brother, Mycroft. He's come to help us with the plan.'

Sherlock has a brother?

I couldn't think further on that as Sherlock had started to fill me in on their findings.

'... Elias White. There have been a few other victims murdered by our mystery man, and all of them have been raped and then murdered. Those victims able to fight the rape had been stabbed with a knife, in the hopes that they would bleed to death. Only those lucky enough to get help, like Tara, were lucky enough to survive. All our victims have been stabbed in exactly the same way: right side of the body, stomach down to the thigh.'

Sherlock handed me a wad of photos. As I sifted through them, my hand flew to my mouth. All these people, some hardly out of their teen hood, some in their thirties, were all lying in this very alleyway, stabbed in the abdomen and very, very dead. 'Oh my god!' I cried.

I handed the photos back to Sherlock, who tucked them into his inside pocket, out of my sight. This very alleyway. Seemed like anyone who stepped foot here was hurt in some way. I was suddenly very scared for my friends and family.

I shuffled closer to Sherlock, who subtly gripped my hand. He smiled at me, mouthing okay? I nodded, smiling slightly.

Lestrade turned to us as he ended his phone call. 'That was Martinez. He said that White's been located.'

'What?' I squeak, unable to find my voice.

'They've finally found him. For the better part of two decades, he's been on the run, but now we've found him, we'll arrest him tonight and detain him.'

'Right.' That was Mycroft. 'Are we finished here?'

'Yes, yes,' Sherlock replied irritably. 'We'll see you later, Mycroft.'

Mycroft nodded at him and after a swift kiss on Lestrade's cheek (that was new), he was on his way.

'Well. Now that White has been detained, we'll arrest him tomorrow morning and maybe this can all lay to rest.'

Lestrade left us alone.

'I see you've been sending the picture of my and Kodi's intimacy to other people?' Sherlock smirked at John.

'Well it was interesting. Kodi, it's been only three weeks; you told me nothing would happen in two months!' John grinned.

'Yeah well what can I say?' I answered, beaming despite the fear that was starting to eat away at me.

'I don't know,' John chuckled. 'Goodnight, you two.'

'Night, John,' we chorused simultaneously.

I sat on the sofa back home (221b Baker Street was home), chewing at my fingernails.

'You okay?' Sherlock looked up from his microscope, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

I had been sitting there staring blankly at some TV programme, not paying attention in the slightest, ever since we returned from the crime scene four hours ago.

I paused, my heart beating fast against my chest. I inhaled, then exhaled. 'Sherlock, if Tara hadn't called me, you're saying she wouldn't have survived?' I stared at him, apprehensive of the answer.

'Oh Kodi,' he sighed, dropping whatever was on his slide onto the table. He was by my side on the sofa in an instant. His arm slid around my shoulders as he pulled me close. 'Don't think like that. Tara survived. She'll be fine. The girl is smart. She knew what to do to keep herself alive.'

'All those victims,' I whispered, my tears beginning to fall. 'They died in that alleyway. All of them. Who'll be next?'

'No one,' Sherlock confirmed confidently. 'We've caught the culprit, he won't hurt anyone else.'

'Elias isn't like that though. He'd never hurt a single soul. I knew him in uni. He was best friends with Liam.'

Sherlock smiled sadly, kissing my temple. 'I'm sorry to say this but maybe your ex rubbed off on him.'

'Maybe,' I muttered, yawning.

He ran his hand through my hair as he lay me on his lap. 'Try to sleep, Kodi. It's all okay now.'

The sensation of Sherlock's hand in my hair was especially calming and soon enough, I was dreaming.

Oh my damn Jesus. Five months. Five bloody months. I'm sorry. You may need to wait longer for chapter 15 as I have yet more exams on the horizon :/ Please review, because reviews are encouraging? Thanks guys.