Part Eighteen:
One Year Later
"Sherlock I want to help you with the experiments," I complain as I sit watching him work once again.
"No. Rest your leg," he says monotonously.
"That's all you've said for the past year. I'm walking now Sherlock. Let me help with something," I beg. The past year has been so incredibly boring. Sherlock has had almost no cases. The few cases he actually took on, he refused to bring me along.
"I don't want you to get hurt," he says still not looking up from his microscope. It feels almost like the first few nights I visited him all over again. It's as if the closeness we shared only a year ago doesn't exist.
"How much harm can come to me while looking in a microscope?" I question. He doesn't answer, but only continues on with his work.
"Where's my coat?" he asks without a glance upward.
"I took it. It's sitting on your bed now," I sigh. Seeing no use in sitting idly I stand from my seat and begin my trek across the room. Each step is slow with my cane in hand. I must look like an elderly lady by the way I walk, but I'm invisible to Sherlock. I continue on until I reach the stairs.
The journey down the stairs is even more tedious. My steps are slow and it's a wonder how Sherlock managed to block out the sound of my feet hitting the stairs. I sound like a lame elephant limping across the savannah.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs the front door opens and a gust of wind blows in with it. In the doorway stands officer Lestrad.
"Where's Sherlock?" he asks immediately.
"Upstairs," I point, "What's going on?" I yell after him as he and several other detectives follow him up, the last ones being Anderson and Donovan. "One of you tell me what's going on?" I ask before the two of them make it all the way up the steps.
"A little girl's body was found by the river," Anderson explains.
"Why are you so quick to get Sherlock?" I ask.
"His name was written in the sand next to her," Donovan adds glancing up the stairs to see that Sherlock still hasn't agreed to come along.
"Take me there," I order.
"Take you? We're not even supposed to be bringing Sherlock," Anderson remarks.
"You know Sherlock takes pride in me being as intelligent as him. If you take me now I can tell you what I see and you can transfer it over to Sherlock. Make him look like the idiot," I persuade. Anderson would give anything to prove to Sherlock that he's smart. Chances are Sherlock will know I'm there, but that won't stop me from going now.
The two of them look at each other and then agree. They lead me to one of the cars were we quickly drive to the crime scene. When we arrive the beach is completely taped off. They lead me directly over to the body.
"She was found here this morning. Blow to the head," Anderson points to where the girl's head is dented in. With closer examination it's shown that the blow occurred after she had been dead for many hours.
"She drowned. She wasn't hit, at least not hard enough to kill her. Been lying here a few hours," I explain as I begin to examine the girl. There is a bruise on her shoulder, a straight line. She has on shoe on, a rain boot. Her clothes are tattered so not much can be said by those, "May I have your phone?" I ask.
"My phone?" Anderson asks surprised.
"Mine is at Sherlock's," I say as he hands it over to me. I quickly search weather reports and local schools.
"What do you know?" Donovan asks.
"A young school girl," I begin still looking at the phone, "whatever school bag she was carrying was ripped off her by the attacker, it was most likely the way the person got a hold of her.
"What can that tell you?" Donovan asks. I glance up from the phone.
"That won't tell us much, aside from how large the attacker must have been by the size of the bruise. But the rain boot, it could tell us exactly who she is. If her parents have already placed a missing child report then it should be easy to see what young girls have gone missing."
"How's that?" Donovan asks.
"The weather reports. What cities expected rain and which of those cities have missing girls that match this description," I explain.
"Here comes Sherlock," Anderson alerts.
"Her name is Rachel Evers," I state before Sherlock is within range.
"Couldn't wait for me?" Sherlock asks standing behind me, "If you want to work with me you'll need to at least let me come along."
"You wouldn't have brought me along," I sneer.
"I'm just trying to protect you," he sighs.
"I'm not a child, Holmes," I snap, "I know this world is dangerous. I've known since I was a child, and if you think I don't know that Moriarty has been threatening me then you're wrong."
"How do you-?" Sherlock begins.
"He's left messages, Sherlock. Look at this young girl," I point. John is closely examining the girl while Sherlock and I speak, "she's another message. He won't wait much longer."
"How's the girl a sign?" he asks stepping closer to look at her.
"I went to the same school after my parent's death that she goes to, or rather went to," I explain.
"Right, so I'm sure one of you has an idea of who she is," John says standing up next to the girl's body.
"Her name is Rachel Evers. She went missing three days ago," I sigh sadly looking down on her body.
"Anderson, find the girl's parents," Lestrad orders. As Anderson and Donovan leave Lestrad approaches Sherlock and I. "Explain to me why this girl is some sort of a sign. A sign for what? Is this some sort of a game to you? A child has been murdered."
"And a girl has been shot," Sherlock retorts pointing at me. "If you think I'm taking this lightly you're wrong. I'm waiting for him to get a hold of me. Until then, there's nothing I can do."
Bing.
"What is it?" I ask as he reads his phone.
"Lestrad, take Kathryn don't let her out of your sight," he commands running toward the street, "John come with me."
"Holmes, don't you dare!" I shout after him, still ignoring me. He catches a taxi before I can run to him.
"What was that?" Lestrad asks.
"He got a hold of him," I roll my eyes, "He'll never learn to include me, will he?"
"Don't take it personally," Lestrad beings leading me to his car, "he's never been good at that."