I totally forgot to mention this is post-reichenbach. Sherlock has come back and Moriarty is dead. Or is he? :)

Ch.5

There was a shocked silence. Everyone looked at Sherlock, waiting to see his reaction. He tried his best to remain emotionless.

"Are you absolutely positive that's what the killer said?" He finally said, gaining his composure.

"Absolutely. I was right behind them while they were talking. I recognized the name from the papers. That's what made me look up. Right as I did, though, this man got shot." His voice quivered.

"Very well then. Bowie, John, we're going home now." Sherlock mumbled with a far off gaze.

Back at Baker Street, Bowie made tea and they all sat down in the living room.

"We mustn't jump to conclusions Sherlock!" John said once they were all settled. "It might not be related to Moriarty at all."

"I know, but it usually isn't a coincidence if that name turns up right before someone's killed, is it?" Sherlock growled.

"I guess not." John murmured.

"My dad used to talk about someone named Moriarty when I was little. He never said anything about him to me, but he and Mum would talk." Bowie piped up. "I never really thought about that until all the stuff about Moriarty and Richard Brook started popping up."

"Your dad was a policeman too, wasn't he?" Sherlock said, with renewed interest.

"Yah. He would talk a lot about some Moriarty person once I was in bed. Late, too. I don't think my mum and dad wanted me to hear anything." She added with a realization. "You know, it was almost all they ever talked about."

Sherlock stood up and began pacing.

"Lestrade said that the victims of this murder string were all policemen. Shot in the head every time. Bowie, were your parents shot in the head?"

"Sherlock!" John yelled, looking up from his tea. "Timing, again!"

"Oh, terribly sorry." Sherlock said with little emotion.

"It's fine." Said Bowie, holding back tears. "I'm not sure, to answer your question. They were shot though." She took a sudden interest in her tea, swirling the spoon around delicately.

"Maybe it would be best if you went to bed, Bowie." John said, being caring as always.

"Sure." She set her tea down and sniffled. "Goodnight."

John knocked on her door around 9 pm, carrying a glass of water and a pill bottle.

"Sorry about Sherlock. He can be a bit insensitive sometimes." He said as he sat down at the foot of her bed.

"Its alright. I know he's normally not human." She sat up more in bed. "Does he know I'm sick? He never really mentioned anything about it to me."

"No, I haven't told him. He can be weird about things like that." John handed her the bottle. "I got this for you at work today. It should help you out. Almost all my other leukemia patients got better with this. I also set up an appointment for you in 2 months."

"Thanks, John. This has been unreal so far." She took the glass from him.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The next morning, Sherlock was decent enough not to shoot the wall. Instead, he spent the morning pacing around the flat like a lion on the hunt. John spent the morning on his laptop, a cup of coffee sitting dutifully to his right. Bowie decided that it would be a good time to visit Mrs. Hudson. She pulled on her dressing gown (one that John had bought for her) and went downstairs. She stood in front of 221a before hesitantly knocking on the door. It swung open and Mrs. Hudson stood facing her.

"Oh, hello dearie!" She said as she ushered Bowie inside. "Have the boys driven you up the wall already? Please have a seat."

"No, they haven't yet. I just didn't want to interrupt anything. They both seemed pretty busy." She smiled at the old woman.

"Would you like anything to eat? I know Sherlock tends to keep more body parts than food in the fridge." Mrs. Hudson asked, sitting in the opposite chair.

"No, thank you. I'm fine"

They continued their banter for some time until there came a knock at the door.

"Mrs. Hudson? May I speak to Bowie?" It was Sherlock's voice behind the wood.

"Of course!" she nodded at Bowie, who got up and headed towards the door.

"Nice speaking to you, Mrs. Hudson." She sung as she walked out the door.

Sherlock was already up the 17 stairs that led to 221b. Bowie jogged up to meet him. In the flat, the Doctor was seated on the couch, and Sherlock was standing near the door.

"Is this some sort of intervention? Have I done something wrong?" she said with a concerned look on her face.

"No, not at all. In fact, you've been quite a help on this budding case. I think that for only having lived with us for only two days, you've left a large impression. I know that you are a very clever girl, and you have great mind, not to different from my own. You have too many distractions though, and that is holding you back. John here also thinks that this case is dangerous, which is not an exaggeration. For that reason, I have decided that I'll be your mentor. Someday, maybe you could be the next consulting detective." Sherlock talked on, pacing continuously.

"But you also have to go to normal school." John added, lifting a hand up. "I know you're used to going to school on the same grounds as where you live. You're starting on Wednesday, by the way."

"Yes, I'm sure she knew that John. Anyway, I'll be training you as my intern, or more appropriately, assistant."