Sherlock hadn't been to bed all night, he had just sat in his chair all night. He was waiting for something to happen because he knew it would. This killer was clever, smarter than those that he had met before. He couldn't work out who it was at all.

"Morning." Rosie said as she walked into the room dressed in top and skirt.

"How did your mum die?" Sherlock bluntly asked.

"Err…Good morning to you to." Rosie was taken aback by the question. "It was about six months ago, it was just me and mum. We were watching TV one night when there was a knock at the door and mum went out to see and she was talking to who it was, I couldn't hear. They started shouting and then suddenly mum screamed and a gun was fired. I stuck my head around the corner, hidden in the dark though so they didn't spot me. I saw mum, face flat on the floor in a pool of her blood. I didn't see the guy who she was talking too. I hid just in case they came looking for anybody else, I hid for a good hour or so. I came out and then went to look just in case. Nothing. Just mums blood. Her body was gone. I was terrified, I didn't know what to do, where to go or who to see. I went closer, blood all up the door and on the window. Blood down the driveway. I went back inside and found a bullet case and rose in the pool of blood. I found it so hard to sleep that night but I did sleep eventually." Rosie took a deep breath before she carried on. "I woke up, turned on the news. A body had been found in warehouse down by the Thames, she had a rose in her hair. They never found who killed mum." Rosie shrugged that off. "As bad as it sounds, I suppose I'd have never got the chance to know you if mum hadn't have died. I miss her though."

Sherlock was amazed at the way that Rosie had kept so calm throughout that. He didn't really expect her to tell him or for her to start crying. But she had stayed remarkable calm, rough like him.

"Where did your mum get the money from Rosie? When I last saw, her she was a penniless drug addict. You turn up new clothes and bag. Sounds like you weren't bad off before she died. What happened?" Sherlock wondered.

"She gave up the drugs, started working for some guy. I never found out who he was. He just paid well and mum was able to look after us both."

A text popped up on Sherlock's phone:

You and the girl are both enjoying this game, aren't you?

How the hell did this person know about Lucy? Who was watching them? Was it the same person the killed her mum or was it the guy killing the people and making them look like suicides? He needed to protect Rosie, he'd only just got her back.

Are you ready for the next part of my game?

Jesus, this guy is mad. Another text came through this time from Lestrade, the finger prints on knives matched those of the victims no hint towards the killer. Why are criminals getting so smart? Then a picture text message, the unknown number again.

It was a row of houses. Two story buildings, expensive looking with big open driveways.

"Morning." John said with a yawn as he came into the room.

"Was that a statement telling me that it was the morning, or a general greeting?" Sherlock queried.

"General greeting, you should try using it some time. Instead of asking about dead parents." Rosie told her dad whilst patting him on the knee.

When everyone was gone from the room, Sherlock replied to the message.

Why give me a clue? – SH

Even criminals get bored, Sherlock Holmes. Rosie should quite enjoy that clue though.

Sherlock went over to John and spoke to him about the text messages he'd received. The picture and how he'd changed his motive and started to give clues. The fact that he knew about Rosie.

"Is he getting more confident that we won't be able to work out that it's him. Why's he dragging a teenager into this?" John had question racing throughout his head.

"Yes, he's probably getting more confident. I don't know why he's dragging Rosie into this." Sherlock said calmly.

"How can you be so calm about this. Your daughter's life is possibly in danger. It's like you don't even care." John said getting angry with Sherlock.

"Rosie knew living with me would be dangerous. You knew as well when you came and lived with me that your life would be put in danger. I've not let anything bad happen to you." Sherlock said not getting any angrier.

"I almost got blown up." John mumbled with a mouthful of toast.

"Apart from that. But you did and I would never have let it happen. I especially won't put my family at risk. Anyway, back to the picture."

"It was a street of houses." John said plainly.

"Well observed. Look closer John." Sherlock pushed him.

"I don't…that road is only about fifteen or twenty minutes from here." John realised.

"Good, you're learning. We're going there today." Sherlock said patronisingly.

"Told Lestrade?" John asked.

"Nope" Sherlock said looking at his phone thinking about the picture and its importance.

"Are you going to?" John said pushing Sherlock.

"I wasn't going to." Sherlock replied not looking up from his phone.

"Phone him. I'm going to get ready."

Sherlock phoned Lestrade and told him about the next messages and the picture and how he, John and Rosie would meet him at the scene in about thirty minutes. All three of them bundled into the back of a taxi and drove to scene. Sherlock drummed his fingers on knee throughout the whole journey.

"How will they know what house to look for?" John questioned.

"They'll search the houses and looked for the abandoned ones. Ah, we've arrived and there's Lestrade." Sherlock said as he got out of the taxi.

"I know this road…I definitely recognise this road." Rosie uttered barely audible for anybody to hear. Sherlock and Lestrade both heard.

"What do you know about this road?" They both asked at the same time.

"Follow me." Rosie walked down the road. To specific houses and she then walked up the drive. With her gloved hand, she put a key in the lock which opened the front door. "This is it. This is house my mum died in. This is my old house and probably one of the houses in your picture dad. I heard you and John talking before you ask. This is becoming more about me and I don't care if my life is in danger. I want to find the person who killed my mum and is killing innocent people for the fun of it."

"I reckon another body or if we're lucky the knife." Sherlock said gleefully.

"You alright kid?" Lestrade asked.

"Fine, I just didn't expect to be back. Is it ok to look around?" Rosie wanted to reminisce of times with her mum before her life was becoming more dangerous.

"Don't touch anything yeah." Lestrade said softly squeezing Rosie's arm.

Rosie began to wandering around a house that she never expected to be in again. She walked up the stairs grasping tightly to the banister. She walked down the landing to a door and she took hold of the handle. She heard Greg speaking to his officers telling them to look for either a knife or a body. Rosie took a deep breath and twisted the door handle. She then let out a piercing scream as she entered the room. She had not expected to see that, written in blood on her bedroom wall in big capital letters.

SHERLOCK…ROSIE…HAVING FUN

Rosie screamed.