A/N: Thank you for reviewing the last chapter! I also love hearing from you, Ayno23! You're amazing!

Chapter Seventeen: Speak

.o.o.

.o.

Graceless

Is there a powder to erase this?

Is it dissolvable and tasteless?

You can't imagine how I hate this

Graceless

The National - Graceless

.o.o.

.o.

Sherlock had just finished pouring himself and John tea when there was a determined knocking at the door. He glanced over at John who was ready to close his book before he motioned for his boyfriend to remain in his spot.

"Don't get up, John. I'll get it," he winked at the doctor, opening up the door. Upon seeing Greg Lestrade, Sherlock's playful and content demeanor went out the window. "Oh for God's sake! Why are you here… again? You were just here yesterday! What is it you want from me?"

The Detective Inspector let himself inside, gently forcing Sherlock to move out of his way to let him in. He gave a nod of greeting to John who sighed and gave Greg a warning look. He quickly put his hands up in surrender.

"Now, I know what you're about to say, John, but before you kick me out, let me just talk to Sherlock for a bit."

John looked hesitant. "Fine… but prepare to get your arse kicked by an army doctor if you so much as set Sherlock off."

"Fair enough…"

The young detective handed John his tea before taking his tea into his bedroom with him, deciding that would be a more private spot to talk to the head of Scotland Yard. He opened the blinds that hung upon his window, reluctant to turn on any other lights.

"I'd offer you some tea, Lestrade, however I fear that would only make your stay here much longer than I can stand," Sherlock replied icily.

Greg ignored his remark. "Sherlock, we need your assistance with this case."

"No, you need my assistance with this case. I'm quite sure that Sergeant Donavan and Anderson don't want me in their presence. As I've told you before, Lestrade, I'm not willing to interrogate whomever it was who was sexually molested by their attacker. It's not my area!"

Lestrade watched with irritation as Sherlock started to pick up items too quickly for Greg's liking; they must have been things the younger man had used to get high before. Now would be a hell of a time to lock Sherlock up for drug possession, but even that would be difficult to prove unless he actually found drugs in his possession, not like Greg Lestrade would actually lock him up.

"What do you mean it's not your area? I know for a fact that this is your area, Sherlock! You've dealt with this!" Greg urged him, taking a step towards him.

Sherlock shook his head and clenched his jaw. "I haven't… dealt with this, Lestrade. I've suffered through it! I haven't completely gotten over what he did to me. How am I supposed to help this child when I can't even help myself?"

Greg sighed heavily and rubbed his temples before locking eyes with Sherlock again. "All we're asking is if you can get her to say something, anything. She's absolutely catatonic. She hasn't said a word since we brought her in…"

"Well here's a brilliant idea! Why not take her to the hospital! She needs to be checked out! Maybe they can get her to talk…"

"We did take her to the hospital, Sherlock! Right after we found her! She was discharged with no apparent evidence of his semen or anything else inside her. Everyone's tried to get her to say something, anything, but she's been silent for 48 hours. She won't tell us anything."

Sherlock clenched his fists at his sides and took a deep breath to try and calm himself, unfamiliar with these sudden, angry feelings. He wasn't angry at the girl or even at Lestrade; his anger seemed to be aimed towards the man who had abused her. "If she won't talk to you, then I'm going to be the last person she decides to talk to!"

"What else would you have me do, Sherlock? We need answers from her! We need to know exactly what happened to her while he had her locked up in that hell house!"

Sherlock suddenly slammed his fist on the dresser before he turned on Greg. "What else would I have you do? What about your damn job? You're Scotland Yard! Question the abuser! Make him tell you what happened instead of relying on a child whose imagination can run wild! You've made a mistake coming here! I'm not the right person to question this child!"

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom opened and John peaked his head inside but stood straight and upright, walking almost threateningly towards Lestrade. "Is… everything all right here, Greg?"

"Yeah… yeah, it's fine," he glanced over at the doctor before looking back at Sherlock with desperate, pleading eyes. "We're at the end of our rope here, Sherlock. You know we wouldn't ask you unless we couldn't do this ourselves. Please…"

"Greg, I think it's time you should go now, yeah? Let me walk you out…"

Sherlock took another deep breath before he exhaled and then closed his eyes. This was the last thing he wanted to do and he didn't even know why he was considering doing this at all. He looked over at John and put his hand up. "John, it's fine. Leave it alone…"

The doctor turned and looked at Sherlock with surprised eyes. "Really? Sherlock, you don't have to do this. No one's going to think less of you if you turn this down. You went through this yourself – "

Sherlock nodded slowly and opened his eyes. "Which is why I need to do this. I don't want to talk to her but I feel like I should. She's not talking to anyone else because they can't relate to her and they're just assuming they know how she's feeling and what she's going through. In turn, she can't relate to them because she knows this fact and it doesn't mean anything to her. I know how she's feeling; I know what she's going through. There's… a chance I might be able to help her."

John moved over towards Sherlock and searched his face. "There's also a chance you might not be able to."

"I realize this, John, but it's dangerous for a person to remain in their head all the time. Even if I can somehow get her to say two words to me in several hours, I'd still consider it a success. I… I believe this might help me too, John…"

Sherlock searched John's eyes for permission and once he saw the older man nod in understanding and acknowledgement, he turned back to Lestrade. "All right."

Greg's eyes widened. "All right? You'll do it, then? You'll help us get her to talk?"

"I'll do what I can, Lestrade. I can't promise anything though…"

"Great! That's great. As always, we appreciate the help, Sherlock. Do you want to ride back to Scotland Yard with me or take a cab?"

Sherlock glanced back over at John whose face silently told him that he wanted to talk first before the young detective ran off to complete his mission. "I believe I'll take a cab there. I need to do something first."

"Right… then I suppose I'll see you there in a bit. Good morning, John," Greg nodded his goodbyes to the doctor before he walked out of the flat.

After John listened to the hum of his police car drive away, he moved closer towards Sherlock.

"Are you sure this is what you really want to do?"

"Yes, John. I've made my decision, and for better or worse, I believe I made the right one. Do you have any objections with my choice? You appear a bit unnerved about the situation," Sherlock observed calmly, his anger and hesitation having melted away with Greg Lestrade's exit.

John chewed apprehensively on his bottom lip. "I'm not going to stop you if this is what you want to do. It's your choice. I just didn't expect you to be willing to go there and talk to, err… a child. I don't think I've ever seen you talk to a child who didn't automatically start screaming or crying in fear of you."

"That was one time and in case you've forgotten, that was because of Moriarty, so I'm quite sure that will not happen again. Anyway, I understand why my acceptance to help Lestrade with this case might be an enigma to you but I assure you that I can make this girl talk. Call it, an experiment, if you will. I'm going to see if my past experiences can somehow make her open up to me," Sherlock smiled without humor.

"An experiment? That's how you see this, then?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and then cleared his throat. "How else should I see this as? The goal is to get an emotional response from a subject by performing a series of emotion-inducing tests in the way of my own past experience."

John's mouth opened in shock and frustration. "When Lestrade was here though, you seemed like you were doing this for the right reasons, not just as an experiment. I can't believe you're seeing this little girl's pain and suffering as a bloody science experiment! Who exactly are you, Sherlock? Who is this person that's standing in front of me because I honestly can't recognize him!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed before he started to get changed into formal attire. "Oh, John. There really is no need to be so dramatic. You're just as bad as my brother. However, if that were the case, then the things we do would be quite illegal."

John nearly exploded when he saw Sherlock smirk. "Why is everything a joke to you, Sherlock? This is serious! A child was abused and you're treating it like a joke! You really are a machine…"

"Not a machine, John, a sociopath."

John Watson shook his head in denial. "No! No, Sherlock. You're not playing that card with me. You can't label yourself as a sociopath all you want but you and I both know that you can feel plenty of things. I just want you to admit that you're doing this because you want to help someone in a similar situation as yourself, that you're helping her because you would hate for her to be caught up in the same situation as yourself."

Sherlock looked at him curiously. "And what situation would that be exactly?"

"An ex-junkie who would rather deny he feels more than any other human I know in order to keep up appearances of being a heartless bastard," John answered honestly, sadness in his eyes.

The younger man took this in for several moments before he finished pulling down his cuffs. "If you'll excuse me now, John, I have someplace I need to be."

He had left the bedroom and his hand was on the doorknob when he heard John's voice from the bedroom.

"I love you…" the doctor's voice trailed through the flat.

Sherlock smiled to himself. "I love you too, John." He waited a bit before he grabbed his phone and hurried out of the flat, deciding that this was something he had to do alone.

.o.o.

.o.

He thought of everything he wished anyone had told him after he had been sexually abused. No one ever said it wasn't his fault. No one ever told him that it wasn't normal, or that it wasn't okay, but somehow, Sherlock had just known that it wasn't.

Wasn't normal and wasn't okay. It was the sinking, broken feeling inside of him that made him realize the reality of the situation. He just knew that what his father's friend had done to him had been the worst thing imaginable.

What was he to say to this young girl? The only other children he had ever properly talked to before were his nieces. That had appeared much simpler and easier than his task at hand right now.

When he arrived at Scotland Yard, he wasn't surprised when he heard the familiar, taunting voice of Sally Donavan coming from the very person herself as she walked out of the room where they were no doubtedly keeping the young girl.

"Heard you were coming, Freak. I'm having a strong sensation of déjà vu. Maybe this time a little girl won't start screaming when she sees you…"

Sherlock was used to her name-calling and so he just pursed his lips. "Ah, Sally. Never a pleasure to see you, is it? Surprised I haven't seen Anderson around yet. He's usually close by when you are. Speaking of the devil, how are your knees? Have they healed from the last time you scrubbed his floors?"

Sally's face fell from satisfaction to defeat. "How are your arms, Sherlock? Heard a rumor that you like to fall on needles instead of finding them in haystacks."

This felt like a harsh blow to Sherlock but he didn't let his true feelings or hurt show. He just chuckled and smiled without humor. "I would love to stay and chat but apparently Scotland Yard is too incompetent to question someone so the burden now falls onto myself. See you around, Sergeant Donavan."

He opened the door before she could get another smart remark in and then closed it behind him. Sherlock glanced off to the side where he knew stood a two way mirror, most likely with Greg Lestrade on the other side of it. He looked back at the table where a young girl who couldn't have been much older than eight years old was sitting with a glass of apple juice in front of her along with a few dozen crackers.

Sherlock put aside his usual cold and analytical disposition and replaced it with how he figured normal adults talked to children in these kinds of situations. He walked over towards her and smiled warmly.

"Hello there. Do you mind if I sit down?"

The young girl bit her lip unsure but then shook her head. As he sat down, he made sure to move his chair so it was a safe distance from hers but also where he could keep her attention. "Can I ask what your name is?"

The little girl was silent for a bit before he saw her eyes glance over at the mirror before looking back at Sherlock.

"Ah," he observed. "You're quite smart, aren't you? Don't worry about them. They don't care what we're saying in here. I'm Sherlock…"

She tucked her long locks behind her one ear before she grabbed one of the crayons that were lying on the middle of the table amongst a pile of drawn on papers with words scribbled all over it. So she was talking in a different way.

Sherlock watched as she wrote down a name and then showed the piece of construction paper to him. "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Katie. How old are you, 8? 9?"

The young girl known as Katie put up eight fingers and then let them drop in her lap again. Sherlock sighed to himself and felt disgust with her abuser. She was only eight years old and already been tainted by filthy hands. The young man felt sick.

He nodded once and then was quiet for a long time. The two of them stared at each other for a long time before Sherlock decided to just get down to business now. He leaned forward and took a deep breath.

"Katie, I know what happened to you. You were hurt, right? The man who touched you… did you know him?" Sherlock asked gently.

He then observed as the young girl's body tensed and she started to anxiously pick at the skin around her fingertips. After a long moment, she finally nodded in answer.

Sherlock felt his stomach tighten uncomfortably. "Was… was he a relative of yours or your parents? Was he an uncle perhaps?"

Katie shook her head and then took a sip of her apple juice before looking back at Sherlock with big eyes.

Sherlock swallowed hard. "Was he a friend of your father's or mother's? You can just nod if he's either."

She obeyed Sherlock and nodded slowly. Sherlock nodded in understanding and hated how familiar this felt. This little girl and her situation hit way too close to home for Sherlock's taste. "Can I tell you a secret, Katie? A secret that I've only told a few close people?"

She looked intrigued now and then nodded.

The young man took a deep breath and then exhaled. "When I was your age, or perhaps a couple years younger, my own father's best friend hurt me too. He… he touched me very inappropriately. I only know bits and pieces of your story, Katie, but I'm sure it's very much like my own. My father's friend would babysit me and… told me that what he was doing was normal, that I needed to be a good boy and stay put. Did your father or mother's friend say something similar?"

Katie bit her lip harder now as she nodded and Sherlock felt something in his chest ache when he noticed her eyes filling up with tears. Sherlock swallowed hard, not really sure how to calm her down so instead, he continued to talk.

"What they did, what your abuser and my father's friend did, both of them, it wasn't right. It isn't normal… it's… horrible, to put it lightly. The important thing though is for you to know that it wasn't your fault, Katie. What that monster did to you, it wasn't your fault and you didn't deserve it. No one deserves to be abused," Sherlock attempted to persuade her.

Tears escaped her eyes now and suddenly her body was trembling with sobs. He looked at her almost in alarm but then forced himself to remain calm. He didn't know what to do. Should he hug her? Or would that be too much affection too soon? Would it be inappropriate? He honestly wasn't sure but Lestrade wasn't coming out to them. Obviously the DI wanted to see what Sherlock was going to do next.

"Hey… hey, Katie… look at me. Can you look at me, Katie?" When she met his face with her own reddened one, Sherlock continued. "It's okay to cry. It's more than okay. Sometimes we need to get the pain out and crying is a positive way to do that. You've been through something most people can't even fathom and you made it out alive. You're so strong, Katie. We both are. I know it must be difficult for you right now but the pain will lessen in time and life will go on. You might or might not remember what happened to you, but either way, I promise you will find caring people who love you no matter what and they'll help you through it."

Even though her body was racking with sobs, she nodded emphatically in response and lazily wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. Sherlock looked around but didn't see any tissues. He mentally scolded Lestrade before he pulled out a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"It's clean, I promise." After she reached over and grabbed it from him, he gave her a small smile. "Nicked it from a shop. I run into a lot of crying girls in my line of work, figured it might be useful to keep them on me…"

Katie suddenly let out a weak chuckle and dabbed at her face with the handkerchief before blowing her nose. Sherlock felt a tinge of hope rise up from within him now at her chuckle. It didn't matter how weak it was; the important thing was that it was still there inside of her. The monster hadn't stolen every ounce of her happiness.

Several more minutes went by and the little girl's crying soon ceased into occasional hiccups. Sherlock shifted in his seat before looking up at her again. "It's going to be okay, Katie. You're a brave young girl and you're going to get through this."

She gave him a small smile back before opening her mouth. "Y-You're brave too…"

If Sherlock hadn't seen her mouth actually open and hear a voice echo off the walls, he wouldn't have believed she had said anything. He smiled brighter at her now and felt hope light up for his own self as well. "Thank you, Katie. That's very kind of you to say, but I assure you, I have nowhere near the bravery as you have."

Katie blushed furiously but then snatched one of the crackers on the table before she slipped it in her mouth to eat it to avoid having to say anything else. He couldn't think of anything else that could be said anyway at this point. It felt like the sun had come out after days of English rain and dark clouds drowned the country.

Sherlock stood up and looked down at her again. "Goodbye, Katie. It was lovely talking to you."

He gave her a quick wink before he started towards the main door and had opened it when he heard her voice from behind him again.

"You too."

Sherlock walked out and saw the shocked and awed faces of both Anderson and Sally. He walked past them in a proud stride and then heard Lestrade's voice trailing after him.

"Oi! Sherlock, how'd you do that? We've been talking to her for nearly two days and she didn't say one word to us!"

Sherlock smirked to himself in satisfaction before he turned around to face all three of them, but continued walking backwards towards the exit. "Haven't you heard? I'm the child whisperer!"

He turned back around and then pushed open the door before he left Scotland Yard, feeling new, fresh, and free.