To John's surprise, the child patient he was going to see was in a private room. Just as he, Donovan, and Lestrade arrived at the door a man walked out of the room. He was tall, with thinning reddish-brown hair, glasses, and an expression of despair. "You're back here," he said to the officers flatly. He had a strong Irish accent. The man then fixed his eyes on John and his green eyes widened. "Who's that with you?"

"Mr. Aherne, this is Dr. Watson. We know that the doctors and nurses that attempted to question your daughter yesterday were unsuccessful, and we happen to have both worked with Dr. Watson before. He's going to talk to her."

Mr. Aherne shielded his eyes with his hand. "I know you're just trying to help, but can't it wait?"

Donovan put a hand on his shoulder. "The sooner we find out the name of the person who hurt your daughter, the sooner this will be over. I know I explained to you that whoever this man is he's been targeting children in that area for a long time. We just realized that the victims were connected, and if all this goes well your daughter will be the last one."

The words didn't seem to cheer Mr. Aherne. "She said she doesn't know. Maybe she really doesn't know."

"That's very unlikely," Donovan gently replied. "Is someone looking after your other two children?"

"No, they're watching telly in the lounge. I just couldn't leave them with someone. We have no living family…" He trailed off with a sigh. "Should I be in the room with Dr. Watson?"

"It would be better if you stayed outside. Children are sometimes reluctant to disclose in the presence of a parent." As Lestrade spoke, Mr. Aherne's eyes flicked down the hall, towards the lounge. "Why don't the three of us go to the lounge while Dr. Watson talks to Moira." The three of them walked down the hall then, Donovan still resting her hand on Mr. Aherne's shoulder.

Figuring that the sooner this was done the better, John stepped into the girl's room, glad they had at least mentioned her name. The girl in the room was sitting on the bed, one hand holding a book open on the bed, the other clutching a ragged teddy bear that looked far older than she was. She was heavyset, with lighter hair than her father, more a strawberry blond color, but when she looked up at him her eyes were an identical green. She regarded him with obvious suspicion, but no fear that he could see.

John figured he should be the one to break the silence, and he did so with a cheery "Hi. Are you Moira?" The girl nodded. She closed the book and brought the teddy bear to her chest with both hands. "What's your bear's name?"

"Brownie," she said softly. "He was me mum's."

"He looks well loved." That was enough for Moira's mouth to turn upwards for a second.

"What's your name?" she suddenly asked.

"I'm Dr. Watson."

Moira sighed in an exasperated child way. "No, your first name."

"John."

"Me dad's name is John."

"Really?" He smiled at her. "Is he a Jonathan or just a John?"

"Just a John." She looked up towards his face. "Do I have to have another needle? Or a pill or more stitches?"

Anger roared in his throat as he reminded himself why she would need stitches in the first place, but he kept it down. "No. I'd just like to talk to you." He noticed then the table by her bed not only had several books but also a picture of a large dog surrounded by Mr. Aherne, Moira, and who he assumed had to be her siblings. "Is that your family?" She nodded in reply. "What are your brother and sister named?"

"Dierdre and Kieran."

He looked again at the photo. Kieran looked a bit like Sherlock, with black shaggy hair, although his was straight. Dierdre was clearly the youngest; she still had a round baby face, surrounded by bright red hair. "That's your dog in the picture?"

"His name is Rory. He's a bullmastiff and he's real big and strong." Moira's voice glowed with pride. "He likes me best. He sleeps in my room."

"You must miss him," John murmured, and she nodded.

"He's just a baby. He's not even two. Dierdre's too little to walk him and Kieran lets him pull on lead. I should be home to look after him."

"Hopefully you can go home in a few days." It was clear that the girl was feeling more at ease in his presence, but he didn't feel the time was right to bring up the issue of why she was in the hospital. "Is Rory named after Amy's husband on Doctor Who?"

This time when she grinned it stayed on her face. "Yeah. It's my favorite show. Kieran and Dad like it too but Dierdre doesn't like it. I think she's too little for it."

"How old is your sister?"

"Six. Kieran's nine like me. We're twins. I'm the oldest." By this point Moira looked more like an average child than a victim of a crime. Perhaps it was still too early to ask the big questions, but John was aware his time was limited. Her guard was clearly down.

"Do you know why you're in hospital, Moira?" John tried to sound nonchalant, like he was only asking about the weather.

The smile melted off her face. "I got cut. Needed stitches." She clutched the bear closer to her chest.

"Yes, I know you did. But how did you get cut?" He suspected at this point he wasn't going to get any further than anyone else did.

"I dunno. Just happened. Don't remember." Moira broke eye contact and turned to stare at the floor.

"Did anyone cut you?" he persisted.

"No," she responded in a whisper. "No one did anything. Nothing happened."

While he thought it was certainly possible that she'd blocked out the whole experience and really had no idea who her abuser was, John thought it was more likely she knew exactly who it was and simply didn't want to tell. He tried to imagine, without success, the sort of threat hanging over her head that made telling someone such an impossible task. Then he remembered that none of the victims had talked, and that was enough to turn his stomach to ice again. "All right. I just wanted to ask," he gently said and left the room.

Waiting outside of the room were Mr. Aherne, his other two children, Lestrade, and Donovan. Both of the Yarders looked at him hopefully and their faces fell identically when he just shook his head. Mr. Aherne appeared to not have noticed this exchange and asked him anxiously: "Is my Moira all right? Did she tell you anything?"

"No," John responded. "I talked to her a bit about other things but when I got around to asking she said no one hurt her. From the look on her face it was fairly apparent that she knew perfectly well who it was, and wasn't going to say anything."

He sighed. "Thank you anyway for trying, Dr. Watson. I'll go in to see her now; it's almost supper and I want us to eat together." Mr. Aherne stepped into the room, the other two children following him, and the Yarders headed for the exit.

John fell into step with them and asked: "Not to be rude, but did you consider it might be the father?" He thought this was unlikely; Mr. Aherne seemed like a doting parent and was reacting to everything with understandable horror, but family had to be ruled out first.

"That's unlikely. He told the doctor in A&E that as soon as he saw bloody underwear in the hamper he packed all three kids into a cab and headed for the hospital. If he was the perpetrator it'd be a bit odd if he drew attention to what was going on so publicly," Donovan said. "She's from the same area as all the other victims, and they've only lived there a year. Moved from County Donegal. No family members to rule out; Mrs. Aherne died a few years ago and as he said they have no living relatives."

"It's been considered, John, and while it hasn't been ruled out since there's no one who she says has done it, but it's not the working theory." Lestrade seemed a bit choked up, and John remembered he had small children of his own. "Whoever did it, he's clever."

"If you're all so stuck why don't you just –" The sentence was halfway out of John's mouth before he even realized he was saying it.

"John, we all know Sherlock is very good at solving crimes, but he's… harsh, you know that. I don't think it would be best to have him confront a suffering child." Lestrade gave him a sympathetic look. "You know that as well as anyone. If we wind up with some description, a name, anything that he could work with without talking to children, that would be different."

John knew he was right, but he also had a nagging feeling that if there really was a dangerous predator on the loose with at least thirty victims NSY needed all the help they could get, Sherlock included. He'd never even seen Sherlock question a child before, so there was no past experience to rely on.

After that, an uncomfortable silence fell between the three of them, and they did not talk as they took the lift down to the ground floor and headed towards the exit. Donovan did tell him "Thank you anyway, John," before they separated, and John was left only with his thoughts as he hailed a cab and headed home. It seemed like a very long ride.