Sherlock was apparently up all night playing music, or at least for most of it, because every time John woke up, even for a minute or two, he could hear the violin downstairs. He only noticed it had stopped when he was woken up by Sherlock barging into his room and telling him to get dressed quickly because Lestrade wanted to see them at the Yard.

It was a good thing that Sherlock wasn't particularly talkative this time, because John was lost in thought himself. He kept hearing things Sherlock had said in the past.

"I consider myself married to my work."

"I'm not afraid of sex."

"I wasn't the one who upset her!"

"People always assume."

When he'd heard the first, he hadn't thought anything of it, other than Sherlock was apparently uninterested in sex or romance. As rejections went, it beat "You're not my type" or "I'm straight," (usually said in an offended tone). The second, well, it wasn't too odd to assume that anyone who was uninterested might get the "you're just afraid" response, but the defensive tone had made him wonder, and how Mycroft had just given him a look of disbelief in response. (After all, he had been the one to say "Don't be alarmed," right?) And the third…he certainly hated his brother, but never explained why.

The last stuck with him the most. It was almost like Sherlock had been trying to tell him something. After Mycroft's story it made a lot more sense. Even then, it sounded like there was another story to it. That he wouldn't be rude to
Moira? Possibly. He seemed so calm when he talked to her. John wasn't sure he could have remained neutral when she told the "Are you a boy or a girl?" story. Even now it made him shudder. Had Sherlock been on the receiving end of such a conversation? He realized that if his abuser had really started doing so when Mycroft left for school, and only stopped after the bee incident, that meant he'd been subjected to ten years of abuse. Was there really enough loyalty there that Sherlock would never name this person, whoever he may be? Was that why Phillip Rodgers struck him so much? Could he see himself as Phillip and the abuser as the mysterious K?

And of course if he hadn't been so firmly brushed off the one time he had made an advance, he would have wondered if Sherlock was attracted to him. In an unguarded moment, Molly had once said that he looked at John differently than he looked at other people. "Almost like he wants something he can't have," she had elaborated. This made no sense if Sherlock was merely uninterested in a sexual or romantic relationship, but if he really wanted something like that and the demons of his past were stopping him, it made a sickening sense. Sherlock had also commented Phillip loved his abuser. Did Sherlock still love whoever had done that to him? Like Phillip, he had no father growing up and his mother was distant at best.

Even if all this was the case, he reminded himself, there was no way to approach it. Whether it was because his one attempt to describe what had been happening to him was so disastrous or because he was reticent by nature, Sherlock wasn't going to talk about it. He never talked about himself to begin with – hell, John hadn't known until recently that both his parents were dead or that he had never really known his father. There was no casual way to bring anything like that up in conversation, anyway. John also knew if he just bit the bullet and asked something like "So, that person you were 'telling horrible lies' about, can you tell me about him?" he would be met with stony silence.

The arrival of the cab at the Yard broke him out of his reverie, and the two of them walked inside like it was just another day and this was just another crime they happened to be investigating. That was broken quickly by the appearance of Sally Donovan, who was looking at the two of them in surprise. John figured that he should just walk by and ensure that both of them wouldn't begin the insults, but when she spoke that broke like a soap bubble. "I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't heard it myself," she said in a tone of wonder.

"The tape?" Sherlock casually asked, like it was a question about a neutral topic.

"I spent an hour trying to get a word out of that Aherne girl. An hour. I didn't even ask her any questions about why she was there, and still all I got was a few mumbled 'Yes' or 'No" answers. Wouldn't even look me in the eye. All you did was chat a bit and she spills her guts to you. If John couldn't even get her to say something, I would have assumed she'd have sent him" (here she gestured to Sherlock) "out of the room and cried for her dad. You're so hard-nosed most of the time. What happened?"

"We're here to talk to Lestrade. Now please let us pass." Sherlock walked past her, John following. John was most astonished by the fact that he hadn't started an argument with her, or even been dismissive of her failed attempt to get Moira to talk. But on this case, everyone seemed astonished with Sherlock. And of course only John and Mycroft knew why. It was a club he wished he didn't belong to.

When they reached Lestrade's office John was surprised to see he was not alone. A familiar boy, one with shaggy black hair that fell into his eyes, was sitting in a chair opposite him. One hazel eye was half visible under the fringe. "John, Sherlock, as you may know this is Phillip Rodgers. He decided he'd rather not go to school today and I told him if he talked to Sherlock he wouldn't be taken in for playing truant." Lestrade sounded very matter-of-fact. "Mr. Aherne will be here soon to listen to the tape the two of you made, and I think it would help if you were there too, John."

John didn't question the need to have extra support for Mr. Aherne or that Sherlock would apparently be talking to Phillip alone. Phillip was staring at the floor. He had made no indication that he was paying attention to the previous conversation and looked rather like he would not be there at all. He couldn't think of something consoling to say to the boy and was relieved when Sherlock spoke up. "You've had your cast off for what is it, two weeks now? I hope you've gotten some strength back in it now."

Phillip's eyes were now both visible as he lifted his head to face Sherlock. He looked rather surprised.

"At least it wasn't your dominant hand. It's hard enough being left-handed, and being forced to use the other arm wouldn't be much fun." Sherlock had adopted a similar tone to the one he used when sharing his deductions, but instead of the faint air of superiority he usually used, he was matter-of-fact like Lestrade had been.

"How did you know I was left-handed?" His voice was almost a whisper, a low voice that wouldn't attract attention.

"Well, your right arm was recently broken. You have no cast because it was removed, but the pale skin and the obvious difference in size between the two indicates until recently it was in a cast. The muscles have weakened, making it smaller than your left arm. If you were right-handed the difference would not be as pronounced, as you would be trying to build up the strength in the arm as soon as possible." He smiled at Phillip, and it looked sincere, not faked.

At that moment Mr. Aherne walked into the office. "You said I could come here to hear that tape?" he said without preamble. "I've cleared out the day, so I can be here for a while."

"Of course, Mr. Aherne. We'll just go into one of the interview rooms," Lestrade said soothingly. "Sherlock, you know you'll have to tape your conversation with Phillip, but I don't anticipate any problems. John, you're coming with us?" John nodded and the three of them left the room, Sherlock closing the door behind them.

The interview room was small and windowless. It had a small table, four chairs, and a tape recorder. Mr. Aherne settled into one of the chairs. He looked uneasy. Lestrade sat down opposite him and gestured for John to sit next to him. "If you want us to stop the tape at any point, just tell us," Lestrade said in a soothing manner.

"Just play it. I need to hear what it says." Mr. Aherne's voice was resigned but steady. Lestrade wasted no time after this, immediately pressing the "play" button.

John had already heard the whole interview, so none of it was a surprise to him. Mr. Aherne, of course, had not heard any of it. He laughed when the dog came up to Sherlock and Moira and smiled fondly when she offered Sherlock a piece of the chocolate bar he brought her. His eyes widened with the conversation about the fate of the bee, however, and when Moira expressed her fear of her father dying his eyes filled with tears. John half expected him to demand they stop the tape at that point, but he didn't say a word. He briefly smiled when Sherlock told her that she didn't have to say the person's name or what they looked like, but that melted off his face with Moira's account of her trip to the park. The "'Are you a boy or a girl?'" line caused him to audibly sob, and tears streamed down his face for the rest of the tape. When it clicked off he had buried his face in his hands, muffling the sounds of despair he was making.

"We're going to catch this K, Mr. Aherne, just so you know that," Lestrade said.

He lifted up his head after hearing Lestrade's voice. "Why?" was all he could manage. "I've tried so much to be a good father, especially after Nora died. I moved to London because I could still be with my children most of the time when I worked. I just want them to be safe and happy. What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong," John hastened to reassure him. "People like K know how to manipulate a child. He'll be caught, just like Lestrade said. You are a man doing the best you can in a bad situation."

"That Sherlock Holmes was so good with her." Mr. Aherne's voice was still wet with tears, but he looked like he was making an effort to cheer himself some. "He's a good man. Any time he wants to talk to Moira again I'll let him. No wonder the Yard calls on him so often." John and Lestrade shared a glance, but were both able to refrain from bursting into laughter.

"Is there anything else you want to ask me?" Lestrade was quick to change the subject.

"When do you want to talk to Moira again?" He was looking directly at John. "Will it be at home or should I bring her here?"

"You can ask her if you want, but if she's not comfortable coming here I'm sure Sherlock will talk to her at home again," John said quickly.

Once the three of them left the interview room, Mr. Aherne shook both their hands. "I need to make sure I'm home before the children get out of school. Thank you, for letting me hear this, and for letting such a good man talk to my daughter." He turned and left after this, which gave John and Lestrade time to chuckle to themselves. They walked back to Lestrade's office, where the door was still shut.

"Should I knock?" John asked.

"No. Once the two of them come out we can go back in and listen to the interview." He leaned against the wall, apparently content to wait.

John didn't know how much time passed before the door opened and Sherlock and Phillip came back out. Sherlock had a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You'll talk to me again?" Phillip said.

"Any time you want me to. That's a promise. Just call me at the number I gave you." Lestrade looked shocked at this and wore an expression similar to a flailing trout.

"Can I bring my pictures with me?" He had started down the hall, but turned to look back.

"Of course. I want to see what you draw. Bring your flute, too." Sherlock smiled warmly at him as he walked down the hall, alone. He looked like he was planning on leaving himself, but Lestrade cleared his throat.

"No, Sherlock Holmes, you are not leaving. We're all going back in that office and listening to that tape. I promised Mr. Aherne we're going to catch this man, and the sooner that happens the better." Sherlock's smile became a scowl, but walked back into the office without a complaint. John followed the two of them and shut the door behind him.

Lestrade pressed the "rewind" button and when the tape clicked to indicate it had finished, he said, "From the way Phillip was talking to you, he seemed to get along with you well. I never would have thought it. Moira Aherne too. Even Donovan couldn't get her to talk." He looked like he might say more, but instead pressed "play". The tape faintly hissed as it began.