John was able to dress in just a few minutes, one of the remnants of being in the army, and they were both out the door and into a cab in a remarkably quick period of time. They didn't speak to each other, and the silence seemed to fit with the darkened city.

In sharp contrast, the Aherne's flat was lit up like a birthday cake, creating a beacon of light that drew them in. Lestrade was waiting outside for the two of them. "Come on in," he said. "No one saw the intruder, but in the girl's room the window screen has been cut." He escorted them inside without further details.

John didn't recognize the two Yarders in the kitchen, and Sherlock ignored them as he went down the hall to Moira's room. He gave a cursory nod to at least acknowledge their presence before following Sherlock down the hall. Mr. Aherne, Moira, and the dog were all in the room; the dog was lying underneath the open window and the other two were sitting on the bed, Moira leaning against her father. She was in a long nightgown and clutching the bear she had held in the hospital, but her father was still wearing ordinary clothing. Her expression was somber, but she smiled as Sherlock came into the room.

"It's good to see you again Moira, even if it's so late." Sherlock said in response before heading over to the window. The cut screen waved in the cold night air, a strangely menacing sight. "This was cut from the inside," he said after examining the window for a minute. "It was cut some time ago." Mr. Aherne's eyes widened and Moira turned her gaze to her feet. Sherlock turned from the window and crouched so he was at eye level with the people on the bed. "Did K come to visit you tonight?" He spoke softly rather than in his matter-of-fact deduction tone.

"Yeah," she said in a whisper.

"How many times has K done this before?"

"I'm not sure. A while."

"All right." He paused. "Do you want your father to stay here when we talk or do you want him to leave?"

"He can stay," she replied as she clutched the bear tighter to her.

Sherlock reached into his coat pockets and pulled out a tape recorder. It didn't look like the ones the Yard used, so John assumed that he'd bought it earlier that day. "I'm going to record our conversation so you don't have to tell everything to the police again. Is that all right with you?"

"Is John going to be here too?" she said. She fixed her eyes on him as if she'd just noticed he was in the room.

"If you want me here," John spoke up in reply.

"It's okay if you stay. And you can put the recorder on," she said firmly in reply.

Sherlock sat the tape recorder on the carpet in front of him and pressed the button to record. (John wondered if he'd somehow known they would be called out by the Yard tonight.) When he finished with that he nodded and looked at Mr. Aherne. "What did you see? What made you phone the police?"

"I was getting ready to go to bed. I usually read something before I fall asleep, but before I got undressed I remembered that I had left the book I was reading in the kitchen. I walked down the hall and I noticed Rory – our dog – was following me. He sleeps in Moira's room, so I wondered what he was doing out here. I made my way to the kitchen and just as I grabbed the book Rory started barking and scraping at Moira's bedroom door. I ran back down the hall, opened the door, and switched on the light. The window was open and Moira was huddled on one part of the bed. I asked her if anyone had been in here, and she nodded. I stuck my head out the window but couldn't see if anyone was around there, since the streetlights in this area keep going out. I dialed 999 and I've been in here ever since." Only the slight waver in his voice indicated his distress.

Sherlock gave a half-nod and looked back at Moira. "How long was K in here?"

"Not very long. A few minutes," she whispered.

"Did you know K would be coming to see you tonight?"

"Maybe."

"Does K come by on certain days of the week?" He placed his hand next to her on the bed.

"Sometimes. Not every day, though." Moira placed her hand over Sherlock's.

"Do you mean that K shows up only on a few days but doesn't visit on every one of those days?" He didn't seem bothered by her hand on his.

"Yeah."

"Is there a reason why you didn't tell anyone about this?" Sherlock already sounded gentle, but his voice had softened even more.

"The sugar bowl."

John assumed Sherlock would ask what she meant by this apparent non-sequitur but he only continued to look at her. After a minute or two of silence, he turned to Mr. Aherne. "Do you use sugar on a daily basis?"

"I put sugar in my coffee every morning, a few teaspoons." He looked as bewildered as John felt.

"Do you use a specific container for that sugar or do you just scoop it out of where you normally keep it?"

"There's a small container I use for that sugar, so I can have a place to put it if I travel. I keep it on one of the top shelves in the kitchen." Realization appeared on his face. "Are you saying that this K told Moira if she told me my sugar would be poisoned?"

Moira turned to look at her father, words tumbling from her mouth. "I'm sorry, Dad, but I had to be quiet or something would get put there."

Mr. Aherne responded by pulling his daughter into a hug. "Oh, Moira, don't be sorry. I just wish I could have stopped this K from hurting you."

"Rory'd get a meatball," she said into his chest.

"K would give it to him?" Sherlock broke in.

"K brings it. I give it to him. He goes to sleep and then K comes in through the window. Rory sleeps in my room and if I didn't give him the meatball his throat would get slit." John could see Mr. Aherne look visibly shocked, but to his credit he didn't say anything.

"Did you know K would come tonight? Was that why you didn't have Rory in your room?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Yeah. I thought maybe that meatball would be poison too. And even if me dad got sick from it I'd still have my dog. K said if he died I'd get adopted." Moira turned her head so her face was no longer against her father's chest, but she made no move to escape his grasp.

"By K?" Sherlock said. She nodded in response.

"I'm not going anywhere and I'm certainly not dying. And K can't just adopt you. K couldn't even take you into their home unless they had a foster license." Mr. Aherne was firm. A brief look of surprise appeared on Sherlock's face, but in a second it was gone. John suddenly had a horrible feeling that K might in fact have one of those.

"I was scared. Mum was already gone," his daughter whispered into his chest.

He ran a hand through his daughter's hair. "I know you must have been. I wish I had known something sooner. But that monster K is never going to touch you again. I promise." Mr. Aherne looked at the two men and in apparent response to the doubt that must have shown on both of their faces, added: "I'll sleep in this room with a knife in my hands. I'll bring Moira's bed in my room. I'll move all of us to a hotel. I'm not letting my daughter get hurt again. This stops now." He practically spat out the words in his fury.

Sherlock nodded briefly at the man. "We're on your side, you know. All of us are just as keen to find this K as you are. And believe me when I say the last thing I want to see is your daughter getting hurt again." He turned back to Moira. "Is there anything else you might be able to tell us?"

"K was my friend," she said softly. "I didn't have any others."

"I know K must have been, sweetheart," Mr. Aherne broke in. "I wish you had told me you were so lonely, though. You shouldn't have to get hurt to keep a friend."

In the time it took him to say that, Sherlock had flipped off the tape recorder and was now heading to the door. He gestured for John to follow him. As soon as the two of them walked out the door they were confronted by a boy in pajamas. John recognized him as Kieran, Moira's twin brother.

"Are you going to find the person who hurt my sister?" he asked without preamble.

Even though John knew about Sherlock's personal connection to the crime, he was still surprised by the undercurrent of rage in his voice as he said "Yes. We're going to find them and make them pay."