On Saturday afternoon John, Sherlock, and Lestrade journeyed to the Aherne's flat once more. Lestrade had come along to show Mr. Aherne some of the more recent photographs, both so he could positively identify any of his daughter and in the faint hope that he might be able to identify some of the other children. All three of them were silent for the whole trip, which was a blessing.

Sherlock had been doing his best to avoid John for the past few days. It seemed like any time John was at home he'd either be shut up in his room or just about to dash out of the door. It made him hard to live with, but John knew there was no way they were about to be going back to whatever they had had before this case.

When they arrived at the flat, Mr. Aherne answered the door. He looked more cheerful than John had ever seen him. John knew that was probably because K was finally behind bars and couldn't hurt his daughter any more. In fact, a lot of the lines on his face that John had attributed to age had vanished. "Right on time," he said. "Come in. Moira's playing with her brother in the living room. Mr. Holmes, if you want to talk with them in private you can go to either of their rooms. Mr. Lestrade, you said something about wanting to go through photographs with me?"

"That would be correct," Lestrade said as they stepped into the flat. "The material is of a sensitive nature so you may want us to go through them in a less public spot."

Mr. Aherne stopped leading them into the kitchen and turned around. "Not possible, I'm afraid. I've got bread in the oven." He didn't need to point that out; the smell of it baking wafted from the kitchen. "Our Saturday suppers haven't been as good as they should be recently, so I decided I'd go all out today." He looked at Sherlock's left arm, where a nicotine patch was visible between his hand and coat sleeve. "Trying to quit?" he asked. "I gave it up myself when Nora first got pregnant. They say it's harder than with hard drugs."

"I've never smoked." Sherlock's tone made it very clear that he wasn't going to discuss it further. Fortunately, Mr. Aherne just half-nodded in his direction and continued to lead them into the kitchen. He motioned for Lestrade to sit down at the kitchen table. When he had done so, Mr. Aherne sat in the chair next to him. Sherlock had already went into the living room, and John followed him.

All three of the Aherne children were in there. Dierdre was off in a corner by herself, sitting amongst a herd of My Little Ponies. Moira and Kieran were spread out over half the floor, with action figures of what appeared to be half the casts of both Star Wars and Doctor Who all around them. Moira was making the Millennium Falcon circle above them. She had her back turned to Sherlock and didn't turn around until he said, "Moira?" quietly.

She smiled. "Mr. Holmes! You've got to come to my room because I've..."

Her brother interrupted her. "Don't ruin the surprise for him. Dad said you couldn't do that until after we talked to him."

"I think we should go to your room to talk anyway. It would be quieter in there. Also, Lestrade wants to talk to your father and he'd prefer to do so in private," Sherlock told her. John knew perfectly well that the reason was that Mr. Aherne might react badly to the photographs, but he also knew that wasn't something Moira needed to hear.

"All right." She put the Millennium Falcon on the floor. "Don't touch any of the toys here," she ordered her sister. "Everything needs to be here for when Han shows up on Gallifrey."

Dierdre made a face. "I'm not going to touch your silly little space monsters."

Kieran snidely replied, "Just because you practically wet yourself every time you hear the theme music..."

"Enough," Mr. Aherne said before he could finish whatever he was going to say. "Moira, Kieran, you can go to Moira's room to talk. Dierdre, please don't touch their toys." He was calm. The folder Lestrade had brought with him was sitting on the table, but it hadn't been opened yet. Fortunately the twins scampered down the hall to Moira's room, John and Sherlock following close behind, so they weren't aware of what was going on a room away.

Rory the dog was sprawled out on Moira's bed, but got off it and came over to the two children, who patted his head and scratched his ears eagerly. "You remember Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, don't you?" Moira said. He walked over to where John and Sherlock were standing and sniffed them. Apparently satisfied they were not intruders, the dog lay down on the actual dog bed on the floor. "He probably wanted to see if you had any sweets," said Moira. She sat down on the bed and motioned for Sherlock to sit there as well.

"I'm glad to get Rory's seal of approval," Sherlock told her. He sat down next to her and brought out the tape recorder. Moira didn't seem surprised to see it; she looked like she had expected it to be there. When John and Kieran had positioned themselves on the floor, he spoke again. "Which one of you would like to talk to me first? Or is it something you both have to tell me together?"

Kieran looked relaxed, but Moira obviously tensed, and John expected he would volunteer. Instead he said "Moira first. She's got the big stuff."

Moira reached one arm back to bring Brownie into her arms before talking. "When I said no one came to see me in the hospital but me dad and Kieran and Dierdre? That wasn't true."

"I know that," Sherlock said, like she was merely revealing that the weather that day had been bad.

"The first night I was there, they took me up to the room and that police officer – Sally, I think her name was? She had tried to talk to me before after I got the stitches, and she tried to talk to me one more time, except me dad wasn't there." She looked expectantly at Sherlock.

"She's not the person you were talking about when you said someone else visited you, though, right?" he said.

She shook her head. "No. She asked me if me dad had hurt me and I said he didn't. Then she said that no one should touch me there but a doctor. I got real scared then because K said that too and said that was why it was okay, because She was a doctor." John had gotten used to the capital letters in She at this point, but it still unnerved him to hear it. "So I didn't say anything and just held Brownie until she left. Me dad came up for a bit and asked me if I wanted anything because he had to go home so everyone else could rest. I told him to get a book. I had to take a pill that tasted like clay the nurse brought me and then I fell asleep. When I woke up it was really early and the sun had just come up." Moira brought the bear closer to her chest. "A few minutes later someone knocked on the door and then K came into the room." The memory clearly disturbed her; she visibly shuddered.

"Did She have something that She wanted to tell you?"

"Yeah, She asked me if I'd said anything to anyone and I said no. Then She asked me if I knew what happened to squealers and I said I did. After that She left. Me dad rang the room I was in to ask what book I wanted and I said I wanted the Stephen Hawking one he wrote with his daughter. I thought about what K had said and I told him to bring the picture on the mantle we got taken before we moved to London. That way I could look at them any time someone asked me what happened so I'd remember to keep my mouth shut." She paused. "And Dr. Watson came to talk to me later that day. Then you showed up," she said, pointing to Sherlock.

"Before you went to the hospital. When was the last time you saw K?" John asked.

Moira turned to him in surprise, obviously not expecting him to speak. "The afternoon of the day I went to hospital. I took Rory for a walk and She was in the park. I almost always saw Her there first. The other times She'd come in my room."

"Did you stay in the park all the time when you met K there, or did you go somewhere else?" said Sherlock.

"A few times when the weather was nice we'd stay there but we usually went to a flat nearby. I thought it was where She lived but She said once it belonged to a friend. Sometimes I got biscuits and ice creams. If Rory was with me when I went to the park we'd stay there. Then we'd just go in the bathrooms. Sometimes I'd walk Rory come and come back after."

"What happened on that last day?" John pressed.

"I went to the park with Rory. I was kind of sad because me dad had yelled at me before. I wanted to wear my purple space kitten sweatshirt when I got home but he said it was dirty. I tried to get it anyway and then he yelled and I said I hated him." She looked down at the bear in her arms. "I told Her all about it when I got there and She said me dad didn't love me much if he yelled. She gave me a hug and I sat in her lap."

"Were you in the bathroom then or just sitting on a bench?" asked Sherlock.

"Bathroom. The big stall."

"Tell us what happened."

"Not that much. Not like usual, I mean, since Rory was there. I thought it would be okay because She said She just wanted to touch me. At first that was all She did but after a bit She started to use Her fingers."

"By 'use Her fingers,' you mean for penetration, correct?" Sherlock didn't seem bothered by what he said, but John couldn't help but shiver.

"Yeah."

"Vaginally or anally?"

"Both," Moira said, looking away as she spoke. At first John wondered if she knew what that meant but remembered Mr. Aherne's comment at the beginning of the case (it seemed so long ago) about answering those questions as they came up. He figured that a child like Moira, who was so interested in science, wouldn't have settled for vague slang terms. He was also glad Sherlock could carry on with the questioning; he couldn't think of anything to say at all.

"At the same time?"

"No. One at a time. But there was more than one finger when She did."

"By that you mean more than one finger in one place?"

"Yeah. It always hurts and feels icky but this time it hurt more. When She got ready to leave I saw blood on Her finger. I just wanted to get home so I didn't say anything. After I got home I looked again and there was still blood. I took off the underpants I was wearing and stuffed them in the hamper. I told me dad that I wasn't hungry for supper and just stayed in my room. I checked again before I fell asleep and there was only a little blood so I thought it was okay. Then me dad woke me up and you know what happens after that."

"Is that all you wanted to tell me right now?" Sherlock's voice was soft.

"I think so, yeah." Her shoulders sagged with visible relief. She looked at her brother.

"My turn, then," Kieran said. Without waiting for Sherlock or John to say anything, he launched into his story. "When Moira picked that woman out of the lineup, I knew who she was going to pick. I'd seen her before."

"Just seen her?" Sherlock asked, the sound of his voice clearly indicating he thought it was more than that.

"Not just seen her. It's, you see -" He looked up at his sister, like he was asking permission.

"You can tell him," said Moira. Whatever it was she clearly knew about it.

"It was a few months ago. I think it was right after the new year. It was late in the day and Moira'd gone to the park a few hours ago and me dad said to walk down there and bring her home before she froze to death. So I walked down there and she was sitting on one of the benches with this lady I'd never seen before. I was going to yell at her to come home but then that woman got up to leave and kissed her." He scowled. "Not like how me dad kisses us, on the cheek or the forehead. On the mouth, like you see in those silly romance movies."

He looked down into his lap, and only when Sherlock told him, "Go on," did he do so.

"Once that woman left Moira saw me a minute later and walked over. She asked me if Dad had told me to go get her and I asked her who that woman was. She said it was just a friend of hers. I said she looked older than our dad. She said that the woman was still her friend. Then I asked her why she'd kissed her. She told me to shut up. I didn't know what to say then so I just started walking back home. Right before we went inside Moira told me to not tell anyone about the woman I saw. So I didn't, until now. I didn't know it was the same person who hurt her until she was in the lineup." Like his sister, he seemed to be relieved to be telling someone about it. She apparently understood that, because she touched his shoulder briefly. Kieran smiled up at her in appreciation.

"If your sister hadn't asked you to not say anything about K, would you have told someone?" Sherlock asked.

"No," he said. "I don't know if I would have said anything if someone had asked me. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

John wasn't sure if he was referring to Sherlock or both of them, but responded anyway. "I've got an older sister."

"An older brother," Sherlock curtly replied, the first time John had seen him even show a hint of the usual way he questioned others with the children in the case.

"Then I guess you understand some. Not that much, though, 'cause Moira's my twin. We tell each other stuff we don't tell other people. Even if I get mad at her, she's still my twin. No matter what else happens, we always have each other. So we keep each other's secrets." He glanced at both John and Sherlock, looking to see if they understood.

"I understand," said Sherlock, although John had no clue whether he really meant it or not.

As soon as he said that, Moira jumped off the bed and ran towards her closet. "I can give it to him now, right?" she asked her brother. "We've already said everything."

"Take it out," Kieran said.

Without a look backward she opened the closet door and pulled out a box slightly larger than a pillow. She placed the box on the bed next to Sherlock. "When I picked K out of the lineup, me dad took us for ice creams and there was a store nearby and he let us go inside. I found this there and told me dad we had to get you it. I'd saved up a lot of pocket money and I used that and me dad helped. He didn't know if it was a good idea but I told him why I wanted to get it and he said that was okay." The words rushed out one after another. Sherlock still hadn't touched the box, so she added, "Go on, open it."

Very slowly, Sherlock lifted the lid off the box. From the angle he was sitting at, John couldn't see what was in it, but he could see Sherlock's eyes widen. He halfway shook his head, like he couldn't believe what he saw. Moira and Kieran both watched anxiously, clearly waiting for some sort of response. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sherlock reached into the box and pulled out his gift. There were a lot of things John thought it could be, but what Sherlock pulled out was not something he had been expecting.

It was a bee. A large stuffed bumblebee. Its yellow and black stripes shone like any new stuffed toy did. It had two beady black eyes, six legs, and antennae. Sherlock continued to stare at it as it sat in his lap. He seemed paralyzed.

"Do you like it?" Moira asked. She sounded anxious. "Me dad said that you were old for a toy but I thought since yours got taken away you'd miss it."

Sherlock stood up, holding the bee in his arms. He blinked. "It's fine. Thank you, Moira."

The scene was abruptly broken by Lestrade poking his head into the room. "Are you finished in there? I've finished going through the file with Mr. Aherne." At that point he noticed the stuffed bee and his eyebrows drew together. "What is that?" he said, confused.

"A gift from me for Mr. Holmes," Moira responded.

"I see." He clearly didn't.

Whatever else Lestrade was going to say was lost, as at that moment Mr. Aherne walked into the room. His face was unnaturally white and his eyes were reddened, but when he spoke his obvious distress didn't show. "The bread's out of the oven and I'm going to start supper now. Kieran, it's your job to peel the potatoes. Moira, you'll peel the carrots. The roast's already in the oven." Both of the children got up and passed by Lestrade as they went through the door, their father behind. That was what seemed to snap Sherlock out of his reverie; he turned off the tape recorder that was still sitting on the bed, picked it up with his free hand, and headed out the door.

"I suppose you'll want this," he said, taking the tape out and handing it to Lestrade.

"Yes, thank you," Lestrade responded, still looking at the large stuffed bee that Sherlock had tucked under his arm. "We've also gotten some leads on some of K's former foster children, especially a family of four that lived with her for almost a year eight years ago. While we all think it's important for Phillip Rodgers and Moira Aherne look through the photographs, it's probably a good idea if we wait on that. They've been through enough already."

"How long before all this is brought to the Crown Court?" John asked.

Lestrade shook his head. "No idea. Right now this is a priority case. It's amazing it hasn't gotten through to the press. K is probably thinking that seeking attention will backfire no matter how innocent she looks. Oh, and John, an officer is going to be questioning any of the people at St. Bart's that were familiar with her when she worked there. I know you didn't work with her but I figured you should get a notice of that anyway."

"Quite," said Sherlock, his voice flat. "Do you need us for anything at the Yard or should we part ways here?"

"You're free to head home," he told them, still sneaking glances at the bee under Sherlock's arm.

Unlike someone covered in blood and wielding a harpoon, the cabs of London were more than willing to take two men with a large stuffed bee, even if the driver kept looking back at it in confusion. Sherlock kept it tucked under his arm the whole time. John couldn't tell if he was happy with the gift. He seemed numb, as if he was in shock. In fact, until they clambered up the stairs and back into 221B he was oddly expressionless. Whether this would have continued after they were at home John didn't know, because as soon as they stepped through the door they were greeted by a visitor.

"Mycroft," Sherlock said, clearly angry.