"Just trying to bring you up to date before next week," Lestrade said as he put piles of paper in front of John and Sherlock. "We've got to be very careful, make sure all the Is are dotted and the Ts crossed. Also, Moira Aherne and her family are going to stop by. She's got some anxiety about the trial and it'd be best to have someone she trusts tell her the details."

"Where's the witness list?" Sherlock asked as he scanned one of the documents.

"Not releasing it to anyone other than the solicitors for the defense. They'd probably object to anything else. There's a list of the victims that will be testifying, though." He took another piece of paper and handed it over to Sherlock.

It had been four months since K had been first arrested. Next week was the start of the trial. John couldn't help but think of it in the same capital letters he used for Sherlock's Issues. The Trial. They were meeting with Lestrade so late that the sun was setting, and in the middle of summer to boot. John welcomed the privacy the time gave them. "I'm not going to testify, am I?" he asked.

"No. You're on the witness list but you aren't going to be called. You wouldn't offer any testimony that wouldn't be duplicated by other victims or witnesses."

"Why am I listed as Victim Three? None of the charges involve me. Statute of limitations and all that." While Sherlock clearly meant to sound angry, his shame crept into his voice. He laid down the paper he was holding and John noticed it listed Victims One to Fifteen, with their real names in parenthesis by the side. He couldn't make out any of the names.

"You're listed as both victim and witness. Any witness not related to the victims can be identified in the press. Any victim is protected by a court order and can only be referred to by number in the press or related documents. You are currently covered because your testimony will establish a pattern of behavior. Unless you want that restriction to be removed?" Lestrade looked Sherlock directly in the eye. After a few seconds, Sherlock broke eye contact and looked once again at the paper on the desk.

"No," he muttered, moving his arm so the list was now clearly visible.

John took a look at it himself. Victim One was Phillip Rodgers, Victim Two was Moira Aherne, Victim Three was Sherlock... He did a double take for Victim Four. "Wait. Is Jennifer Ogbeide -Bena going to testify at all? She's so young."

"Probably, yes. You obviously don't know all that's happened in the last couple of months. In her case her father called us to say she had identified K as the perpetrator from the evening news. Also, her mother's agreed to help us."

"Her mother?" John stared at him in disbelief. "If she's really testifying that she sold her daughter for drug money she'll be charged and will probably lose whatever parental rights she's got left."

"Yes, she has," Lestrade calmly replied. "She's said she wants to make amends."

"Detox program in prison got to her?" John was aware how those programs worked.

"That is the case. She'll be sentenced after this is all done; she's admitting she's guilty. Easy for a change."

Sherlock was still looking at the victim list. "Victim Five is Sagnik Malakar. Did his family contact you or did you incompetents manage to find him on your own?"

"The family contacted us. Like Jennifer, he saw K on the news one night and told his parents that was the one who hurt him. His English is quite good now, thankfully." Lestrade had obviously noticed that Sherlock was still refusing to look him in the eye, and had kept his gaze on John or the paper in front of them. The three of them silently scanned the document. Victim Six was Christine Spencer, Victim Seven was Dominic Spencer, Victim Eight was Graham Spencer, Victim Nine Martin Spencer.

"Who's Thomas Davidson?" John asked, reading the name of Victim Ten.

"He's one of the children who was treated at the homeless clinic she worked at. Once he found out she'd been arrested he disclosed to his parents. He's got curly brown hair and different-colored eyes - one's brown and one's blue." He tapped his fingers on the table unconsciously.

"I would hope you weren't so foolish as to try to observe that protocol of having a female officer interview them this time," Sherlock dryly remarked.

"No. I am capable of learning from my mistakes," Lestrade retorted.

"Has that protocol actually been changed at this point?" From Sherlock's tone it was obvious that he didn't think so.

"Not yet." Lestrade looked down at his lap. "There's... resistance to changing the policy. Some have said that the vast majority of children will feel better with a female officer, regardless."

"Why don't you just ask them?"

"Ask the child?" Lestrade sounded like he thought it couldn't be that simple.

"Of course. You are aware that most children are capable of expressing such a preference?" At that moment Sherlock looked just like the person he had been before this case came to dominate their lives, and John was grateful for it. Then Sherlock looked down at the paper again and gritted his teeth. "Victim Eleven is Alla Pinyakova?"

Lestrade's face reddened. "Yes. I suppose we should have told you."

"Who's Alla Pinyakova?" John hadn't heard the name before and didn't know why Sherlock would know her.

"Small Russian girl, long blond hair. She's been a part of my homeless network for the past year or two. Doesn't speak much English." His words were tinged with fury.

"From what little we know, she came to the UK as a refugee of some kind. No other family. Taken into care and bounced around a lot, so we're not sure when she was in K's care."

"She's been on the streets since she was eleven." Sherlock looked like he could say a lot more, but didn't.

"I'm aware of that," Lestrade said. "She just walked into the Yard a few months ago and started to talk. We got a translator and she said her piece. There was a missing report filed on her a while back, which we closed." He paused. "You won't know any of the other victims' names, since all of them were interviewed after the two of you were taken off."

John could tell that this was going to go bad very quickly, so he jumped in. "Victim Twelve. James Warren. Tell us about him."

"He's only just sixteen. Rent boy. Been on the streets for God knows how long. He got brought in for solicitation and he said if we'd let him go he'd talk to us about K. He'd seen the headlines. Apparently he had her for a customer for a few years, from ten to thirteen." Lestrade has returned to a more businesslike tone. "He was still living at home for some of that time. Alcohol and drugs galore, and lots of neglect. A bunch of addicts in the same house and he wasn't ever sure who his father was. He said running away was the best thing he ever did. I believe him. No missing report was ever filed for him."

"Doesn't sound familiar," Sherlock said with visible relief.

"Ginger boy with a lot of freckles? Brown eyes? Not very tall and has a stutter?" Lestrade asked, obviously wanting him to be a stranger as well.

"Haven't seen or met anyone with that description." He was now able to look Lestrade directly in the eye.

"Who's Victim Thirteen?" John asked. The sooner all of them were kept up to date the sooner they could go back home. Even meeting with Moira would be less taxing.

"Jordan Ping Yu. Ginger too, but he's also part Chinese. Big hazel eyes. His story's a little like Moira Aherne's. Moved here from the States. His mother's out of the picture and dad works a lot. He went to Bart's about ten years ago for a physical shortly after they entered the country, and I think you can guess who the doctor was. He told us they 'had a relationship' - his words, not mine - until he and his father moved to Hong Kong two years later. He's nineteen now, and he came here to visit a relative of his father's two months ago. Saw some of the media coverage of the case and rang us the same day." Lestrade sounded a lot less hassled relating Jordan's story. No doubt this was because he was another stranger to all of them. "Victims Fourteen and Fifteen are siblings, Omowunmi and Isiaka Ehiwenma."

"Twins, I take it," Sherlock said, not asking a question but rather stating a fact. "They're from Nigeria?"

"Yes on both counts," Lestrade responded. "Isiaka is male and Omowunmi is female."

"When did She foster them?"

"Five years ago, for a little over a year. They were the last children she'd fostered, incidentally. They originally came to the country with their great-aunt, the only surviving member of the family. She died while they awaited formal refugee status, so the two of them went into care once all the paperwork was done."

"Why are they talking now? Didn't all the foster children you talked to refuse to say anything besides the Spencer family?" Sherlock sounded accusatory.

"That was initially the case. A few we failed to reach, like Alla Pinyakova. In this case they contacted us a few months back. The media coverage affected them a lot."

"Changed their minds." From the way Sherlock said it it was hard to tell whether he was making a satisfied statement, asking a question, or just giving the facts.

A mobile's ring tone cut through the air before the conversation could continue. John didn't recognize the tone so he figured it must belong to Lestrade. Lestrade in fact did dig a mobile out from a pocket and look at its screen. "Mr. Aherne just texted me to say they're right in front of the Yard." Sherlock got up without a word and went to stand in the hallway. John followed suit and stood in the doorway, looking out.

He heard them before he saw them. "Slow down!" Mr. Aherne yelled, and a second or two later Moira and Kieran came barreling down the hall. They both apparently saw Sherlock, as they came to a skidding halt a few feet in front of him. John couldn't help but smile; this was the happiest and most carefree he'd ever seen Moira. The summer break seemed to be doing them a world of good. Both of them were sun-toasted and Moira's hair had lighter streaks in it.

"You two almost ran into Mr. Holmes," scolded Mr. Aherne. He lagged behind his older children, with Dierdre trotting along next to him.

"But we didn't," Kieran said.

Moira now stood in front of Sherlock, still grinning. "Hi! Last week was our tenth birthday. We had curry and ice cream and cake and we went to the Doctor Who experience! And Kieran and I joined the swim club and I met a girl there my age who's got a twin brother too! She's even got a brother and sister who are twins and she came to our party with her brother and we don't go to the same school but she lives nearby. Her family has a dog too but it's a little Sealyham and they have a cat with two different color eyes that's deaf and has extra toes!"

"Wonderful to hear. That sort of cat is called a polydactyl, which means 'extra toes.' Two eyes of a different color are called heterochromia iridium." Sherlock said, smiling.

"I get to see a psychiatrist too. Once a week. He's nice." She still smiled as she said this, but some of the cheer had left her. "Sometimes he talks to me dad too and once even Kieran came in. We talk and play games."

Lestrade put his head out the door, looking over John's shoulder. "Mr. Aherne, good to see you. It's probably better to have this conversation in the office and not the hall, though."

"I agree. In the office, everyone," Mr. Aherne told his children. After a minute or two all of them were back in the office and settled in chairs (with the exception of Sherlock, who stood off to the side).

"How much do you know about what goes on at a trial?" Lestrade asked Moira.

"I've seen bits from shows on the telly," she cautiously replied, her smile vanishing. "The solicitors get up and wave their hands around and say 'Objection!' a lot."

"It's not nearly as exciting in person," Sherlock said. "You won't be there for the whole trial, though. Just when you testify. Do you know what that's going to be like?"

"I sit up next to the judge and the solicitors ask me questions." While her smile didn't return, she seemed more at ease talking to Sherlock.

"Correct. All you're going to do is answer the questions truthfully. It's not like a test, so if you don't know the answer just say you don't know."

"Will you be there watching?" she asked hopefully.

Sherlock shook his head. "No one who's going to testify in the trial's allowed to watch what's going on in court until after they testify. Otherwise they might be influenced by the others."

A thought seemed to occur to her. "Will K be there?"

"Yes, she'll be sitting with her solicitors," Sherlock quietly replied.

She paled. "What if She decides to get up and to go after me?" Her voice quivered.

"There are guards there that will stop her if she tries to do that," Lestrade said reassuringly.

"Do I have to look at Her?" Even though Lestrade had spoken to her, she still kept her gaze on Sherlock.

"Not at all. If you want you can look at who's questioning you or at the judge or even the ground," Sherlock told her.

"I'll be there watching, since I don't have to testify. You can look at me," John added.

That seemed to cheer Moira up a little. "Can I bring Brownie?"

"Of course you can," Sherlock said.

"What happens after I testify?"

"First K's solicitors will ask you questions of their own." Before Sherlock could continue he was interrupted.

"Because they want the jury to think she didn't do anything," Kieran said with a snarl.

"Yes, that is their job," Sherlock responded.

"Your dad and your brother are going to testify too. You know that, right?" Lestrade broke in.

"Yeah."

Sherlock started talking again before Lestrade could open his mouth. "Once they're done testifying other people will do so, but you don't need to be there for that. It'll probably be a long time before the trial is over. If She is found guilty then She will be sentenced and that's a different set of hearings."

"How many other people are going to testify?"

"A lot," Lestrade said. "This is an important case." He stood up and reached into a drawer behind him, taking something out. He turned and put a folder on the desk in front of him. It was the size of a phone book. "These are the papers we filed with the court on the charges."

Moira looked at the folder with wide eyes. "She really did that much?"

"Yes, and probably even more than that," Sherlock commented.

"Why isn't She being charged with more, then?" she asked.

"Because not everyone is brave like you and talked about it."

"You think I'm brave?" Moira sounded awed that Sherlock held her in that much regard.

"Yes, you're a very brave girl." He smiled at her. "Sometimes people are too afraid to talk about being hurt." John wondered if Sherlock meant himself.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" Lestrade asked, obviously eager to take hold of the conversation again. Moira shook her head. "Then I'd like to talk to your father for a bit. You three can wait outside in the hall."

"Just don't go far," Mr. Aherne added. The three children then left the office. "What do you want to ask me?" he said as he turned to face Lestrade.

"How have you been doing?"

Mr. Aherne sighed. "Coping, I suppose. We have good days and bad days. Moira's therapist says my job is to be a 'good poison container,' and I try. Some days though, when she gets to talking a lot about that woman..." He looked furious but bit back whatever he had intended to say. "One thing: why does Moira have to be in court in person at all? Don't they have arrangements they can make where she'd testify in another room on camera?"

"Those exist, but in several cases convictions have been overturned later because that manner of testifying wasn't deemed appropriate," Lestrade quietly said. "I only want to see this trial happen once. Unfortunately that means every victim's going to have to appear in person."

"I just think that she's been through so much, and she's shy. I don't know if she's going to do well when the defense solicitors question her." He sighed. "At least when they question me I'll be ready for it."

"You know Her solicitors are going to try to savage you on the stand," Sherlock warned him. "They won't be too hard on Moira since she's a child and no one wants to be seen as harassing someone that young. You're out in the open."

"What could they possibly say about me?" Mr. Aherne said bewilderedly. "That I'm negligent for letting her walk the dog alone?" John wanted to laugh at his naivety; he could think of many things the solicitors might deem suspect.

"With the medical evidence being what it is, they're not going to argue she wasn't abused at all; they'll save that argument for the others. But they may argue you did it." Mr. Aherne gasped as Sherlock continued on. "You haven't dated since your wife died, like a young widower with small children would be expected to."

"I'd never hurt my children," Mr. Aherne said in horror.

"No, you would not. However, that you would might be easier to convince the jury than someone like She would." Sherlock's mouth formed a tight line.

"Mr. Aherne, keep that feeling with you. You'll need it for the trial," Lestrade said.

"I suppose so." He still seemed visibly angry. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"Just be dressed nicely for the trial, all three of you. Your other daughter - will you be bringing her?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes," Mr. Aherne responded, seemingly relieved to have the subject changed. "There's a crèche in the courthouse, right?"

"Correct. It doesn't shut down until nothing's in session."

"I'll bring her there, then."

"Do you have any questions for me, personally?" Lestrade shot Sherlock a "don't jump in here" look.

"No. Thank you for all you've done. Now I really must be going." Mr. Aherne stepped out the door, took Dierdre's hand, and smiled again as Moira and Kieran raced down the hall again.

Once the family had vanished down the hall, Lestrade looked John in the eye before he spoke. "John, I hope this won't be a problem, but I would like to speak to Sherlock alone. Just for a few minutes. You wouldn't mind waiting in the hall?"

"No," John replied. He didn't exactly mind, but he couldn't help but wonder what Lestrade had to say.

"Once you're done talking to me we should be heading back anyway. I hope this will be brief." Sherlock gestured for John to exit, and he did so, shutting the door behind them.

While John could hear that the two of them were arguing inside the office, he couldn't make out any of the words. He leaned against the wall, eyes shut, and was only brought out of that state when he heard someone say: "I haven't seen you around here in a while."

He opened his eyes to see Sally Donovan standing before him. "We were asked to step away from the current case," he carefully said.

"Sherlock hasn't taken a case from here in that long?" She sounded surprised.

"Some private things, but no cases from the Yard, no."

"You've seen the coverage of the current case."

John hadn't expected their conversation to take this direction. "Yes," he finally said. It was hard to ignore the stories in the papers and on the news. Sherlock would leave the room when the television started on them and flipped past the articles, but John still took them in.

"Everyone who writes about it seems so shocked." She paused. "Have you noticed that every five years or so there's another 'shocking child abuse' case? Some horrible story comes out and everyone is surprised at how awful the abuser was and how can this happen and they didn't realize how bad abuse could get?"

"No, I haven't, but I see your point."

"You'd think at some point we'd stop being surprised." She clearly wanted to say more, but the office door opened and Sherlock came out.

"Let's go," he said to John, ignoring Donovan. Without waiting to see if John was following, he strode down the hall. John hurried to follow him.

John was certainly curious about what Lestrade had to say to Sherlock, but he also knew that if it was confidential enough to make him leave the room it wasn't something he was ever going to learn. He also expected a silent cab ride home and when Sherlock said, "Lestrade wanted to know if I would be taking cases from the Yard during Her trial," it took a few seconds for it to register.

"And you told him that you weren't going to, correct?" John guessed.

"You are correct. I will continue to take private cases as they come but I would like to be available for every day of the trial, if I'm needed." Sherlock's hands were curled into fists, and his voice was tight. John took that as a sign the conversation was finished (he certainly couldn't think of anything else to say), and the rest of the trip home was silent.

As soon as they were back home and in the sitting room, Sherlock flopped down on the sofa and wrapped himself around Hamish. By now John had gotten used to the large stuffed toy accompanying Sherlock as he went around the flat. He only occasionally did experiments now, but when he did Hamish was at his side, sitting on a stool of his own. Every morning he came downstairs with the bee tucked under one arm, only putting him down when something required two hands. In that event, Hamish would be placed on the sofa, and John knew better than to move the toy. Most importantly, Hamish got brought up to bed every night. Sherlock would wrap his arms around the bee and hug it to his chest. Only then was John allowed to get in himself.

For the first few nights after Sherlock's combination nightmare/flashback, John had waited for Sherlock to ask him to sleep in his bed again. He always said yes. After a few nights of this, John took the initiative and asked if Sherlock was still okay with this. "It's fine," was all he would ever say. After a few weeks, John didn't ask one night and merely came up to Sherlock's room shortly after he and Hamish had gone upstairs. Sherlock didn't object and the next morning he stated, "Consider the current state default unless I say otherwise," a typically Sherlockian response. Sharing a bed with someone who you were sexually attracted to, who themselves had admitted being romantically interested in you, and still not having any sex or intimacy was odd to John. He'd shared a bed with nonrelated people before, but there it had been more along the lines of endless complaints about who was taking up the most room. Since Sherlock always held Hamish in his arms the two of them didn't touch at all. Their heads were close to each other, but their lower bodies stayed far away.

Of course, Sherlock didn't always go to bed. John still spent nights in his room when Sherlock spent the night pacing around downstairs, or vanished for whatever reason. The closer the trial got the more he seemed to do that, to the point where John only saw him sleep twice a week or so. He wondered if it was the same problem that led to the shredded bedsheets, and unobtrusively bought a pile of identical ones that he left in Sherlock's closet, but John didn't check to see if they'd been used. He figured that Sherlock needed some privacy about that. It was the same reason he left Sherlock alone to get dressed for bed. John knew that Sherlock had only started to wear clothes when he slept because of John being there, and that way he didn't have to make a big deal out of it.

"You should sleep in your room tonight." Sherlock broke the silence even though he still faced the sofa back and not the room. "I won't be sleeping for some time."

"Are you going out this evening?" John asked.

"Phillip left a message saying he wanted to meet with me alone. I will be meeting him at Angelo's in one hour." He paused. "I have some other things to do after that and will likely get in quite late."

"I'll see you in the morning, then." John then went to the kitchen to try to scrounge up something for dinner, and by the time he finished making something Sherlock was heading out the door without a word. Hamish was still on the sofa, and John didn't touch him. The quiet evening that followed helped calm his nerves about the approaching trial. Even so, when he fell asleep later that night his dreams were filled with K's smug grin as she walked out of the courthouse while hearing "Not guilty" from the faceless jury.

It only stopped around three in the morning, when he woke to the sound of Sherlock pacing downstairs. He lay in bed for a few minutes, hearing Sherlock say "I must, I must, I must," over and over again. Knowing that Sherlock was so anxious about the trial didn't make John feel any better, but when he fell back asleep he had no more dreams.