"How did your meeting go?"
John turned his head in surprise. After eating lunch he'd picked up a book he was reading and he'd got so lost in it that he'd forgotten Sherlock was still in the room. "Well," he cautiously said. "It's fine if you never have anything to do with it," he added, just to ease Sherlock's mind.
"Good," he replied in a flat tone. "While you were there the solicitors for the case rang me."
"Lou and Susan?" John said automatically.
"Those were the names. They told me that I am supposed to testify after all the other victims."
"That'll be at least a few weeks," John said. "I know they're trying to get all the others to testify first."
"Correct. Once Phillip is through testifying as well as Sarah, Sagnik Malakar will testify, then Jennifer, her parents, and her former foster mother, then Thomas Davidson and his parents, then Graham and Christine and their mother's cousin, one of the Ehiwenma twins and their long term-foster carer, then Jordan Ping Yu, Alla Pinyakova, James Warren and the officer who brought him in for solicitation, and me. Lestrade and Donovan will testify after all the victims and Mrs. Murray is expected to testify at some point. There may be other witnesses." The recitation of the facts seemed to keep Sherlock calm; he sounded almost normal when he spoke.
"And?" John asked, guessing there was more to it.
"And they think it would be best if Phillip and I do not contact each other again until I testify."
"Oh." John took in a sharp breath. It made sense from the prosecution's perspective, of course. Considering the defense was keen to blame Sherlock any interaction between him and a witness might jeopardize the case. But it was also very clear that both Phillip and Sherlock benefited from their friendship. Sherlock was essentially Phillip's first friend, and Phillip looked up to him. Their shared experiences and mutual love of music cemented it. "That's going to be hard on him. He admires you." If he phrased his concern as being about Phillip it might be easier for Sherlock to digest.
"I was hoping to tell him about his father. Not right away, but before the court hearing." Despite his words, he didn't sound distressed. Or like he was feeling anything at all.
"When's that?"
"In two weeks."
"You might testify before then." John assumed the other victims would testify for a shorter period of time, because Phillip and Sherlock were the only ones with years of abuse to describe.
"Perhaps." The lack of emotion in his voice bothered John.
"You must have wanted to talk to him about testifying."
"Not in the specifics, of course, but he needed to be reminded he was doing the right thing."
"Do you think it might be easier if you meet with him with the prosecution there? They could at least make sure the conversation didn't get too descriptive." John couldn't be sure they'd even be open to that, but he knew in his gut that it would be better if Phillip and Sherlock were able to talk.
"Not feasible." Sherlock's tone made it obvious he considered the conversation closed. He turned around and put his head back on Hamish. In a few minutes he was asleep again. John suspected his fatigue came from his cocaine usage. Whatever caused it, he didn't stir again until John made dinner. Even then he only ate a few bites before heading upstairs again.
When John was ready to go to bed himself, he knocked on Sherlock's door. He got a wordless noise that indicated he could come in. "Do you want me here tonight?" he asked once he was inside. Sherlock wasn't sleeping but lying on his back with Hamish next to him. To John's surprise, Sherlock nodded, and John left to get ready for bed. He came back a few minutes later, turned off the lights, and crawled in.
John woke up the next morning to find Sherlock gone. Hamish was still on the bed, so he wasn't anywhere in the flat. He hoped that he hadn't gone out in search of drugs. While John knew he couldn't stop him from doing so, and knew from experience that trying to force an addict to change would backfire horribly, he also hoped that their conversation would have tempered the urge. For the first time he wondered if it had in fact worked the opposite way, and Sherlock was trying to blot it out by getting high again. The thought sat in his stomach so uncomfortably that he couldn't eat breakfast and remained as he headed out to the trial again.
Instead of looking for Lou and Susan like he had done before, John just went inside the courtroom right away. Most of the buffalo had not arrived yet, and they trickled in in twos and threes for about fifteen minutes after John sat down. When the prosecution finally came in, Lou raised his eyebrows at John before going to their table. "Court rise!" came a second later, and Judge Foster sat down.
Harvey went to the front shortly after and said, "The defense will now cross-examine Phillip Rodgers." Phillip was escorted again to the witness stand. He looked worse than he had on Friday; he was so pale he resembled a ghost. John could relate to how he felt.
"Good morning, Phillip," Harvey cheerily began.
"Good morning," he responded in a hoarse whisper.
"You live with your mother?"
"I do." Even though the question was easy to answer, Phillip still shrunk back in his chair.
"Do you have any other family?"
"My gran died when I was little. I don't know what happened to my dad. Mum said he ran off."
"You're in year nine at school?"
"Yeah."
"Do you like it?"
"Not really." His frankness caused the audience to laugh.
"Why not?"
"I don't pay attention."
"Daydreamer? Your head in the clouds?" Harvey looked smug, for what reason John couldn't figure out.
"Sometimes," he quietly responded.
"Making up stories?"
He shook his head. "No. Thinking about music or what I want to draw."
"Who's your friend at school?"
"No one."
"Why not?"
"No one wants to talk to me. They just tease me."
"But you like Dr. Martin." Harvey still looked smug, even though she hadn't gained anything yet.
"Sometimes," he whispered.
"Your mother let you spend time with her."
"Yeah, she did."
"Did you ever protest to your mother you didn't want to go there? Did you ever say anything to her about it?"
"No," said Phillip.
"So she thought that you liked it there."
"Yeah." Phillip didn't add that he wasn't close to his mother in the first place, and John knew that gave Harvey an actual point to go with.
"When your arm was broken. You didn't say to the doctor someone broke it deliberately."
"No one did, though. I don't think She was trying to break my arm, just hold it behind me so I'd get back on the bed." Phillip's voice broke halfway through the sentence and he squeaked out the rest of it. John expected the person who had laughed before to react, but there was no laughter, just silence.
"You said that you hadn't done that before. That time was the first you resisted."
"Yeah," Phillip said.
"You're a pretty big boy for your age." Harvey seemed triumphant at this point. John felt uneasy; he didn't like wherever this was going.
"I guess," said Phillip, who didn't seem to see the question as any different than others.
"So why was that the first time you resisted?"
"It was sometimes. Kind of nice?" He sunk down in his chair. "I didn't like Her putting things in me or telling me to do stuff with the little kids, but when She was done She'd cuddle with me. Hug me and let me sleep with Her. I liked that. And no one else liked me at all. If I didn't go with Her I'd get teased at school and Mum would yell at me at home and that would all still be there without Her. I thought a few times that I should tell Her I didn't want to see Her as much, but then I thought about how I'd never get anyone else to like me."
"Did you ever ask Her if you could choose what the two of you did?" Harvey used the capital letters, but not out of fear; she said it in a mocking tone, like Phillip couldn't possibly be afraid of K.
"No. Never."
"When you first told the police what you'd been doing, you asked if someone could help you if you were arrested."
"I did."
"Why'd you say that?"
"Because I did things. Just like Her."
"You were doing the same things she did?"
"On the other kids She brought to Her flat, yeah." Phillip shrunk down further in his chair, leaning away from Harvey.
"Why?"
"Because She told me to."
"You'd do anything she'd ask of you?" Harvey asked skeptically.
"No."
"Then why'd you do that?"
"I didn't want to hurt anyone else."
"But you knew you were hurting those children, right?"
"Yeah, but if I didn't She'd call the police on me."
"You said before you didn't want to hurt anyone else and now you say that if you didn't she'd call the police on you. Which one is it?" A few people sitting near John made disapproving sounds.
"Both."
"Why did you think if you didn't you'd hurt someone else?"
"Because She told me that. Because of what I did when I met Her." There were more disapproving sounds. John felt pleased by that; it was obvious Harvey's attempt to portray Phillip as a budding sexual predator just made it more clear he was a brainwashed and scared child.
"But you didn't go to the police?"
"I didn't want to go to jail."
"Even if you were breaking the law?"
"I don't think anyone wants to go to jail."
Harvey switched subjects. "You said your mother talked to Dr. Martin. She asked if you were behaving and Dr. Martin said you were."
"I did." He nodded.
"How well did your mother know Dr. Martin?"
"Not very well. The first time I remember having a medical She did it but after that it was other people. Mum talked to Her a few times. She called Mum first. Said She'd found me wandering around and She brought me to Her flat so I'd be safe."
"Did you mother ever say you spent too much time there?"
"No. I think she liked not having me underfoot. She's always working." Phillip sat up a little straighter.
"You said the other children at school tease you. Can you think of any reason for that?"
He slumped in his chair again, losing the little height he had gained last time. "I can't talk to people like normal people do. I know you're supposed to go up to them and ask for their name and what they like and all those questions but I never could do that."
"What do they say to you?"
"They call me 'Faggy Phillip,' and 'Zombie Boy.' Some of the kids who take music with me call me 'Foggy the Flute.' Sometimes they just ignore me." Phillip had turned red as he spoke; it was clearly something he found humiliating.
"If I told you that I had heard another story about how you broke your arm, what would you say?" Harvey asked.
John wasn't sure if this was designed to throw Phillip off guard or it was just another one of Harvey's abrupt segues. "I would say I told you what happened already," Phillip finally replied.
"And if Dr. Martin gave a different story?"
Phillip looked like he was trying to come up with a response that wasn't the obvious, "She's lying." After several seconds of silence he said: "I told you what happened."
"Because she told me you propositioned her."
Phillip went from red to ghostly pale in an instant. "I didn't."
Harvey continued on like she hadn't heard him. "When she refused you she said you got very angry and she had to restrain you."
"That's not true," he said in a hoarse whisper.
"You do understand it's your word against hers."
"I didn't, I wouldn't. I'd lock myself in my room when She wasn't around so if I got the urge to do it to anyone else I'd stop myself. And She said when I was eighteen we could get married and She'd be around all the time so all the others would be safe."
Harvey apparently had not expected Phillip to say something like that; she froze in mid-step. "Really?" she finally said in a tone of disbelief.
He nodded. "Yeah. It was something She promised me all the time."
"The court will adjourn for one hour," Judge Foster said before Harvey could further react.
As everyone filed out, John hoped that the break would do poor Phillip some good. He wandered down to the courthouse cafeteria for the first time. After a look at whatever was being served that day, he made do with a few biscuits and a cup of coffee. He ate sitting by himself in the mostly deserted cafeteria. While he knew the jurors ate elsewhere, he had expected to see a few of the reporters or buffalo. Then again, considering what he'd just seen, maybe they knew better than to risk whatever the cafeteria dished up.
He took his time eating and came back to the courtroom only a few minutes before the session began again. Phillip was led back up to the stand by the usher. He still looked pale, but there was a look of determination on his face.
Once again Harvey came up to the stand. "So Dr. Martin said she'd marry you someday?"
"Yeah," Phillip said, voice steady.
"When you would be an adult." She smiled.
"Once I turned eighteen. It'd be legal then."
"Why would you want to do that?"
"Because She said She loved me. No one else did."
Harvey took a step back and looked at Phillip. John could guess where she was trying to go - if K really was sexually attracted to children, it would seem odd if she wanted to marry one as an adult. Of course, she could easily be lying, and even if she wasn't John suspected that her desire to do so had nothing to do with sexual attraction and everything to do with having someone who would do anything she asked. "You must like her a lot to want to marry her, then," she said.
"I - sometimes," Phillip replied.
Apparently satisfied with this, Harvey changed the subject. "When the police brought you down to the station for skipping school, you didn't speak to them, but you spoke to Sherlock Holmes. Why?"
"He was nicer to me. He didn't just start asking me about my arm and why I wasn't in school. He knew which arm I'd broken even though I didn't have my cast on anymore and he knew that I played the flute." Even as Phillip spoke a small smile appeared on his face, like he was remembering something happy.
"You liked talking to him because he didn't ask you any questions?"
"Not at first." The smile faded. "We just talked for a little bit. He asked me about my drawing and he told me he played the violin. Then I mentioned my arm getting broken."
"Why then?"
"Because I thought he'd have asked me about it by then and he hadn't. I told him I didn't want to get in trouble."
"Did he ask you anything?"
"Yeah. He said that if I didn't want to answer I could just say so. I liked that. I told him how it happened and then he asked what we'd been arguing about. I said I didn't want to tell anyone that and he didn't ask me anything more about it." His face had once again become flushed.
"Did you tell him that?"
"Yeah I did."
Harvey made a disbelieving face. "And what did he say to you?"
"Nothing. I just started talking again. I told him about hearing my arm snap and how I went to Bart's."
"And that was that?"
"No, I told him some more things."
"What were they?"
"Then I asked since he was a detective, if he could help me if I got arrested. He said that he might be able to help me if I did. Then he asked why I was worried about it."
"What did you say to him?"
"I didn't know. Then he asked if someone said I had committed a crime." Although it was hardly the most intimate thing he'd revealed, Phillip turned away and looked down at the ground. "I said someone had."
"Did you tell him who it was?"
"No," Phillip whispered, still looking at the ground. "Then he asked if I'd been telling the truth when I said on the form when I broke my arm that I was having sex. I said I was."
"And he asked you about this person then?"
"If they were older than me."
"What did he ask you then?"
"Nothing. He said when he'd been my age he'd known someone like Her too. He didn't always like what they did but he still loved them."
"Did he tell you anything about this person?"
"Not on his own. I asked him if he'd been having sex with that person too and he said he had." Phillip visibly swallowed.
"Did he ask you anything more at all?" pressed Harvey.
"He told me that I probably loved whoever broke my arm but they were guilty of a crime."
"And what did you tell him then?"
"It wasn't like what he thought."
"What did you think he thought?"
"That She - whoever did it - was just mean and liked to hurt me. And it wasn't like that at all."
Harvey looked surprised, as if she couldn't tell what Phillip had said would help her client or not. "Did you tell him what it was like?"
"Not then."
"Why not?"
"I was too scared."
"But you didn't tell him who did it." Harvey stared directly at his head as if that would make Phillip look up.
"No. I told him Her middle name, because I remembered it from all the times I'd visited Her at Bart's. And I told him about the flat She took me to."
"And that was it?"
"Then one of the police came back and I left. He gave me his mobile number and told me to ring him if I had more to say."
"Did you tell your mother about this?"
"No." Phillip looked up again. "I just put the number in my mobile. I did ring him later that night because I was scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Being arrested. Because of those other kids."
"But why did you call him?"
"He'd been nice to me. I needed to tell someone about it."
"Why?" asked Harvey.
"I never did before. And he said he'd known someone like that and he understood. So I told him some things. Then I couldn't sleep and I rang him a few more times. He said I could talk to him whenever I wanted, and he didn't mind."
"Did you take him up on that offer?" Harvey made it sound almost sinister.
"Yeah. A bunch of times. Sometimes I'd tell him things about Her, even though I tried not to give him enough to figure out who it was."
"Why not? You knew he was working with the police to find this person."
"If he did I wouldn't have any other friends. At least that's what I thought at first."
"But you still told him things. Which one is it? Did you want to tell someone about what was going on or not?" She looked pleased at catching Phillip in a contradiction.
"I wanted to. I just didn't want to get arrested or get anyone in trouble."
"When you would talk, did he ever say anything about the person he claimed he'd known?"
"No." Phillip shook his head. "He told me about a friend he had from school and he said he understood a lot of what I was feeling, but he never said anything about that person."
"Was he there when you were presented with the line-up?"
"No."
Harvey's face fell; it clearly wasn't the answer she'd been expecting. "No further questions," she finally said.
As Phillip was lead out by the usher, Susan came up to the stand. "The prosecution calls Dr. Sarah Sawyer." A few seconds later a different usher escorted Sarah to the stand. She was the first witness so far in the trial that didn't look anxious. She even managed to smile at Susan.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Sawyer." Susan's tone held great respect.
"Good afternoon."
"For how long have you been practicing medicine?"
"Almost eight years. It'll be eight years in September."
"And how long have you worked at St. Bart's?"
"All of that time. I did my training there as well."
"What is your area of practice?"
"I'm a GP."
"Were you at work on January the third?"
"Yes, I was." While Sarah had been the most relaxed on the stand of any of the witnesses, the question made her stiffen.
"What happened on that date at approximately four PM?" Susan stepped back, as if to give her space to answer.
"It was near the end of my shift. I was told a patient had come in with a broken arm and was waiting in one of the examination rooms. I was somewhat surprised that it was a teenage boy all by himself."
"What was his name?"
"Phillip Rodgers."
"And what could you see that was wrong with him?"
"He was holding his right arm to his chest. He had a black eye as well. Boys his age roughhouse a lot, so that sort of thing doesn't alarm me on its own, but he hadn't mentioned it on the intake form. Before I looked at the form I asked him how he hurt his arm."
"What did he say?"
Sarah paused to consider the question. "At first he didn't say anything. That was when I looked over the intake form more closely and he'd written 'broken arm - fight' on it. So then I asked him who he'd been fighting with. He didn't say anything then either, but after a few seconds he said it had been a friend."
"Was that the whole of the visit?"
"No," said Sarah after a moment. "I read through the whole form and I noticed he said he was sexually active. He seemed so young that I checked his birth date and I saw he had just turned thirteen the previous day." She paused. "That raised warning bells for me. I told him I wanted to do a more complete examination and I got him in a gown. There was bruising on his thighs."
"Can you describe the bruising?"
"A dozen or so bruises on his upper thighs. Fingerprint-sized. From the way they were placed it looked like someone had forced his thighs apart. That made me think whoever broke his arm was the same one that he was sexually active with, and whatever they'd done that time wasn't consensual."
"Did you ask him about that?"
She shook her head. "No. He'd been so reticent about the broken arm I doubted he'd talk about it. So I just asked him what he'd been fighting about. He said, 'I just made someone upset.' I asked him then if it was true that he was sexually active and he said it was. I didn't want to push him so I didn't try to make conversation as I sent him to get an X-ray, gave him a shot of painkiller, and got a cast on him. While I was waiting for the last of the paper work to be done I said, 'Who are you sexually active with?' He said, 'I don't know,' and of course I knew that was rubbish but I didn't call him out on it. Then I said, 'Has he hurt anyone else besides you?' as casually as I could. It worked; he said, 'I'm just one of a hundred' before he could think about what I had said."
"Can you describe his mood?"
"Flat. Depressed. Evasive. All of that was what made me file a report for child abuse."
"No further questions," Susan said with satisfaction. She took her seat next to Lou.
Clark shuffled up to the stand. He didn't look very eager to question Sarah. John wondered if that was because she couldn't be as easily intimidated as a child. "You worked at St. Bart's at the same time Dr. Martin did, correct?"
"She started working there before my time. We worked together for about four years."
"Do you know why she left the position?"
"She apparently found a position in a clinic for the homeless she liked more." Every word Sarah said was measured, and John wondered if she was thinking of her earlier confession to him about her suspicions.
"Do you know of any complaints made about her during that time?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Do you know how long she had worked there before you arrived?"
"Four or five years, I think."
"Did you interact with her while she worked there?"
"Not off the job, but we chatted from time to time. I wouldn't call us more than casual acquaintances."
"Did you have any complaints with her work there?" Clark kept glancing towards the prosecution's table, like he was certain he'd be stopped at any minute.
"Not any I voiced," Sarah said carefully.
"There were ones you didn't?" Clark glared at Sarah.
"Well, there was one thing that I found... strange. Most of the time when you examine a child patient, there's a parent in the room. Obviously not with older children, but with ones that haven't reached puberty yet. She never let a parent come in when she examined children - and since she's a pediatrician all her patients were children. I asked her about it, since it wasn't the usual practice. She told me that parents often get hysterical when you need to do some invasive procedure, like immunizing them or having to prick a finger for blood. It was easier if they just waited outside."
"Do you find that to be the case yourself? With children and their parents?" Clark asked.
"Sometimes. But I've never asked them to leave the room unless the child requests it. Usually I explain what I'm doing and why. It also helps if the parent is allowed to look away." She looked right back at Clark, making it very clear she wasn't going to be intimidated by him.
Clark obviously got the message and switched subjects. "Are a great deal of your teenage patients sexually active?"
"The older ones, yes. Not so much the thirteen-year-olds."
"Even the males?"
"Even the males. Kids at that age have raging hormones but they're not quite sure what to do with them yet."
"If a thirteen-year-old was indeed sexually active, would they admit it so readily?"
"Some of them would."
"If a thirteen year old was so concerned about not identifying the person he'd been sexually active with, why would he admit it in the first place?" John resisted the urge to go and punch Clark. Hearing him call Phillip "sexually active" when that activity had consisted of years of assaults infuriated him.
"He would have known about the bruises on his thighs. Possibly he was hoping to pass them off as the result of rough sex."
Clark paused to look at his watch. "Did you ask him what he meant by being 'one in a hundred'?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"He wasn't talking about anything else. I got one remark from him when I caught him off guard. I wasn't expecting any more." Sarah sounded calm.
"But you called to report child abuse."
"Yes. He's got a broken arm, a black eye, and fingerprint size bruises all over his thighs. When you ask him how all this happened he refuses to tell you who's responsible and he seems afraid of talking to you. He says that he is sexually active but somehow doesn't know anything about the person he's active with. How many other explanations could there be?"
"No further questions," Clark said. He shuffled back to the table. Harvey glared at him, apparently not pleased by his performance.
Judge Foster banged his gavel. "The time is now six in the evening and the court is dismissed for the day. We shall begin session tomorrow at nine AM." The doors of the courtroom opened up and the audience filed out. John let himself be caught up in the crowd for the first time. He didn't feel up to speaking with Lou and Susan yet. The advantage of this meant that he got outside when the big crush of cabs were still there, and he headed home in less time than he had in the other two days.
When he got home Sherlock was there, to his relief. He was sitting on the floor with a roll of wrapping paper and some tape next to him. "It's for Moira. Belated birthday present," he said without turning around, predicting John's question.
"What is it?" John asked.
"Come and see," Sherlock replied. John came to stand over him. It was a periodic table, an exact copy of the one Sherlock owned. He had already wrapped it in bubble wrap. A large box sat waiting for it.
"That's a good idea." He quickly scanned the room for Hamish and saw him on the sofa.
"Mrs. Hudson brought up some food a bit ago. Said she didn't think you'd want to cook for a while."
"You're mailing it?" John pointed to the gift.
"Of course." He took the tube of wrapping paper and tore off a large section of it. Despite not having measured it, it still fit the gift.
John headed towards the kitchen. "You're eating dinner," he said as he opened the fridge.
"The prosecution rang me before you came back. They've talked to Phillip about not contacting me again until he testifies."
John froze halfway to the microwave. "I suppose they didn't tell you how he reacted?"
"They just stated he had been told." Sherlock sounded like he didn't want to discuss it.
John took the cue and went to heat up dinner. He made two plates and put one down next to Sherlock. At first he didn't acknowledge it, concentrating on wrapping and boxing up Moira's present. Only when he was done did he pick up the plate and sit down on the sofa. They ate in silence and once John was certain that the news wasn't on any more, he turned on the telly. Sherlock stayed at the other end, leaning on Hamish, pretending he wasn't interested in Top Gear. John felt somewhat relieved that he didn't appear to be high, but still couldn't find anything to say. Even when they went up to bed Sherlock merely nodded at him and gestured for him to come in to his bedroom. But for the first time, even though he still used Hamish as a large shield between him and John, he rested his hand on John's shoulder. Before he drifted off to sleep, John reminded himself that this was progress, of a sort. Even with that he couldn't fool himself into thinking that it meant Sherlock was ready to deal with his issues.