Author Note: Here we are again. Sorry for the long delay. I had a really hectic semester and then found it hard to return to the story. I have already started work on the next chapter so hopefully it won't take as long for the next one but I make no promises. There will only be one or two more chapters after this.

Disclaimer: Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt

Chapter 12: The Usual Next Step

Step to the right. Duck. Left. Back. Kick.

L let his instincts guide him as he moved and dodged the long limbs striking out at him. Speed and evasion were key. His smaller stature gave him that advantage. He also had surprisingly painful kicks when he managed to hit his target. He ignored the forming bruises and kept going. He had to make it all second nature. It wasn't about taking down his opponent; he wasn't strong enough for that yet. It was about surviving long enough to flee. One slip up and he would be a goner.

"What are you doing?"

L flinched as his distraction cost him another bruise.

"Honestly, John, I think it is obvious what is happening?" Sherlock replied. He kept his eyes on L, judging the boy's still ready position. He nodded and finally stepped away.

"That's not…you know what I mean. You aren't supposed to…" The doctor sighed.

"He forced me." L said, now that Sherlock had paused in his assault.

"Snitch." Sherlock mumbled, heading for the kitchen. L smirked to himself when he spotted the slight limp in his step. He had got the man's shin pretty hard.

"Course he did."

John glared after the man but didn't pursue further. Instead, he moved to check L's bruises. He sighed at the books that now littered the floor. They had clearly been stepped on at some point as the two had bounded about the room. L must have been improving though as there fewer bruises this time around. If only Sherlock would wait till John was there to supervise before suddenly attacking the boy.

"It has to be unexpected, John. He'll see it coming if you're here hovering." Sherlock always said when he brought it up.

John did approve of L learning how to defend himself. He drew the line at teaching him how to use a gun. He decided they would wait till he was a bit older at least. He wouldn't be surprised if he came home one day and Sherlock had already given L a crash course though, so John's been carrying his gun on him. Sherlock had sulked about that for a bit.

Sherlock came back from the kitchen. John smiled at the icepack he was carrying. No one said anything as he handed it over to L with his usual dismissive air. Sherlock didn't protest when John got an icepack for his shin though he did pout at having been caught attempting to hide an injury. John relished the peace and quiet as he watched the two tend to their injuries. As usual, it didn't last long but he wasn't sad to see it go.

"Sherlock!"

John couldn't help but smile as Sherlock perked up at Lestrade's voice, already springing from his chair, injury long forgotten.

"Murder?"

Lestrade took a moment to catch his breath from his run up the stairs.

"Yeah. Donovan is already on the scene."

"Shame you had to leave before you could finish chatting up that teacher at the coffee shop."

Lestrade just rolled his eyes and headed for the stairs, not fazed in the slightest. John helped L ease his coat on, sighing at the boy's slight winces. Sherlock rushed for his coat, not slowed by his pain. John wondered if he was even feeling it in his excitement. The man did ignore his hunger on a daily basis.

The crime scene was the parking lot of an old department store. The store had closed a year or so before, but no one had bought the land just yet, so the building remained. Sherlock crouched d own to get a close look at the body. The blonde woman was young, late 20s or so, single, worked at a bar, only child and lived alone. He then focused on the stab wound in her chest.

It was precise, showing experience with a knife. He hit where he wanted but it hadn't been smooth. Something made the killer's hand unsteady. Not hesitation. There weren't any signs of a struggle so the victim fighting back wasn't the cause. He could still deduce what was used to kill her from the shape of the wound. The shape and size of the blade was unique…and familiar.

"I see you still haven't caught that assassin yet." Sherlock spoke but kept his eyes on the body.

"You mean she's one of his?" Lestrade asked. Scotland Yard had brought Sherlock a couple of murder cases that month. All the victims had been business men or men with high influence. He knew with a glance that it was the work of an assassin but there hadn't been enough to track him down. Lestrade was still doing his best on it.

"I have my men looking at the victims." Lestrade said.

"No point. Killer is a professional. Hired. The victims had numerous enemies. No direct connection to him even if you find who hired him."

She wasn't like the other targets. A nobody. Bar worker barely getting by. Knows nobody of significance.

"She wasn't a target."

"What?"

"She wasn't a target. She wasn't supposed to be killed. There was no reason he would even know her. They probably hadn't even crossed paths on the streets."

He didn't know her so why was his hand unsteady? Was the killer weakened? Injured? It didn't seem that way with how deep the wound was. Was it some emotion then that made his hands unsteady? A complete stranger…but still emotionally invested? Panic? Anger? Or…

"She saw something. That's why she had to die."

He stood up and looked around the parking lot again. It was clear the moment he stepped on the scene that the woman hadn't been killed there. The killer did try to hide that fact, but it clearly wasn't a big concern for him. He must have assumed that the woman wouldn't connect to him even if she were found. There was no personal connection at all. No one he knew would be connected to her either. She was a complete stranger. She simply stumbled upon something that cost her dearly.

What did she see that put the killer at risk? Was it one of the murders? The murderer himself? Or…was it something more personal? Something the killer didn't want anyone to see. Not necessarily incriminating but important enough to kill to protect.

"Whatever she saw, it wasn't here."

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Beatrix Weaver worked at The Jazzy Maid bar so that's where they headed. She was still dressed in her uniform so she either never made it to work or never made it home. All they could do was retrace her steps as best as they could and see where she might have been killed. No one was in the bar at such an early time but there was an older woman cleaning the bar counter. Her nametag revealed her name was Lisa. She smiled as they approached. The smile fell when she spotted L.

"Sorry Sir, you can't bring children in here."

"We are not here to drink so unless you are stupid enough to serve him there is no issue." Lisa stood, mouth agape. Sherlock continued on before she could react.

"Do you know Beatrix Weaver?"

"Beatrix?" The sudden shift in topic worked to distract her and jolt her into speech. "Yes, she works here."

"Did she make it to work yesterday?"

"I'm sorry…who are you?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this but Mrs. Weaver was murdered." John cut in before Sherlock could offend the woman further. "We're working with the police to find out what happened."

"Oh god…Beatrix." The woman's eyes immediately filled with horrified tears. "She is such a swe...was such a sweet girl."

John let the woman speak, ignoring the impatient twist of Sherlock's lips. The other man kept quiet though.

"She didn't talk to others much, but she was nice and had such a beautiful smile. She sure loved music. Could recognize most songs instantly. The moment her shift ended she'd turn on her iPod and pop earbuds in her ears. It made saying goodbye rather hard." Lisa laughed a bit at that, but it was choked up.

"You could always hear her coming with how loud she played it. Don't know how she wasn't deaf."

There was a long mournful silence from the woman then, so John decided to speak up.

"I'm sorry but we need to ask you a few questions." She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes.

"Of course. Whatever you need."

"Did she make it to work yesterday?" Sherlock asked again, stepping forward.

"Yes, she works the last shift of the night."

"So, she left here an hour or so after midnight?"

"Yes."

"Did she act differently than usual? Or say something out of the ordinary?"

"No. She came here with her music like always and got to work like usual. She did complain about having to take a detour on her way here but nothing else."

"A detour?"

"She didn't really go into it much."

"How does she commute?"

"She walks. Always told her it wasn't safe to walk home at such an hour." The tears started coming back.

"Where does she live?"

"She had a small place on Church Lane. Awful neighbors from what she's told me." Sherlock pulled his phone out halfway through, looking something up.

"That's all we need." He said, cutting Lisa off as she started to relay a story about one of the neighbors. The man headed for the door without another glance at the woman, phone still in hand.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for your loss." John said genuinely but still in a rush before hurrying after Sherlock.

Sherlock got Weaver's address from Lestrade and found that there was construction work being done on the streets between there and the bar. Several blocks were closed off as the work was being done. Weaver would have had to take a different route in order to get to work. Using google maps, which is what she would have done, they determined that there were several alternate routes that she could have taken. They just had to figure out which one she took and find the exact spot that she ran into her killer. Rather than checking out all the routes themselves, Sherlock decided to take another look at the body and see if they could find anything there that would help narrow it down.

Molly greeted them with a bright smile, happily pulling out the body for them to look at. She stood back with a fond grin as Sherlock pounced, scanning every inch of it. The man took samples of oils and other substances off the body to analyze. He also wanted to take another look at her shoes, so he sent John to pick them up from Scotland Yard. He wanted to just ask Lestrade to drop them off, but John figured the man was busy enough already. L stuck around with Sherlock and watched the man peer through the microscope. Sherlock had been using the microscope back at the flat to teach L some chemistry and forensics so he could have followed along, but it seemed today was one of the days where Sherlock was a bit too absorbed to include L in the process. It no longer bothered L when this happened as Sherlock had started spending more time with him outside of cases. Instead of helping, L wandered over to Molly.

The woman was cleaning up some tools she had used earlier. She threw him a small smile and continued wiping down her tools. She seemed content, not bothered at all to have Sherlock or L in her workspace. L thought back on when he first met her. It was almost jarring to see how she had changed since Sherlock's return. Her guilt faded after some time and she no longer scurried off if stuck alone with L or John. There was a new confidence about her that hadn't been there before. She knew Sherlock now too, really knew him, so he could no longer manipulate her so easily. Not that the man tried anymore. The final showdown with Moriarty helped him realize just how important she was to him. He started treating her like a friend, still learning how to do so but trying. Molly, in turn, became another pillar of support for him. She always was one really, even when Sherlock wasn't aware of it.

"Thank you…" Molly jumped at the sudden break in silence, nearly dropping a scalpel. She turned her head to look questioningly at him.

"…for always being there for Sherlock." L slowly finished. Molly stared, stunned a moment, then slowly put the scalpel down. She rested her weight on the counter and sighed. There were so many different emotions behind it that L was sure he didn't quite catch them all. She smiled though so he guessed she wasn't overall hurt or upset.

"It wasn't always…easy," she paused, gaze glazing over slightly in remembrance. L had an idea what she was thinking of but couldn't really claim to know just what she had went through emotionally. He said nothing and let her push on. Her smile turned fond and affectionate with a tinge of sadness.

"…but I'm glad to have been there for him. He seemed so alone when I met him. It didn't seem right. So brilliant and yet so alone. I'm glad he has found such great friends."

She smiled over at John as he returned, Sherlock rushing to his side to take the shoes from him without sparing the doctor a word or glance. John smiled fondly and trailed after him as he moved back to the microscope.

"Like John." She smiled at L and softly ruffled his hair. "And you."

L stayed quiet a moment, lost in memories of cold nights in alleyways and cruel jeers and sneers. Baker Street then came to mind. Its warmth and chaos, John's fussing and Sherlock's deep voice soothing the momentary ache inside him. He smiled.

"I'm glad he found me too."

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Sherlock found traces of pollen from several flowers, soil and some fruit on Weaver's shoes. They went back to the streets and found a flower shop with flowers that matched what they were looking for. It was located between the bar and her address so she could have walked nearby. What really cemented it was the fruit stand a block away. Sherlock went around and managed to determine her exact route. They just now needed to find where she was killed. There wasn't going to be any obvious residue bloodstains given the assassin's professionalism. They needed to find something else to determine the exact location. It had gotten dark by then, but Sherlock pushed them to keep searching into the night.

"So what are we looking for exactly, Sherlock?"

"Weaver always carried her iPod with her and yet it was nowhere to be found on her body. She still had her purse and her wallet. Nothing else was taken and yet it's missing." Sherlock said, carefully looking down at the ground as he walked.

"It wasn't broken when she went to work and yet it's gone now. She had it on her when she was killed. So…either she dropped it while she was killed or the assassin himself took it. The assassin wouldn't take it to keep, that doesn't fit his MO at all. If he did take it, he would have disposed of it, possible near where she was killed. Either way we have to find what we can of it. It'll tell us where she was killed."

"So why are we looking at night? Wouldn't it be easier to see during the day?"

"All the mindless masses passing by will disrupt the feel of the crime scene. Also, it happened at night. We'll learn what she could see at this time."

John sighed but quietly followed along, directing his torch to the ground. Sherlock stopped suddenly. He was staring at this rather large building. In front, was a small lot and there were alleyways on both sides of it. He started towards it with John and L following. Sherlock slowed at the halfway point. He looked around then turned to John.

"John, you go that way." He pointed towards his left. "L and I will go the other way. Do a wide sweep and make sure to check near the building and the alleyway; she could have been dragged into it or near the wall."

"Got it."

John set off with careful steps, torch sweeping across the ground. L and Sherlock did the same with their own torches. They covered the area between the street and the building then followed along the wall towards the alleyway. Sherlock paid special attention to the distance between the street and the building. The streetlights lit up the sidewalk enough for Sherlock to see a man walk by. The man never noticed them as they were lost in shadow and the man was too busy chatting on the phone with someone. His wife judging by his defensive tone. That made Sherlock pause a second. They were far enough to see those walking by but not be seen and yet close enough to hear them too.

Both froze when they suddenly heard someone else's breathing. It was harsh and uneven, a sharp contrast to their own even breath. Sherlock pushed L back carefully, being as quiet as possible. Once the boy was a decent distance behind, Sherlock turned his torch towards where he could faintly see a dark mass while L turned his own torch off.

The man kneeling on the ground was of a bulky size from muscles rather than excessive fat. His muscles were proportional and the way he held himself even in such a position showed he was a trained fighter. It was rather surprising that he hadn't noticed them until he was literally blinded by the torch. Sherlock saw why when the light shone on his face and reflected off tears tracks. He started to piece it all together then.

Sherlock cursed himself. The woman died because she saw something. The location itself being important was unlikely but not impossible. He should have prepared for the chance that the killer might return there even so soon after the murder. He hadn't and now it was too late.

Sherlock shifted to better block L from view. He had to keep the assassin's eyes on him no matter what. One of his specialties. He pushed the anxiety down and slid his foot forward a smidge, not enough to provoke, with a confident smirk. Even if it couldn't be seen properly, it was important to carry an air of confidence so when he spoke it was steady and all knowing. It helped that he did know all now.

The man snarled and rose to his feet, showing the demeanor of an angry bear rather than a trained fighter. That made him all the more dangerous. Naturally, he was armed as well. Sherlock needed to stall. L was still behind him, but he knew it would take only a second for L to realize Sherlock would need help. He had to keep the assassin's attention on him so the boy could slip away.

"Was this why you killed her?" Sherlock made sure to project his voice and not falter at all. "Because she saw you here?"

Sherlock could see the tension building in the assassin's muscles. He was furious but Sherlock's words were still reaching him.

"She didn't actually see you though, did she? Perhaps you thought she did, or perhaps her being near was offense enough."

"Who was it? Who was killed here? Who were you mourning when she walked by, music blaring?"

The man lunged. Sherlock rushed forward himself; he couldn't dodge with L right behind him. He met him head on and managed to land an elbow jab to his face. He heard the scrape of shoes on concrete behind him and knew L had escaped. He just had to hold out until John came to help.

L found John quickly since he was making his way towards them, the remains of Weaver's iPod in hand. John tossed it into his pocket and rushed after L as they hurried back to Sherlock. L froze once he saw how fierce the struggle was. Sherlock was doing his best, but the assassin wouldn't go down so easily. Both had split lips and Sherlock had a bloody nose. There were probably some nicks and bruises that L couldn't see as well. Sherlock soon found himself tossed over the man's shoulder. He gasped as his back met harsh concrete, momentarily stunned. His assailant wasted no time and straddled him. He pinned Sherlock down and brought the knife up.

"Father!"

Sherlock froze. All his racing thoughts of how to defend and counterattack quieted instantly. He was completely thrown off track, barely noticing John tackling the man. That one word kept buzzing around in his head. His head and gaze turned to find L running over to him. He hovered, checking him over. He didn't hear anything else the boy said though.

A familial attachment was expected. It was natural but he didn't expect it to ever be openly acknowledged or addressed. He saw the exact moment L finally registered just what was preoccupying Sherlock. The boy froze as well, paling slightly. Clearly, he thought the same as he as usual. There was no taking it back though, not entirely. It was up to Sherlock how they would proceed. Should he ignore it, or should he accept it?

The assassin crying out in pain broke through the jumble. It wasn't the time for any of that. Sherlock gave L a look before jumping up to help John. L kept quiet and stayed where he was, out of the way and out of danger. They both knew they would discuss it later. Once Sherlock figured out just how he felt about it.

With John there to help, they managed to knock out the assassin. Lestrade was quickly called and he took over from there. John tended to Sherlock when they returned to the flat. There were no serious injuries, but his right arm did need a couple stitches. John took care of it since Sherlock refused to go to hospital. They learned from Lestrade the next day that he looked into assassin and learned that Sampson Duke's wife had been killed in that alleyway a couple years ago. Duke kept on killing but grew more and more unstable as time went on and Beatrix Weaver happened to be there when he was mourning. The sound of her music and her cheery humming finally made him snap. It was a tragic reminder that anyone could be there one moment then gone the next

"Okay...what's going on? You two are acting strange." John asked the next day, eyeing the two where they sat in their usual places.

Sherlock was clearly deep in thought while L looked like someone waiting for the axe to drop. John could see that that it was clearly connected. He didn't like being left out when it came to the two. Sherlock kept his faraway stare so John expected he would have to ask again. Sherlock answered though.

"L called me father." He said bluntly. It was decided after Sherlock returned that he wasn't to keep things from John if he didn't have to and even then, it was arguable. L jumped, not quite expecting that. John stood with his mouth hung open. It seemed they were all caught off guard.

"Well…"

John wasn't sure how to respond to that. It certainly explained the strange atmosphere. It probably would have been better if Sherlock waited till L was out of the room to discuss this. John supposed that was his fault really, asking when he did. He knew Sherlock wasn't always keyed in to situations of this nature. There was no reason for L to leave then though, it was too late.

"It has been proven that children will start to develop familial attachments to adults that have significant influence in their lives. It is no surprise then that L has assigned me the role of father given that you and I are the ones he lives with and has had the most interaction with." John sighed.

"Sherlock…" John cut in. Sherlock knew that tone well. How he wished he could ignore it and continue to search for some way out.

L seeing him as a father wasn't exactly unwelcome but at the same time...it scared him. Having L live with them and guiding him as a mentor was one thing. Being a father figure was something Sherlock knew he would never be. At least he believed he would never be. It seemed that was no longer the case. There was no way he could ever be a good father to anyone. There was so much responsibility in that…so much dependence on him in a way he was lacking. Teaching L how to deduce and be a detective was easy. Teaching him in terms of anything to do with emotion and sentiment when Sherlock himself was only now letting himself feel and learn such things…what a disaster that would be. He'd make a real mess of the boy. He would end up like him. Sherlock could now admit that such a thing was not good.

"Sherlock."

John's voice and touch pulled him from his swirling panic. Looking in the doctor's soft gaze, Sherlock didn't doubt that John knew every thought that crossed his mind. He didn't look worried in the slightest though. He had faith in Sherlock. L clearly did too. The boy, as bright and brilliant as he was, wouldn't rely on anyone incompetent. He wouldn't trust just anyone with something like this. He knew Sherlock well and still called him father.

Sherlock still found his thoughts spiraling out of control if he thought about it too much. However, he trusted John and L. If they believed he could do be such a person for L, then he would believe too.

He took a deep breath before standing. John smiled and backed up to let him pass. L didn't run or hide when Sherlock walked over to join him on the couch. He met the boy's anxious yet determined gaze head on.

"I would be happy and honored to be your father."

L's face brightened up once the slight disbelief faded. Sherlock wasn't quite done though.

"Would you allow me to call you my son?"

L clearly hadn't expected that but whatever doubts he might have still had regarding his importance to Sherlock didn't stop him. Sherlock couldn't recall a time when L smiled so brightly.

"Of course, Father."

There was a moment of mutual hesitation before they both moved in for a small, tentative hug. The warmth that bloomed in his chest was foreign and yet familiar. He felt it whenever John gave him his warmest smile, whenever Mrs. Hudson would fondly scold him, whenever Lestrade showed how much he trusted him and he even recalled feeling it back when he was a young child and Mycroft held him close while they read pirate stories together. To think that at one point he had tried to forever remove himself from such a feeling. Thankfully, such times were past him.

L, encouraged and reassured, turned to John once the hug ended.

"Do I also get to call you Dad?" He had no hesitation asking that. That meant that L saw Sherlock as the biggest hurdle. Sherlock couldn't deny he was right in thinking that.

John had a similar look of panic as Sherlock for a moment but embraced the idea a lot faster.

"Well John, it looks like we have a son together now. I suppose you can no longer deny that we are a couple." Sherlock smirked as John shook his head at the old joke. The doctor was smiling though, and it wasn't like he hadn't stopped denying that ages ago anyway. Sherlock said nothing more and just watched his son smile at John.

His son...

It would take some getting used to, then again maybe not.

Author Note: The case was meant to be secondary so I didn't really put effort into making anything grand. I just knew how I wanted it to end so sorry if it's a bit predictable or full of conveniences. I also took a big break halfway through so I lost some inspiration for the chapter, even with my notes on it. Hopefully, you all enjoyed it nonetheless.

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