Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXXVII • 77

Your POV:

"What did you do, Sherlock?" You gazed at the television as you spoke into the phone.
Every major news channel showed snaps of him in Scotland Yard and clips as he left. It was dubbed in four languages- breaking news.
"What?" He seemed concerned. "What's wrong?"
You chuckled. "Turn the telly on, Sherlock."
"Wha- okay." There was a pause as he did what you'd requested.
"Well that was efficient." He said, after a moment.
You shook your head in amusement. "Stay out of trouble, Sherlock." You said, a smile playing on your lips. This was as good as a farewell when speaking to him, and he acknowledged you, then hung up.
He hated the phone, you knew that. You were surprised that he'd picked up at all, but you supposed he probably still felt like he owed you. He really didn't, but convincing him of that was easier said than done.

******

When you arrived home that evening, John, Sherlock and Greg were gathered in the sitting room, the latter chewing nervously at his fingernails.
Sherlock was rolling his eyes. "What did you ever do without me?" He asked sarcastically, ignoring John's warning look but smiling sweetly when he saw you. You raised your eyebrows.
"It was a mess." Greg admitted.
"Well, go ahead. What's going on?" Sherlock asked in monotone, although you could tell he was trying to hold back his imminent excitement. You sat on the arm of his chair, focusing your attention on Greg.
He grimaced, then began. "Over the past two months or so, bodies began turning up intermittently in River Lea. There was never a specific cool off period, some bodies were found on the same day, others up to three weeks apart. There doesn't seem to be any pattern whatsoever. The only thing that connects them at all is the cause of death- hemlock poisoning that resulted in drowning- and where the victims are coming from..." He trailed off.
Sherlock's hands were steepled under his chin in his customary posture, and now he opened his eyes. "And where's that?" He asked, trying to stay patient.
"Creswick Road Children's Home." He said, tight faced.
You drew in a sharp breath.
"You mean someone is kidnapping, holding, poisoning and drowning orphans?" You asked, disbelief and disgust lacing your voice.
Greg nodded sadly.
You glanced at Sherlock. His teeth were clenched, and from the subtle indications he displayed, you knew he was just as repulsed as you, although he managed to stay professional. "How many bodies have been found?"
"Seven have been recovered, three are currently missing."
"You have the information on the children?" Sherlock asked, standing up abruptly.
Greg nodded, taking a file from his coat and handing it over. Sherlock glanced at it, then, "Thank you. I'll stay in touch."
Greg nodded gratefully and left the flat. Sherlock shut the door, his attention already fully fixed on the papers in his hand.
You peered over his shoulder as he sat down once again.
The report made your stomach turn. Seven innocent, helpless children, who'd already lost their families, being plucked from their surrogate home only to be tortured and killed.
You gnawed on your lip, trying desperately to ignore the personal aspect of this case.
Sherlock saw you struggling. He closed the case file and looked up at you. "(F/N), you don't have to help if it's too... experiential."
You swallowed the lump in your throat. "No. No it's fine, I want these three kids to get back safe. That'll be better than any therapy." You insisted. He looked at you uncertainly. "You know, there is no..." He spoke carefully, "There's no guarantee that they can get back."
"I know." You mumbled, but refused to let your tears fall. "It's worth the effort."
He nodded respectfully and reopened the file.

Zachary Cooper age 9
Phoebe Khan age 11
Bailey Parker age 13
Jake Hunter age 7
Art Reynolds age 16
Mickey Brookes age 12
Spencer Bennett age 9

All of these children had lost their lives for absolutely no reason but the sick pleasure of a psychopath.

Those were the kids who's time had already been cut short.
Sherlock turned the page.
Three more smiling faces stared up from the page, their faces locked forever in the beam that they'd been photographed with. It seemed wrong, for them to be smiling like that.
Siblings; 14 year old Alondra Cairns and her 6 year old twin sisters, Elizabeth and Victoria.
Sherlock set the papers down and steepled his hands.
"What is it?" You asked. He didn't usually stop his scrutiny of a case file so suddenly unless he'd come across something.
"Why sisters?" He mumbled. "None of the other victims were related at all. Does the killer have a relationship with this family at all? Were they his original target, his end game?" He muttered this, only half audible.
You thought about this for a long moment. There didn't seem to be any reason for the killer to suddenly change his victimology, in fact, abducting sisters could very well make things more difficult for him as they could work together against him. Twins especially often shared an unspoken bond, and siblings without parents were likely closer still. This sudden change didn't make any sense unless they were his end game.
In that case, they didn't have much time left.