Sherlock's Love Interest (BBC Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"This is bloody ridiculous!" exclaimed John a week later.

"What is?" asked Molly as she made supper for the three of them.

"Four people now have asked for Sherlock's help on the exact same things."

She chuckled. "Isn't that pretty common?"

"Yes, but it's all kidnapped kids, on Tuesday at three. Even more parents are begging him to come work this case so their kids don't go missing. They're pulling everyone inside at two and not letting them out until after supper."

"That's strange. No bodies?"

"None. Here it is," he looked down at his mobile when it began to ring. "I was expecting Greg to ring me on this."

She smiled and turned to her pasta as he talked on the phone. "Tastes excellent," said Sherlock as he popped up from his back room. Apparently he had moved many of his things to the basement with Molly's, but more of it went to an extra room Mrs. Hudson had that she let him use free of charge, so long as he didn't mess up the walls, ceiling, floors, or furniture. So far, he hadn't.

"How do you know?"

"You made this last Christmas."

She nodded. "Ah."

"That case John was talking about, what do you make of it?"

This was the first time he'd asked her this, and she flushed under his stare. "I-I think it's a psychopath, honestly. Something happened that made them snap, and I have no idea what he's doing with the kids, but he won't stop until he's caught. Somehow the kids aren't good enough, so whatever kind of OCD he has keeps him from grabbing them at any time other than three on Tuesday."

"An obsessive-compulsive psychopathic kidnapper." He nodded. "I'll have to see one of the crime scenes before I can agree with that, but it is a logical theory."

"Thank you. As soon as John's finished, we'll be ready for supper."

The next day Sherlock dragged John with him to the abduction site of the most recent kidnapping, while Molly went off to the morgue.

Sherlock found that she was right. Every footprint, every breath, seemed to have been placed exactly. The child had been walking in a park when he was grabbed. His mother was yelling for him to come back, because of the rumours of kids going missing, but he didn't listen to her.

"He's quick. She came running through there," he pointed at a thin wall of trees, "only seconds after he had been grabbed. He had a car waiting just there," he nodded to the street, "that was running and had the doors open."

He turned from talking to John to Greg. "If four children can go missing over four-weeks' time from different places, you should be putting up more security cameras."

"I'm working on it."

His phone started ringing and he grimaced at it before he saw who it was. "Hello, Molly."

"You need to get down here. I just saw three bodies being carted in, and they were small, like a child's."

"Ten minutes." He hung up and took another look around. "Off we go then."

"Where?" asked John. "What's going on now?"

"Molly's got the bodies of three of the kids." He hailed a cab and climbed in. "Bart's hospital."

The cabbie nodded and turned around.

Molly was trying to identify the bodies according to the disappearances, but it wasn't adding up. When Sherlock arrived, she felt a load off her chest because she knew he would figure out why.

"These aren't the same faces."

"But the DNA matches," she said. "And I've tried looking for a way to take off the mask if that's what it is, but I can't. It's seamless."

John stood back watching as Sherlock poked around the boy's neck and face. "It does appear-ah ha, here it is." On the back of the boy's neck was a small lip, a part of the mask that didn't completely seal.

"Someone went to great lengths to make sure no one could figure out who this was," said John.

"Or," Sherlock pulled the cover off the next's head, "He didn't like what the boy looked like. I highly doubt he's smart enough to put on a mask that tightly just to leave it. Where were they found?"

"In the woods of the park nearby."

"Interesting." He pulled the mask off the girl and compared the two. "Nearly identical, apart from a few things that make it feminine."

"Did he lose a kid or something?" Both Sherlock and Molly looked back at John. "What?"

"You're brilliant!" exclaimed Sherlock. "He lost his own child who was around nine years old on Tuesday at two in the afternoon. He recreates his son's death, then immediately searches for another!"

He tossed his coat and scarf at John before hurrying to the lab. Neither of them knew what he was doing, but that was nothing out of the usual.

An hour later Sherlock stood and walked out of the room, to the hall where John and Molly were talking. He grabbed his coat from John and said, "John, you're going to the other crime scenes. Molly, you're coming with me."

"I can't. I'm in the middle of my shift."

"And your boss won't mind of you step out of the morgue to prevent more deaths. A child's life is on the line." She nodded mutely. She had never liked seeing children in the morgue.