Lets Play A Game - Sherlock Fanfiction [Sequel to IBIY]

Chapter five - Joe Summers.

After an hour, Scotland's Yard finally made some progress and got a hit on the BOLO I told them about. I was currently in the back of a police car while we and other police in cars chased after a red van. We wasn't sure if it was the van we were after, but it was our best shot.  After ten minutes police cars had finally circled around the red van and trapped it . We stopped the car, and watched out the window as a boy in a white hoodie runs out. Lestrade and a few other police get out their cars and run up to the boy as he was trapped in a corner, whilst some get out and began to check the back of the red van.

"She's not here!"

I get out the car and trail up to Lestrade, looking towards the boy that the two police men were now pinning to the ground. One pulls his hat of his head before looking at Lestrade. Lestrade sighs in return and stops in his tracks. "That's not our guy. He would have been in primary school when the child abductor took his first victim."

True. I think, but he looks oddly familiar. I get an idea, and walk past Lestrade and towards the boy before pulling his jumper down. Just enough for me to see his neck. I ignore everyone's comments, such as what are you doing?! I stand back up and turn to Lestrade.

"Sorry, it's just that, well, according to that birthmark on his neck, you're quite right. This is not the man that took Joe Summers back in 2005.This is Joe Summers."

"What?  Really?" Lestrade looks at the boy in shock. "How did you know?"

"I remember seeing it on a picture of him when looking through some files. This boy is Joe Summers, Lestrade. This is the child abductors first victim."

***

Me, Lestrade and another police officer I learn was named Erin were sitting in the questioning room with Joe. He wouldn't talk, and I couldn't help but think that Sherlock would know what to do. He would help Joe, make him understand he is safe and that nothing will happen to him if he talks. I know that Sherlock was never one to make teenagers feel better, but in this situation I can't help but to think that he would know exactly what to say.

"Joe, please talk to me. We know who you are, your fingerprints confirmed it, so come on, tell me how you ended up in that van." Erin requires kindly. Joe still remains silent. 

The door to the room opens and a officer steps inside, "Miss. Moore, you have a visitor."

I give him a questioningly look, then excuse myself from everyone and leave the room. I make my way to reception and almost groan with irritation with I see Sherlock standing there with his hands in his pockets.

"What are you doing here?" I ask sternly, knowing that he could be in trouble for this. He doesn't seemed bothered, instead he holds up a packet of walkers crisps.

"Bringing you lunch." He chucks the bag at me and I catch it.

"You're not allowed to be here."

"Okay fine, I admit. Im curious. Have you captured the child abductor?" He asks, his voice a little quieter when he speaks. I look behind him and saw that the guards were no where to be seen, but I knew that they were around somewhere. 

"No, but we found Joe summers. We're questioning him as we speak. He's not talking though. We've got a psychiatrist coming, but I don't think it's going to make much difference. This kid just doesn't want to engage."

"Well, have you notified his parents?"

"Commissioner made the call. They're on their way. Should only take them an hour to fight through all the media outside."

"That's why I sneaked in through the fire exit. I lost the security guards outside, there probably looking for me."

"What?"

"Story of the century this is, though. Missing boy presumed dead, recovered after all these years."

"You need to go." I tell him, pushing him towards the fire exit so the media wouldn't attack him. He frowns.

"Hang on-"

"Go call John or something, if he's not busy at work."

"I can help you-"

"Bye, Sherlock." I say, cutting him of his sentence and closing the door when he was out. I couldn't help but to smirk a little, but I wasn't letting non of us get into more trouble by letting anyone know Sherlock helped me on a case. I turn on my heels and begin to make my way back towards the questioning room, and see Erin and Lestrade closing the door on their way out.

"We're giving him some time to think." Erin states.

"Cool, can I talk to him?"

Lestrade sighs, folding his arms. "Holland-"

"I'll be quick."

"We appreciate your help. But you're not him. We consulted him because he knows how to do this...You shouldn't even be here. You're a consultant, not a police officer." Erin says. I squint my eyes slightly at them both and give them a look of disbelief.

"Then why did you agree on letting me help then?" I snap, pushing past them and walking into the room, ignoring them as they called after me. Im not being paid anyway, and I've been here loads of times with John and Sherlock- enough to know that Lestrade trusts me.

Joe's eyes flicker up at the sound of the door opening and shutting, then back down towards the decrepit table. I slowly walk towards him and take a seat on the chair opposite him.

"Uh, Hi." I begin. "Im the woman from earlier. Im not a police officer, or a psychiatrist. Im just some ordinary woman really. Which means i have no reason to lie to you."

He doesn't say anything, so I carry on.

"The people who were here earlier, Officer Erin and the others- they told you that the man who took you seven years ago was a bad man, that he hurt you, abused you. But I'm guessing they don't know the whole story, do they? I bet he also took care of you, kept a roof over your head, taught you to drive... Loved you."

He still doesn't speak. He continues to stare at the table serenly.

"My father was an ass, really. He took his anger out on me and my brother, nothing close to what you experienced, of course, but it seemed worth mentioning. For some reason, the more my father hurt me the more I felt gratitude that he was actually paying attention to me. He acted like this because my mother died when I was young. After that the only person I really loved was my brother, but a few years later when he was old enough he ran because he couldn't handle the way my father treated him, resulting my father to give me all the cruel attention. One day, after a particularly brutal lesson that left me in a bad way, a teacher at school asked me who was responsible. I said I'd fallen down the stairs. Funny, the things that we do for the people that we care about." I finish, trying to make a point to Joe. I didn't mean to make it about me, but I felt like it was necessary to say that. I looked towards Joe as he lifts his arm to itch the back of his neck, and I notice a deep scratch on his hand, "... Did he do that?

"No." He starts. I go quiet, waiting for him to continue. I was actually quite proud of myself that I got him to talk, even if he only had said one word. But he seemed rather eager to defend his capturer. "I was in my room the other night... and it was hot, I tried to open the window, but it was stuck and my hand went through the pane... And he took care of me." He whispers the last part indistinctly. "He put a bandage on it."

"Of course he did. He loves you."

"He does everything for me. He comes home every morning and brings me things like icecream and chocolates, doughnuts and takeaways. He doesn't need to, but he does. I never even asked-"

He was cut of by Lestrade walking into the room, and he suddenly Joe shut his mouth and went quiet again. I give Lestrade a look off annoyance and he gives me one back.

"No more questions."

"Why?"

"His parents, they're here."