Deducing Tragedy Part One: See No Evil

John sat in his chair typing away while Sherlock sat in the kitchen working on an experiment. Hanna sat across from the blond man, her fingers carefully running over the textured pages of her favorite book. “What are you working on,” she asked, setting her book on the table.

“I'm writing the case of Jack Jr.” John said glancing up at her. “What little we have to go on at least.”

She frowned, “why?”

John shrugged, “it’s been a few months since anything new has happened concerning him… I just want people to know that this monster is still out there, somewhere.”

“What was that?” Sherlock asked suddenly, looking up from his microscope to lock eyes with his best friend. “What did you say?”

“I'm writing the case of Jack Jr.-“

“Not that the other thing,” Sherlock said walking around to face John. “You said that you just want….”

“….people to know that this monster is still out there,” John frowned at his friend who had a look of pure astonishment painted across his face. “Sherlock-“ he started to question but was cut off by the sound of the piano as Hanna sat there playing a soft, familiar melody.

Sherlock turned to look at the blind girl playing so beautifully, “the Monster,” he said just loud enough that John heard him and Hanna stopped playing.

“The monster?” John asked looking between the two, neither answered him. Sherlock walked forward, his hands behind his back as he watched the girl at the piano.

“Well?”

“Jack Jr….” she trailed off as her head turned up to stare blankly out the window. “And… the Monster-“

“Are the same person,” Sherlock said calmly, his body stiff as he glanced from Hanna to John. “You’ve known all along.”

She hesitated, “…yes.” Sherlock straitened his back and turned away from her. He said nothing as he got his coat and walked out the door, leaving John alone with Hanna who was staring blankly ahead of her. He tried to talk to her, get her to explain what just happened but she wouldn’t. She just sat there with her fingers on the keys like she was preparing to play but couldn’t decide on a song. After an hour of silence she stood up and walked into her room. She walked past John and Molly, who John had called when it became apparent that Hanna wouldn’t talk to him.

“I’ve never seen her like this,” John said when the door closed. “And Sherlock… he acted like he was calm, like this was any other deduction but…” He shook his head and sighed.

Molly was still staring at the door her sister had just disappeared through as she said, “I don’t know about Sherlock, but I’ve only seen Hanna like this once before.”

“When?”

“Seven years ago,” Molly said tearing her eyes away from the door to look at John. “It was five months after her nineteenth birthday. She’d just moved into a new flat and I later found out that she was living with her boyfriend. But she came over to my house that day and… she was just like this, wouldn’t talk, staring at a wall for… hours. I tried to ask her what was wrong but it was like talking to wall and then when she left I saw it.”

“Saw what?” John almost growled as he sensed where this was going.

“Her sleeve slipped up her arm and she was… covered in bruises,” she hissed out. “I didn’t know what had happened, if someone did it to her or if she had fallen down the stairs or… anything. But I knew something was terribly wrong.

“Hanna is strong, John,” Molly said shaking her head. “For her to break like this is not normal.”
John sighed looking back at the door, “a woman who’s been beaten.”

“No,” Molly said and he raised an eyebrow. “Not beaten… a woman with a broken heart.”

~

John found Sherlock in Bart’s morgue, eyes glued to a microscope. John said nothing as he stepped into the room and waited near the end of the counter. When Sherlock didn’t look up John began to talk.

“You’ve been away from the flat for two days now,” he said, waiting for a response from his friend who only turned to page through one of many files in a pile behind him. “Hanna hasn’t said a word to anyone for two days. She even forgot to feed her cats this morning.” Sherlock reached for another file. “You could pretend to be concerned with our flat mate.”

“What good would that do?” he asked peering up from the pages at John.

“I don’t know,” John sighed. “Maybe help you through whatever rift that’s been torn between you and her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sherlock said while reaching for yet another file, but John grabbed his hand to stop him.

“Sherlock,” he said with a serious look. “Do not lie to me. Whatever the two of you were talking about the other day… it has caused the two of you a great deal of pain.”

“You’re delusional,” Sherlock said ripping his hand away from his friend as he spun around to look at the microscope again.

“No Sherlock, I'm not,” John said as he ripped the power cord from the wall, forcing Sherlock to face him. “You are. Now tell me what is going on.”

“Well if you really must know, Hanna’s blindness was no accident,” Sherlock began.

“Yes I know,” John said crossing his arms over his chest. “Her brother told me that her ex did it.”

“oh good, so you’re caught up,” Sherlock said reaching for the cord but John moved it out of his reach. He waved for him to continue. Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh, “The man who blinded her abused Hanna in their three year relationship. She became so terrified of him that she would only refer to him as The Monster. After he disappeared she bought three cats to protect her because he was allergic to them and that protected her for a while but recently she came into contact with him again, before she brought her cats to the flat. Meanwhile Lestrade and I struggled to find the man known as Jack JR. a man who killed girls between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two, with blond hair and blue eyes, -who were party girls, social butterflies. Sound familiar at all?”

“Are you saying that the women he killed were all-“

“They were all representations of Hanna Hooper!” Sherlock growled as he picked up a pile of photos and slammed them down on the table so that they spread out for John to see. On top sat a picture of Hanna but beyond her was a sea of girls with similar features.

“But why are you so mad Sherlock?” John frowned, turning to his friend.

“Because she knew the answer John!” Sherlock growled. “She knew this man’s name and refused to tell me- or Lestrade! She chose to protect him John... for all we know she aided in killing these girls.”

John shook his head in disbelief, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“We KNOW Hanna, Sherlock. We’ve talked to her-“

“For all we know everything she’s told us was a!” Sherlock shouted. “We can’t take anything she says as truth anymore!”

John shook his head again, this time in defiance. “No Sherlock, she didn’t lie to us-“
“She didn’t tell us the truth.”

“She was scared!” John defended the girl. “You said so yourself, she is so afraid of this guy that she won’t even say his NAME. And if she did tell someone, who would believe her? A dead man is the one killing these girls? Come on-“

“What was that?” Sherlock demanded spinning around. “What did you say?”

“He’s dead Sherlock,” John explained. “Or is supposed to be… he was hit by a bus for God’s sake”

“A bus?” Sherlock questioned his friend, “Are you sure?”

“That’s what Mark told me,” John sighed. “And he was damn positive that the man was dead.” Sherlock sat down. “Do you see yet Sherlock? While Hanna is not sin free in this mess by any means, she was afraid and fear is a powerful motivator.” Sherlock was silent before he ran his long fingers over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

John chuckled softly, “You know… I haven’t seen you this emotional over something since… well, since Irene.” Sherlock said nothing. “You don’t…. you don’t care for Hanna, by any chance?”

“What? No! Of course not” Sherlock shook his head and rolled his eyes while turning back to the files.

“Good because I was going to ask her out for drinks tomorrow, maybe a movie depending how things go,” John said. “If things go well enough I may have to ask you to leave the apartment for an hour-“ He was cut off by Sherlock grabbing hold of his shirt collar and pinning him against the wall.

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Sherlock growled. “Hanna-“ he stopped suddenly seeing Johns knowing grin. “Oh, I see.” He let go of the other man. “You tricked me.”

“It was surprisingly easy,” John said straightening his shirt out. “You’re emotions clouded your normally clear mind… why is that Sherlock?” Sherlock turned away and ran a stressed hand through his dark curls. “Could it be you care for her? Love her even?”

“Love is a chemical defect found on the losing side.”

“So you’ve lost then.” John shrugged. “Lost your war on emotions to one little blind girl-“

“Don’t say it like that,” He said glancing over his shoulder. “Like being blind is what defines her- she is more than that”

“Says the man who remembers my ex’s as ‘the doctor’, ‘the one with the spots’, ‘the one with the nose’, or ‘the boring teacher’,” John pointed out. “I’ve lived with you long enough to know that if you didn’t care about her, like you claim, she would be ‘the little blind girl’.”