Sally watched Sherlock and John as they left the crime scene, a leaden weight in the pit of her stomach. There was a loud roaring in her ears so she barely heard Lestrade's rebuke. She steadfastly avoided the eyes of the other Yarders and made her way to the room where the toddler lay. Looking down at the little girl's body, she suddenly saw so much more than she had before.

Karen Amelia Jones. That's what he had said her name was. Sally hadn't even known that much. The child had only been "The Victim" or "The Jones Girl". She gave a shudder. All of the things that Sherlock had deduced about Karen would forever haunt her memory. Sally could picture her in her mother's arms, the beloved stuffed elephant clutched in Karen's hand.

Then there was the look on Sherlock's face when he had rattled off his deductions. That was another image that she would never forget. Against all previous evidence to the contrary, the man obviously cared. Sally considered for a moment. She knew that she had become inured to the cruelties that were perpetuated on a daily basis. Abruptly she realized, perhaps Sherlock even cared more than she did. After all, she was the one callously attacking another human being instead of concentrating on the case and trying to bring closure to the grieving parents. Granted, Sally had barely considered Sherlock to be human before tonight, still…

As she considered her behaviour, Sally had to wonder just who was the freak?