"Illa revixit. Lift off in 10.

-MH"

"Your phone went off." John called out his friend who was in one of his moods. He was bored and pouting and wanting something to do, but all together didn't want to leave the flat to just waste time. It was a mood that John wasn't happy with. He'd been looking for cases all day to get the brooding Sherlock off of the couch.

Sherlock made a grumbling noise that sounded like "who is it?" But it was hard to tell when his head was buried in a pillow. With a sigh John got up and went to the couch and picked up Sherlock's phone which was within reaching distance of the man. He'd been like this for a few days, John was just proud of himself that he'd been able to get the man dressed today and somewhat presentable.

John picked up the phone. "It's from Mycroft." John said before swiping open the phone. Sherlock made another unintelligible grumbling noise that John couldn't make out but he didn't sound pleased about his the sender. John cleared his throat and read the text to himself. "Sherlock." When the taller man made no indication that he had heard John he smacked him on the shoulder. "Sherlock, this seems really important." Besides an angry grunt at being hit by a pillow Sherlock made no other movements. "Just listen then!"

As John stumbled over the Latin words Sherlock was up and leaping off the couch. He threw on his coat and scarf in record time and threw John's to him along with his fire arm before the poor man could even finish reading the text. "What's this all about?" The man asked as Sherlock was bounding down the stairs. The only thing John could do was try and keep up.

Sherlock was in the taxi giving the address as John slid in barely making it in time before the cabbie floored it. The extra that Sherlock gave him could have been the reason why the man was breaking the speed limits and rolling through stop signs.

"Take the left up here." Sherlock leaned forward pointing out the small street.

"It's a one way." The cabbie objected.

"Get us there in time, and I'll double it." Sherlock promised. Without a second thought the man jerked the wheel to the left. They were only on the abandon one way street for a second before it opened to take a turn onto a main two way street. The short cut was risky but in the end it saved them the ten minutes it would have taken to go around and it left only one angry cyclist.

They came to a screeching halt with only seconds to spare. Sherlock threw the money into the front seat before jumping out of the door with John in tow. "Will you tell me what's going on?" John demanded as they got out of the car and he was no longer worried about his life.

"We're going to save someone." Sherlock said dodging the real answer.

"Okay." John had to run faster to match Sherlock's impatient pace. "Who is it?"

"Someone of great importance." Before John could ask anything further they were at the helipad that was occupied by three men, dressed in combat ready black uniforms, and Mycroft. Mycroft was giving the men detailed instructions and death treats if the men messed up.

"Good you made it, and you brought the doctor, just as I knew you would. Let's go." With that the men all boarded the large helicopter. John wanted to demand to know what was going on, but the tension in the chopper made the large vehicle seem almost claustrophobic. The ride to wherever their destination was seemed to take forever.

Sherlock's mind was racing as it always did, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out the mystery. Where had she been? How had she survived? Where was she now? "How much longer?" Sherlock asked, trying his best to sound removed from the situation.

"We'll start our decent in approximately fifteen minutes." Mycroft answered in a somewhat gruff voice. It wasn't his normal proper voice, it didn't sound detached, he sounded like he was trying not to be emotional. This caught both of them by surprise but only John showed it. Both the Holmes brothers had their faces planted on the window looking out either side of the helicopter.

Once they landed both men threw their doors open and leapt out towards a small town in the middle of the desert. "There's a small building that's being used as a hospital, reports say they have her there." Mycroft said as they ran with the armored men.

"If she's at a hospital, why all the fire power?"

"The last time we came without it we, lost some good men." One of the men answered John seeing as the Holmes boys seemed to be silent about the whole thing. With that in mind John pulled out the handgun from the back of his jeans, checking it before removing the safety from the weapon. They followed Mycroft and the men as they ran to the center of the town. John couldn't help but compare the desert area to his time in the service, he just prayed there would be less blood shed this time.

As they burst through the door to the run down "hospital" Mycroft ran up to the man in the front. "You have a girl here. Dark hair, blue eyes, light skin, late twenties, where is she?" Mycroft demanded in a langue which sounded to John like Farsi, while the other men had their guns drawn covering their group. The man behind table stumbled through an answer before pointing out the door.

"He says she was unconscious for a while and once she woke she ran." He reported back to the men who weren't multi-lingual. "She couldn't have gotten far though, according to the doctor, she was malnourished, dehydrated, beaten half to death, and seeming to be addicted to some kind of narcotic." John's eyes became large as Sherlock closed his eyes tightly looking away from his older brother.

"We have to find her now!" Sherlock insisted as he headed out the door with John following closely behind him. "She's hurt, tired, and scared. She's going to be looking for shelter away from the town yet still close enough to get the necessary resources." Sherlock listed quickly.

"Right." It was all John could answer as he jogged to keep up with Sherlock's long strides. Sherlock noticed a ladder leaning against a taller building and went to scaling it. He took his time as he looked back and forth scanning the area. The other men had already gone without them, doing their own search.

"There!" Sherlock pointed out so suddenly, that it scared John. He rushed down the building jumping down the last few steps on the ladder. "Clever girl!" Sherlock gave a small smile as took off running to the eastern side of the town. Before the end of the village Sherlock came to a halt at a house that looked even more dilapidated than the ones surrounding them.

"Killian!" Sherlock called out as he burst through the door, but silence was the only thing that greeted them. "Come on, Killian. I know your here, try to make a noise for me." Only the wind blowing through the house could be heard. Then a small clank of tin hitting the ground softly seemed to roar like cannon fire throughout the room.

"Killian!" Sherlock rushed to the corner of the room that had an old mattress leaning on its side. Sherlock threw it across the room and looked down at the young woman that had been hiding behind it. "Kili, are you okay?" All the woman could do in response was let out a small whimper. Sherlock took the trembling body into his arms and kissed the woman on the forehead which was covered in dirt, dried blood, and a bruise that covered most of the left side of her face. He let his hand slide over the top of her mud encrusted hair, while motioning for John with the other hand.

"Sherlock?" The girl sobbed with a parched throat seemingly oblivious to John's fingers on her throat taking her pulse.

"It's me, Kili. I've got you." The woman let out a few sniffles but seemed too tired to actually cry before she rested her head in his arms and slipped into unconsciousness. Sherlock looked down at the fragile woman tucked into his side. John's fingers moved over the girl checking for broken bones.

"Feels like she's got a fractured arm, and at least two broken ribs. Really, I don't know how she was able to get out of bed let alone across the village." Sherlock didn't answer he just kept looking down at the woman in his arms.

"Sherlock?" John asked breaking his friend out of his stare.

"Inform Mycroft that I've located her and to meet at the rendezvous point stat!" The transformation back to stoic Sherlock was so sudden it took him a moment to realize that he did in fact have the radio and that he needed to notify the others.

Sherlock was gentle with the woman as he picked her up and walked briskly to the helicopter that would take them out of this hell. "Keep a sharp eye out, John." Sherlock said without taking his eyes off the woman. He could feel John's questioning gaze upon him, and he knew that they weren't out of the woods yet. John nodded and kept his gun out continuing to sweep the area.

Mycroft was already waiting in the air craft to be flown out of the small village. As Sherlock approached the helicopter one of the men inside motioned to give the woman to him making, Sherlock freeze. He'd waited so long to have her in his arms again, did he dare let her out of his reach; even for a second?

"He's got her, Sherlock." Mycroft promised sharply. With a stiff nod Sherlock reluctantly put the woman in his arms. Because of her light frame the man was easily able to lift her up and gently ease her into the medical sked stretcher and strapped her in. The hard, cold helicopter floor seemed to wake the woman.

"Mycroft?" The girl choked out when he came into view.

"Hello, Killian." The man nodded down at her as he kneeled over her body.

"You got my signal." She whispered.

"I did." He said softy.

"I knew you both would come." Mycroft stroked the girl's cheek.

"Every time." Mycroft answered swallowing the lump in his throat. The girl gave a shiver which prompted Sherlock to kneel on the woman's other side and lay his coat over her.

"You quit." She was too quiet for the men to hear over the roar of the blades, but they were easily able to read her lips. Sherlock nodded his head but before he could say anything else Mycroft spoke in his 'scary no questioning voice'.

"Enough deducting, Killian." The small smile that he was fighting took away from the terrifying nature that the command would normally have. "Go to sleep." He ordered as he had a million times before any of this chaos had started.

"I need everyone strapped in, so we can start our return flight." The pilot commanded and both Mycroft and Sherlock reluctantly took their seats as they watched Killian fight the sleep she so desperately needed.

They were almost back to Mycroft's base, and John couldn't hold back the question any longer. Since this woman had been found he'd notice a change in Sherlock. He was desperate to get the girl to safety, get her healthy, but he was so relieved to have her back. It was as if years of tension had evaporated from the man.

"Sherlock?" The man made a small grunting noise but never took his eyes off the woman. "Who is she?" A smile tugged at the corner of the man's lips as he finally tore his eyes away from the woman who lay in front of him.

"That, John, is Elizabeth Killian Marie Holmes." He answered.

"Holmes?" John questioned almost startled.

"My little sister." Both Sherlock and Mycroft said with voices that were trying to sound distant but you could easily hear the relief and fear. Their little sister had come back from the grave, and while there was an enormous burden that seemed to be lifted from them, they also were afraid of the unknown path they were going to have to go down.