When they arrived, Sherlock nearly got out of the cab before it stopped, leaving to John the detail to pay the driver. He went through the morgue entrance and found Molly in the usual lab.
"I need your help here Molly," he said urgently.
She looked up to him and when she noticed his burden, he saw alarm in her eyes.
"It's not a corpse!" he explained urgently. "It's a child. She needs a bath. Do you have a bathtub down here?"
"Sherlock!" John was running after him in the corridor. "What do you think you are doing here! She needs medical attention, you need to bring her upstairs."
"They don't have an A&E department here anymore, we would just bother them," Sherlock answered calmly. "And you will do as her 'medical attention'. So? Do you have a bathtub?"
Molly lead the way without question to an old infirmary on the highest floor with only one bed and a bathroom. Sherlock put the girl on the bed while Molly opened the tap of the bath and John turned on the heater.
"She needs to wake up before we put her in the tub. Molly, can you get an IV kit from downstairs, and some rehydration serum?" John asked, before he indicated the concentration he needed. He started rubbing down the girl gently, trying to wake her up. "We should have gotten to an A&E. I'm not a specialist, Sherlock."
"You will do fine," Sherlock reassured him.
He looked through various drawers and finally found a pair of scissors and a towel. They cut her clothes instead of trying to remove them and then, they rolled her in the towel and in the coat again.
Both men had noticed the bruises were even worse on her torso and legs. John was vibrating out of outrage. Anger was burning a hole in Sherlock's insides, he couldn't say a word. Some part of his mind, the rational one, was finding quite surprising that he felt so concerned about that unknown child.
Molly came back exactly at the same time Latia woke up. She immediately panicked, but Sherlock's voice came back and upon hearing his voice, she calmed down and listened.
"These are friends, Latia," he said. "John is a doctor, he'll take good care of you. And Molly will help us. Say hello, Molly," he ordered.
Perplexed, Molly obeyed, waving timidly at the girl.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Don't bother waving, Molly. She's blind."
"What?" John waved his hand in front of Latia's eyes. She didn't blink and went on staring straight in front of her.
Ignoring the confused look on Molly's face, Sherlock took the IV kit from her hands and gave it to John. He then retreated to the back of the room, letting his friend take the lead. John was talking gently, reassuring the little girl and explaining to her what he was going to do. She was listening intently. Molly put down the rest of the supplies she had collected, some extra linen and a small hospital gown, and she approached the bed and helped John put the IV in. She gasped when they unrolled her from the coat and she saw the bruises.
Sherlock let them carry her in the bathtub. He watched from afar as Molly held her head over the water while John washed her gently. He recognised the expert hand of a father used to bathe his new-born daughter. Where she was clean, Sherlock could see her skin, so white it was nearly translucent. No sun for years, part of his mind deduced.
"Her hair is too tangled," Molly said. "We'll never be able to comb it."
Sherlock put the scissors beside the bathtub. "Cut it then," he said. "I'll be in the lab, come to me when you're done." And he left without another word.
John and Molly were left staring at each other. They didn't talk, though John could feel Molly's curiosity. The little girl was totally passive in their hands and let them wash her from head to toes. After a first bath, they removed her from the water and sat her on the bed rolled in a towel. John gave the scissors to Molly with a pointed look.
"That's such a shame," she sighed, weighting the black mass of hair the girl had on her head. "They could be so beautiful."
"They will grow back," mumbled John. He was examining closely each wound, disinfecting them and checking for infection.
"I know..."
And she began cutting the dreadlocks, one by one. Latia didn't even flinch.
John was keeping an eye on the girl's face. He wondered how she could be so calm after seeing her in that cave, wrestling like a frightened kitten with Sherlock. Now that he had time to think about it, he was surprised by the way his friend had behaved with her, so protective, so caring. Sherlock usually didn't care about strangers. And he couldn't stand children. He would let John or the police look after the children if they happened to meet some during a case. And yet, there she was, the little girl who seemed to have touched some sensitive nerve in the cold and stoical man.
Molly cut his train of thoughts. "She'll need a true hairdresser, I'm quite bad at that," she said.
John looked up from the girl's feet, he was checking for injuries. Her hair was spiked oddly, the strands uneven. Latia lifted her hand and passed it through her short hair, feeling their length. And to John's bewilderment, she smiled. Molly hadn't seen the smile, she was staring at the girl's nails, horrified.
"I'll be right back!" she said before storming out of the room. She came back with her own manicure kit.
"What's Sherlock doing?" John asked her while she began the delicate task to cut the girl's nails.
"I'm not sure, I think he was in his mind palace, he didn't notice me. But my manicure kit was in evidence on the table, he searched my purse..."
John smiled at this obvious disregard for her privacy. This was the Sherlock he knew.
Once they were done, they gave her another quick bath, washing her hair properly this time. They dressed her in the hospital gown and put her to bed.
John left Latia with Molly while he went looking for Sherlock. He found him in the lab, sitting on one of the stools, lost in his thoughts. His coat was in a plastic bag near the door. He couldn't suppress a smile seeing that, his friend was always so fussy about his coat.
"Sherlock?"
The man didn't stir.
"Sherlock!" John repeated louder.
"Hmm?"
"She's clean, if you're interested to know."
Sherlock opened his eyes. "Good."
"I didn't find any badly infected wound, nothing serious, but we need to take her to some specialized ward now. She needs a specific diet to recover."
To John's surprise, Sherlock got up from his seat and gestured to the door. "I'll come with you."
"Really?"
Sherlock tilted his head to the side, surprised. "Of course, I don't want her out of my sight too long. She's the most important piece of that wonderful puzzle we found this morning."
John sighed. "I should have known you had an ulterior motive..."
"What are you talking about, John?" Sherlock said casually, picking up his coat before closing the door of the lab behind him. "I found her, I feel responsible."
John scoffed. "You don't feel responsible for anyone, Sherlock. You barely feel responsible for your own actions."
Annoyed, Sherlock opened his mouth to object but closed it without retaliating. John noticed it was the second time this day that his friend let an argument down without having the last word. This was unheard of. It worried him.
"Let me give a few phone calls," said John. "I'll have an ambulance really as soon as possible."
Sherlock ignored him and left him, heading for the infirmary where the girls were. John called the Children's hospital. Then he went to the St Barts ambulance station to ask for a vehicle. He ended up calling his wife, explaining the matter to her, while waiting for an available car.
When the car was ready, he sent a message to Sherlock and waited. They appeared a few minutes later, the girl in Sherlock's arms, cradled in a blanket, and Molly is holding his coat in its plastic bag.
Sherlock jumped into the ambulance and put the girl on the cot. He then tried to close the door of the vehicle.
"Wait! What are you doing?" John asked, stopping his move. "I'm coming too."
"No need. Please, drop my coat at the dry cleaner's." And he slammed the door in his face.
John was fuming while watching the ambulance turn around the corner.
"I'll do it if you want," said Molly behind him.
"Err, what?" John asked, confused.
She lifted the bag with the coat.
"Oh, yes, thank you, yes, that'd be lovely," he answered distracted. And he left her, looking for a cab.
