John sat in his chair not believing what he was hearing, but Sherlock looked Jane over again and searched for any signs of lying.
She wasn't.
Sherlock was unsure on what he should do. For the moment he just stared at her bruised face thinking. Why had she come here? Was this all a trick? At that thought he immediately sprang up out of his seat and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.
"What are you doing here?!" He screamed in her face. Jane recoiled in fear and instinct made her protect her face in her terror of a strike. "Is this all a trick? Are your helping your father, is that's what's going on?!" John leaned forward in his chair so as to stop him, but Sherlock heard him turned around and pushed him violently back down, then returned his angry gaze at Jane. She was scared; she still protected her face with her hands. "What do you want?" Sherlock stated, spit flying from his mouth.
Slowly she moved her hands away from her face to look at them both. Tears started to form in her eyes, but she never cried. She had been trained never to cry or complain.
"Please, what I am about to say is true, you must listen." Jane said softly, looking at Sherlock with her glazed eyes.
"Why should we listen, your father has killed people. How do we know you haven't helped him?" Sherlock said, discussed. Jane was about to respond, but John had taken the side of the girl.
"Sherlock, just sit down and let's listen." John said irritably and grabbing onto Sherlock's sleeve to pull him down into a chair. Sherlock reluctantly sat. John continued the speaking from then on for a while. "What is it? And do keep in mind that I do have a gun, and if you try anything, I will shoot you." He said seriously.
"You may not be the one that shoots me." Jane stated. Sherlock placed his fingertips together and rested his hands on his chest underneath his chin. He would try to keep quiet, but only because John wanted it. And luck he did, because the words that came out of Jane's mouth next flew out so fast that Sherlock only barley understood.
"My father is Jim Moriarty; I have decided he has gone too far. I have never helped him in any of his murders ever, and I believe I should end them before he continues. He has something planed, something bigger than anything he has ever done before, a mass murder. Hundreds of people are going to die if you don't stop him." At this point Sherlock and John were being reeled in like fish on a hook. John was on the edge of his seat listening intently. Sherlock showed less signs of interest, but he was indeed, sinking in all this information. Whether it was real of fake though, he didn't know.
"I've come to tell you everything, I'm sick of being abused and forced to be silent and locked away. He needs to be stopped. He can't continue with what he has planned, the set date of the mass murder is-" there was a smashing of glass and a zipping sound.
John knew that sound all too well. Bullets. He threw himself on to the floor and covered his head and neck with his hands. Bullets showered through the windows and were going in all directions. He hoped Sherlock had dived for the ground as well and was not hurt because he didn't dare look up to see.
Sherlock had indeed dived down to the floor. He covered his face with his arms and tried to look out the window as best as he could. All he could see was glass and wood flying. In worry of something hitting his eyes, he covered them back up. The bullets continued for several seconds after they had taken cover. When they finally stopped, they waited for the dust to clear up. John chanced a glance over at Sherlock. Sherlock had done the same and they looked at each other. Each seeing that the other was okay, they looked over at Jane. Jane had been sitting in the direct line of fire. She lay there on the ground motionless, her blood starting to cover the floor.
John started to crawl over to her. Sherlock reached out and grabbed at his leg. He kicked him away. He was a doctor after all, and she needed his help, even if Sherlock didn't want him to. Sherlock copied John and crawled to Jane. The first thing John did was check for a pulse. She had one, but it was faint.
"John." Sherlock croaked, from the dust.
"I don't care what you have to say about her Sherlock. I'm a doctor, and by bloody hell I'm going to help her."
"No, listen to me, she is indeed Moriartys daughter. They were trying to kill her, not us. She was really going to betray her father. She is the only one that possesses the information that can stop the mass murder. Save her." Sherlock said, he then jumped up and ran to the door. "Mrs. Hudson!" He yelled, waving away smoke and dust.
"What was that? Was that gun shots?" Mrs. Hudson asked worried, her voice quivering.
"Everything is fine, bring up cloth, bandages, alcohol, everything!"
"Sherlock! She needs a hospital! Not home care, she's been shot God knows how many times!" John said very worried. He took a blanket from the couch and tore it into small individual pieces which he placed over her wounds. Sherlock rushed over to the kitchen and shouted to John to explain.
"She can't leave the flat. They will be waiting out there for her. We need to care for her, and always watch her." Sherlock was grabbing vials out of the cupboards and looking at the labels. Some he tossed aside, while others he took with him. John was putting pressure on as many wounds as he could. She was indeed shot up very bad. From what he could tell, she had been shot four times. One in her right and left shoulder, her stomach, and left thigh. He had the pressure on her stomach and thigh. Those were the places where he thought she may bleed the most. She began to move.
"Don't move, stop, you'll just hurt yourself further." John said, trying to be calm. Jane coughed, and blood trickled out of her mouth and down the corner of her lip. Sherlock came out from the kitchen with all the vials in his arms and joined John.
"Mrs. Hudson! We need those bandages now!" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs. John watched as Sherlock opened up vile after vile, gently lifted her head up, and tipped the liquids into her mouth.
"What is that?" John asked, curious and slightly concerned. "What are you giving her?"
"Just relax; it's to help her with the pain, and this one." He held a vile up in front of himself. "This is a sedative." He tipped the last vile in her mouth and held her head so she could swallow. She tried to speak to them. She spoke in short, fast gasps. They could tell she was in a significant amount of pain.
"It – it's going to happen o – on September twenty -" She began to cough violently, and more blood spilled out of her mouth.
"That's not a good sign Sherlock," John said, handing him two other pieces of blanket. "Hold these on her shoulders, and put pressure, don't be afraid of hurting her." Sherlock put pressure on her shoulders. Perhaps even a little too much, Jane whimpered in pain. "The blood coming from her mouth means the bullet has severed something in her stomach. She needs surgery Sherlock." They shared worried stares. Mrs. Hudson came in with the items Sherlock had requested. When she saw Jane on the ground she gave a shocked gasp.
"Oh my word!" She said, looking around the ruined room, then at everyone on the floor. "I'll phone for an ambulance!" Mrs. Hudson made her way to run out of the room to find a phone, but Sherlock shouted for her.
"No! We don't need one, bring us the bandages please!" Sherlock shouted angrily.
"She's going to die if she doesn't get the surgery Sherlock." John and Sherlock looked at each other, sweat glistening on each of their brows.
"You need to do it John. You have to do it here."