Author's Note: I completely re-wrote the end of this chapter, so please take note if this even if you already read the old version. I realized there were a few flaws in planning this chapter so I tried to mend them best I could. Sorry for all of the confusion!

"When are you two going to actually stop staring and do something?"

John blinked and turned to his flatmate, who was staring at the teenager like she was from another species.

"Well, Sherlock, you were the one who brought a teenage girl home," John announced, "what exactly was your plan?"

Sherlock's stare trailed to him; he clearly had no clue what was going on. Sighing heavily, John gave in:

"Fine, I'll watch her. You go after Lestrade."

A grin spread across Sherlock's face and a hand clasped his shoulder.

"You're a good friend, John."

Before he could argue, Sherlock fled the flat, leaving him alone with a girl he barely knew. Crossing his arms, John admitted:

"He only says that when he wants something."

This earned him a small smile from the girl; he was finally able to relax a little.

"Want some tea?" He offered. "Or food or…something."

He ran a hand through his hair, desperately thinking of something that didn't sound so lame. He was shocked when the girl's eyes actually lit up.

"Food would be nice," she replied quietly.

Fifteen minutes later he managed a dinner made up of leftovers from the week. Kate ate quietly and quickly, as though someone were timing her.

"You can slow down, you know," he said, amused. "So, you knew Sherlock back when-"

He was homeless was interrupted by a text alert. He took out his mobile, and his heart leapt when he read the message.

Harriet's awake.

John drew in a sharp breath as he studied his mother's simple message. The lack of explanation told him there was more to the story- and it wasn't good.

"I've got to go," he breathed.

Kate didn't say anything as he got to his feet, but it was the noticing she stopped eating that caught his attention.

"It's my sister," he explained, "she's been in the hospital-"

"It's fine, I can hide here," she whispered.

He had never seen someone look more afraid. Being on her own must usually mean hiding, he realized. And knowing the kind of people she hid from gave her perfectly good reason to be afraid. Turning away, he sent his own text:

Harry's awake. Need to go to St. Bart's. – JW

Thirty seconds later and there was no reply. John groaned: Sherlock was ignoring him. Instead of badgering him with texts, John dialed his number.

"What?" Sherlock shot as soon as he answered.

"I'm not taking a sixteen year old girl to the A&E," John said. "It'll terrify her."

"She's sixteen, not six."

He held the phone to his forehead for a moment, trying to not scream in frustration.

"My sister just woke up from a drug-induced coma," John said. "I'm not going to show that to a sixteen year old girl I don't even know."

"And I'm not bringing a drug dealer's daughter to a crime scene at a drugs house!" Sherlock snapped. "I'm onto something, John, something big."

With that Sherlock hung up. John turned around, meeting Kate's eyes.

A half an hour later he was standing in front of Harry's hospital door. Through the glass, he could see his sister propped up in bed. She was staring out the window with vacant eyes, completely unaware of anything else.

"Are you okay?" John looked down at Kate, shocked to hear her concern.

"Yeah, fine," he lied. "Just stay out here, okay?"

The same look of darkness appeared in her eyes, just like back in the flat. As he looked around at all the nurses, visitors- strangers- walking by, he knew he couldn't ask that of her.

"Come inside," he sighed.

He opened the door for her and then stepped in the room himself. Harry turned toward him, and he immediately felt ill at the sight of her. Somehow he thought his sister being awake would mean she would look healthier, though as a doctor he knew that was stupid to think. Instead she still looked pale, almost green. Wires were connected to her chest and arms, including an IV. Her hair was course and frail; her arms limply lay in her arms.

"Hey," he whispered. He reminded himself to take a step closer to her; he couldn't scare her. "This is a friend of Sherlock's."

A half-smile crossed his sister's face, and at last he felt like he could breathe again.

"How do you feel?" He asked her.

He immediately began checking her vitals.

"Just numb," Harry replied. Her voice was far too hoarse.

"Mum?" He asked, noting the empty seats.

"Left," Harry whispered. He felt guilty as tears sparkled in her eyes. "She's ashamed."

"She's not."

John knew he was lying. Kate glanced toward him, interested, but she didn't ask as she settled into one of the plastic chairs.

"She should be," Harry rasped, "you should be."

"I'm not." He swallowed, fighting to keep his own emotions together.

This time, he wasn't lying. He didn't know why, and he knew it wasn't fair, considering how hard he was on Sherlock about drugs, but he wasn't ashamed.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. A cold, pale, hand fell on his arm. "You look…pale."

He swallowed; he had almost forgotten about the kidnapping. Now that she mentioned it the heaviness in his head returned and the wound etched into his ribcage stung.

"Just a cold," he lied. She let him sit on the edge of the bed next to her, but she flinched slightly when his hand rested on her knee. He immediately withdrew it, noticing the way her eyes drifted. "I'm more worried about you."

On cue, her eyes watered again.

"Harry…" his voice was strained; how could he ask his sister something like this? How was this happening? "If there's anything you need to tell me…I'm not asking you as a doctor, Harry, but your brother. If there's anything-"

She closed her eyes, and he had to look away.

He was crying.

He hadn't openly cried since…

She grasped his hand in hers; she was shaking.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she said, pleading with him so quietly he could hardly hear. "I feel like our lives are falling apart."

"Don't-" he warned. "Don't ever feel that way. I'm going to get you some help. We're going to work on this…I'm not going to leave you alone again."

Reaching down, he wrapped his arms around her, allowing her to cry into his shoulder. His own eyes were closed tightly, desperately fighting away tears.

"Don't ever feel like you can't come to me," he said, "no matter what, okay?"

He felt her nod against his shoulder, but a sickening feeling in his stomach told him this wasn't the end. As they broke apart, his mobile rang again.

It was Sherlock.

"Yeah?" He asked, wiping his arm across his face.

"John, you should come down to the precinct," Sherlock said. "We left the crime scene, and I've been talking with Lily St. Claire."

John glanced to Kate, who looked like she could overhear every word.

"I thought you said St. Claire doesn't have a wife," John said.

There was a pause, then:

"He did. Almost eleven years ago. They were married for a very short period of time before he left her, without warning. The public never even knew about it."

Mouth agape, John felt his heart stop.

"Explain to me what's going on, right now Sherlock."

His own heart began beating more rapidly. He looked to his sister, who was already drifting back to sleep, and to Kate, who looked left out. John had to ignore them both as he stepped outside the room and drew in a deep breath.

"This was around the same time he was rumored to have gotten into the drug world," Sherlock finished.

Sherlock stopped for a moment, drawing in a few deep breaths.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" He asked, remembering Sherlock's own trauma.

"That's not all," Sherlock said quietly. "John…I think we've stumbled into something monumental. Something that will get both of us killed if anyone finds out. Is Kate with you?"

Heart pounding, John glanced at the girl.

"Yeah," he whispered.

Something that will get both of us killed. He wanted nothing more than to pack up his sister, grab Sherlock, and get the hell out of London. He didn't want to go through this- not again.

"Someone's after me," Sherlock said. He actually sounded scared. So scared that it terrified him. "This is bigger than I thought. We need to regroup at Baker Street."

"Lestrade-"

"No, no police."

"Sherlock…is someone threatening you?"

There was a pause, and John prepared for the worst.

"No," Sherlock said; John breathed a sigh of relief, though his heart still pounded.
"There's something else. Mrs. St. Claire had no idea about her husband until she saw a man going down Swandam Lane who was the spitting image of him. When he turned around and saw her, he fled. She followed him into the building, through the corridor, until she found a room with blood on the windowsill. The windows were thrown open; whoever it was went down the fire escape. But that's not even the important part. John…the man she saw was limping and wearing a blue suit."

John held his breath and closed his eyes.

I was kidnapped by Neville St. Claire.

He had to remind himself to exhale. He was afraid he might hyperventilate.

"I need you to trust me on this, John," Sherlock pleaded. "I made a mistake once, a terrible one. It's coming back to haunt me, and now people are going after you. This is the one time when I don't mind having a brother who can bring the city to its knees at the snap of his fingers."

"I trust you, but Sherlock-"

"I'm going to have Mycroft put you and Kate somewhere safe until-"

"No!" He exclaimed so loudly a few passerby stopped. Sherlock stopped short on the other line. "No, Sherlock, you're not going through this alone. You're about to face something huge, something deadly. If we're going to expose it-"

"That's just it, John, we can't expose it."

John froze.

"You're kidding me, right?" He said.

"Do you want to die, John?" Sherlock asked him.

"That's not fair-"

"Meet me at Baker Street. We'll figure it out."

"Sherlock, my sister-"

"We'll figure it out."

With that Sherlock hung up. Suddenly the rushing feet and hurried voices of the hospital flooded back to him. Behind him, Harry was asleep in her bed while Kate looked on, eyes wide in horror. John leaned his forehead against the glass for a moment as he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"Kate?" He asked as he entered. "We need to go."

The announcement seemed to stir Harry from her rest.

"Sorry," he whispered as he crossed over to her. Once again he hugged her, and when they parted he realized just how exhausted she looked. And just how drained he was himself. "I need to go, but I'll be back soon, okay?"

She nodded.

"Rest," he instructed. "Get better. Then we'll go from there."

Even Kate offered his sister a small smile.

"I hope you feel better soon," she said in a small voice.

John remembered that she wasn't used to talk to strangers, and he couldn't help but to smile himself.

"Thank you," Harry replied, sincere.

He placed his arms around the girl as he led her back into the hallway. He agreed with Sherlock that Kate should be kept in a safe place. No matter what was going on, even he could begin to see she didn't deserve this.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, looking up at him fearfully.

He sighed. Whenever it got to the point that Sherlock was shutting him out, he knew there wasn't much he could do. All he could do now was answer honestly:

"I don't know."