"John! What on earth happened to you?" Mary looked in horror at her boyfriend.
He groaned and rubbed his face, making the mess worse. "Surgery today. It was a mess. And, of course, the mess ended up on me." He looked down at his coat, splattered red, and his hands, which were in the same state. "I should shower."
Mary hmphed. "You very well should! Stop faffing about and get cleaned up. I'll make us some dinner."
John leaned down for a kiss but she sidestepped him. "I'm not that bloody!" he groused as he slogged off to the shower. Mary's laughter simply followed him down the hall.
"Sherlock!" The scream was shrill with worry. Molly barely caught the tall man before he collapsed. "What happened? Oh my gosh, is that all your blood?"
"Suspect armed," Sherlock mumbled, eyelids fluttering. "Accomplice...wasn't expecting it."
"I'm calling Mycroft. You need care immediately." She spoke hurriedly into her mobile, taking in Sherlock's appearance. He seemed to have multiple stab wounds on his chest, staining his once nice shirt. She took off her jacket and pressed it to the wounds, hoping it would help. Molly gently touched his head and it came away covered in blood. She let out an expletive and prayed Mycroft would come. She daren't move him more, in case she made the injury worse. Where was John when Sherlock needed him? He'd never be so reckless with John along. But Molly knew that was a distant hope. Until then, she hoped Mycroft hurried up.