Martha shook as the paramedics hovered over Sherlock's body. The young policeman stood by her side with his hands on her arms to keep her from falling to the ground. This wasn't the worst that the boy had ever been but it was so out of nowhere. He'd looked so strong that morning. Usually he had many bad days before he collapsed. It worried her that it seemed so sudden. Even after such a soul satisfying day of karmic retribution, this is what Sherlock had to endure. It was never right. The poor boy always suffered.

He was pale, ashen, as the paramedic placed an oxygen mask over his face and raised his arm to take his blood pressure. A small crowd had gathered around them but she didn't take notice of them. All she did was watch the fluid motions of the young men as they examined her boy inch by inch while Mycroft spoke with such strength. All the while she just stood there, helpless. She was at the end of her rope. She could do no more. It was too much to bear. All she could do was watch.

"Do you want to sit?" the policeman asked.

She couldn't feel her legs. The fear had taken over her body and she was paralyzed.

"Ma'am?" he asked.

She gritted her teeth just to feel something besides the anxiety. "Let me stay."

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open as the men placed the heart monitor electrodes on his chest. The color slowly returned to his cheeks as they injected something into his arm. It wasn't a miracle but he was coming back. She let out a gasp of relief as he turned his head towards Mycroft and gave a hint of a smile.

"He's okay," she said quietly.

"Looks like it," the policeman said.

Martha clutched the end of her necklace and gripped it tight. The edges of the gold-plated leaf that hung on the chain dug into her palm. The tears came to her eyes as they slowly lifted the boy on a gurney. Mycroft looked over at her and the fear on his face faded away. He nodded reassuringly as he pulled himself up to a standing position.

She walked over to him without thinking. Something was pulling her to Mycroft and Sherlock even with her entire body floating in a state of heightened anxiety for her boys. He put out his arms and wrapped them around her.

"He's stable," he said.

She nodded and tried to calm herself. "Stable...that's good."

"But he had an extended period of irregular heartbeats. They were concerned about that. His oxygen level was low when they checked it."

"I see," she said. That was something she could handle. The reality of the moment was slowly falling on her and becoming something she could work with-this wasn't her first rodeo with Sherlock's heart. All she needed was information.

"Okay," she said. "Do you want me to drive to hospital?"

He shook his head. "Let me. You're still shaking."

She grabbed her trembling hand. "Just nerves. I'm fine."

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I've got it."

It was then that there was a commotion coming out of the courtroom. Two policemen came out first and then two more with Gregory in tow. He still had a smirk on his face as his eyes darted around the lobby as they pulled him forward.

Her body moved again without her brain's acknowledgement. Suddenly she was across the lobby and headed straight to Gregory. There was no plan. There was no preparation for what she was about to do but yet it felt like it exactly right.

"Hey!" she shouted.

All four policemen turned around and one put out his hand to push her away but yet she kept going. She barreled through the police and straight to Gregory.

"He almost died," she shouted. "You goddamn bastard…"

And then he smirked. "Oh well."

It all happened in an instant. She felt the impact of her hand against his face. The slap was so loud that it echoed through the lobby. Gregory lost his balance and crashed the shoulder of the policeman next to him.

Her entire mind went blank as she waited for the inevitable retribution from the police that stood in front of her. But when she came back to reality they were gone and Gregory simply staggered out of the building in pain.

Her hand ached but it felt so good.

That man couldn't be punished enough.

Mycroft came behind her with a hint of a smile on his face. "You ready?"

She clenched her first to preserve the crackling pain of the palm of her hand. "Absolutely."

John sat back in the chair as the ache of his wounds pounded in his ear. He should have insisted on getting stitches but he'd be out soon enough. There would be time for that later. No one would blame him for defending himself and when Gregory woke up then all would be revealed.

They'd kept him in the interrogation room for almost ten minutes alone. As the moments clicked on he grew more and more nervous. If this was just a courtesy then why were they taking so long? A part of him grew suspicious. There was something wrong. There was something they weren't telling him.

Just as his mind began to escape down the rabbit hole the door opened and a younger detective that he didn't recognize stepped inside. He went out of his way to avoid eye contact with John and sat down with a nervousness that seemed unwarranted for this kind of case.

"Dr. Watson," he said, "do you need anything?"

John shook his head. "I'm fine. What is going on?"

The young detective looked towards the mirror and pleaded with his eyes. When no one came to his aid he sighed and opened the file in front of him.

It was as he looked down at the papers that John suddenly recognized him. It was the detective from the cell when Sherlock collapsed. The poor man was still shaken and there was something holding him back from saying what he wanted to say.

"Can you tell me where you were at 5:15 tonight?"

He pointed to the blood that soaked his shirt. "I was attacked by Gregory Holmes. He had a knife. I disarmed him."

"And what happened after you disarmed him?"

John didn't remember. The whole attack was a blur. All he remembered was holding the knife and the impact of it in Gregory's body as the adrenaline took over his body. "He came towards me. He was trying to strangle me."

It was a lie. A goddamn lie. He felt sick telling it.

"And you stabbed him?"

John gulped back the bile that rose up his throat. "I had no other choice. He wanted to kill me."

The detective looked broken. "He didn't make it," he said quietly.

John's entire body grew bone cold. "What?"

"He coded in surgery. They couldn't bring him back."

"No," John said as he felt himself grow light-headed. "He can't be. He can't…"

"Witnesses said you weren't being attacked when you stabbed him."

John put his head in his hands. "No, you don't understand…"

"One witness said that you had the knife and he was on the ground-"

John mumbled into his hands. "He's a monster. He deser-" and then he stopped himself. Don't say anything stupid even if you believe it.

"-and you attacked him without any provocation."

John felt the terror of the moment rise through him. "But he attacked me first. He stabbed Mrs. Hudson. He's a killer. I was just defending myself."

The detective rose from his seat and grabbed the handcuffs that he had stored in his jacket pocket. "Dr. Watson, please stand up."

John's entire body fell slack as he tried to make sense of what was happening. "No. This isn't right. I was just trying to help… I was just…"

The detective put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly.

He choked back the tears. "It's not fair," he whispered.

"I know," the detective said. "Please, just stand up. Don't make me do it for you."

John wiped the errant tear that rolled down his cheek as he stood up. "Can I call someone?"

"Later," the detective said. "After we do all the paperwork."

John put his hands behind his back and waited for the click of the handcuffs.

"John Watson," the detective said, "I'm arresting you on the charge of the murder of Gregory Holmes."

The handcuffs closed around his wrists and John's mind fell to black as he was pushed out the door of the interrogation room.