The title is a in reference to the quote 'When the sun has set, no candle can replace it' by George R.R Martin ... who needs to hurry the everloving fuck up and finish his books! *clears throat and calms down'

XXXX

After he'd carried Artemis bloody and unconscious out to an ambulance, John had insisted upon checking on Mycroft's pinky finger which had been broken several hours before. The entire time Sherlock had complained, so after they'd all made it to the hospital and a doctor had looked them over Mycroft had given clear orders to let his little brother and Watson return to Baker Street essentially to get them out of the way for a while. Of course he'd gotten a covert security unit to watch over them, Missus Hudson and Rosie just to be safe. He didn't foresee Hades going on a revenge mission – that really wasn't how they operated – but Mycroft also didn't want to completely rule it out just in case.

Meanwhile Mycroft had remained at the hospital in a large, bland, waiting room sat on possibly the worst chair he'd ever sat it still splattered in both fake and Artemis' blood. However, he'd wiped much of it from his face and hands thanks to Lestrade finding a box of keenex from seemingly nowhere; the policeman knew his friends OCD must have been screaming up a storm. The British Government hadn't thanked his friend, just continued to stare blankly down at the floor while Artemis remained in surgery; truth be told, Greg wasn't even sure Myc knew he was there.

Mycroft walked slowly along the gas lamp lit streets of his mind city, straight down the middle fully aware no cars ever came despite there being several parked, all of which looked like they'd have been happily at home in the thirties or forties. It was night as always and the gas laps provided just enough white glow to see by as he made his way towards a place he knew well, a perfect copy of his own home. As soon as he stepped inside the color flooded back leaving him stood at the bottom of his stairs, he didn't speak, didn't straighten his bloody suit, just slowly walked upwards and down the hall to his bedroom. There were several more floors than inside his actual house but soon he made his way to the right room without a problem. As he stepped closer the air grew colder, icy even, then he heard a crunch and paused a moment, blue eyes were cast downwards to see a crumpled scattering of snow which had started to emerge from underneath his bedroom door. Mycroft took a calming breath and reached for the chilled door handle then stepped inside to find himself in the cabin again, same sound of a blizzard outside the window, same harshness to the air, same horrendous seating options. He smiled weakly when he spotted the elder Artemis sat on the couch waiting for him and instantly noticed the fact she now had the handcuffs dangling loosely from her wrist whereas before it had been the younger one; speaking of the younger one.

"Where is the other Artemis?" He asked as he closed the door behind himself leaving only the cabin.

The fake Artemis didn't miss a beat. "You've made some changes since you last came here. You read my file so the younger one was disturbing you." She held up her arm to show off her new jewelry. "You joined us together, an approximate amalgamation, or did you not notice?"

Mycroft sat down beside her, well, fell really but he didn't care, didn't have the energy to. He let his head tip so far backwards that it touched the cabin wall and forced his Adam's apple to become far more apparent.

"The last few days have been somewhat hectic, I must have deleted it." He replied in a very out of character tone, one almost akin to defeat.

The fake Artemis looked at him with those dazzling green eyes of hers. "I thought it was just Sherlock who did that."

"Usually it is, that's why I have a notebook, write down the things I've deleted from my memory or didn't put in to begin with."

Why was he telling her this? None of it was important and she was a construct of his mind so she already knew it. Avoidance, that's what it was, pure and simple avoidance.

"You're eschewing the subject, British, I'm in your head remember."

The elder man sighed and straightened up again, he couldn't ever hide anything from Artemis, mental copy or not. Still, he didn't want to think about her on that table with surgeons poking around inside her throat; not just yet.

"Say something nice to me, it's been a horrible day."

"No." She responded simply without any hint to emotion whatsoever.

Mycroft furrowed his brow as he looked at her properly. "No?"

"No." Artemis repeated. "Because I'm not the real Artemis and so you'll not take it as a complement since your brain came up with it. Besides, you're not the sort of man who needs bolstering."

She had him there so Mycroft didn't try to argue, he knew better than to argue with Artemis, even in his head he'd lose the fight. They both knew why he was really there.

"I can't seem to stop almost killing you, can I?" He said sorrowfully.

For a long time Mycroft just sat there staring at the uneven wooden floor as he remembered that since they'd met he'd hurt her far more than she'd ever hurt him. Everything he'd done and she'd never harmed him save for a lungful of snow and a broken pinky finger.

"I've shot you twice, I've set you on fire. You've taken bullets for me and now look at you, you're lying in an operating room with most of your blood on my suit rather than in your veins."

The auburn-haired man cast his blue eyes down at himself, he truly was covered in blood and dishevelled; a mess. He quickly put up another wall between himself and the voice begging him to change and shower, scrub the blood away and be clean. He felt her reach for his hand then and that horrid little voice blinked out of existence as he looked at where her hand held his.

"Danger is what I've always know, danger is normal to me." She told him honestly. "Hades trying to kill you isn't your fault and the real one of me being operated on isn't your fault either. Stop blaming yourself and stop hiding in here, I told you before, you're not a coward." Artemis truly didn't suffer fools.

"Still haven't shown you your file though, have I? Maybe I am something of a coward." He retorted quickly without taking his eyes from where she held his hand.

"No, that's a lie. You haven't show me that file because you don't want to upset me. I can't feel unhappy, British." She reminded softly. "I can't be upset."

"Now who is lying, hmm?" Those blue orbs finally met the polished emeralds he adored so much. "We're both fully aware you can feel far more than you let on, you might not understand what it is but it's there."

"You love me, that's what is the most important. You've moved me out of the subway and into your home, into your bedroom, there's no getting away from you loving me now. You've stopped hiding it from yourself."

The assassin leaned over then, her warmth a welcome change to the cold air around them, and kissed his cheek. When she pulled back he was certain that her eyes were bolder.

"You're scared I'm going to die, but everyone dies, Mycroft." Her voice was so quiet, just a whisper. "And if you think you hate yourself for hurting me now, what would it feel like if I died and you weren't there because you were inside your brain?"

Suddenly he felt her hands on his back – which was odd because there was a wall behind him and she as sat on his left – then he was pushed, sharply and without hesitation. Mycroft braced for impact on the hard, wooden floor but it never came, instead his eyes fluttered and he glanced around finding himself still sat in the waiting room at the hospital. No one had ever been able to just push him out of his mind city before.

He blinked a few times as the standard hospital sounds returned to him and the lights seemed harsh compared to the cabin's almost totally absent light. Mycroft registered a weight on his shoulder, warm, solid, and when he looked up to his right he found it was Gregory sat beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You back with me now?" He asked with a gentle smile; poor man looked exhausted.

Myc straightened instantly which got Greg to take his hand away, back went the mask Mycroft always hid behind.

"My apologies, Gregory, I was -"

Lestrade cut him off. "Yeah, your mind palace-y thing. I've known you and your brother long enough to recognize the difference between being ignored and you and Sherlock being in your heads." The policeman paused a second, hardly even that. "You were talking to her, weren't you? Talking to Artemis."

Myc gave a little nod, there wasn't any point lying to the slightly elder man. "She helps to get me seeing the bigger picture again."

"Yeah, partners can do that a lot. Look, there's been no news yet but I went and asked a nurse and she said that the surgery shouldn't be too much longer."

Myc nodded with gratitude. "Thank you, Gregory, for checking, for staying, you didn't have to."

Sherlock had cleared out almost the second he could, was angry with his elder brother and probably would be for quite some time. John, Mycroft had fully understood, the man needed to be with his daughter; Rosie wasn't even two yet.

"I'm your best friend, Myc, of course I'm staying." Greg looked at him like Mycroft was being stupid. "I'm going to stay right here on this unnecessary uncomfortable chair until that doctor comes in here and tells us she's all right. She's going to be okay, Myc, I don't think a nuclear war could take that girl out."

That comment actually got the auburn-haired man to breathe out a laugh, he really was thankful for Gregory's presence, it was soothing and stopped him permanently retreating into his head until Anthea found him and hit him with something heavy.

"She told me once that it would take more than 'one skinny British dude with a gun' to kill her. Well Charon wasn't a skinny British man, he was the leader of Hades."

Lestrade sighed. "And she killed him. Yes, she got hurt but Artemis is alive and he's in a body bag. I know today didn't go how you wanted what with Hades storming the place early and Sherlock being a total prick but you still won." He stressed every word to the younger man because he was Mycroft Holmes' best friend and it was his job damnit! "Though I'm probably going to be pissed off tomorrow when I remember you made me think you were dead."

That got the dishevelled man to finally look up at the silver-haired one fully, apologetically, and instantly he felt a little bit better. Gregory Lestrade had become something of a fixed position for Holmes the elder, had provided perspective and grounded him.

"I am sorry, Gregory, I had intended for you to have left the building by then."

"I know, I know." Lestrade raked a large hand down his face. "But I had started to word out what I was going to say to Violet when I told her that Uncle Mycie was dead."

Mycroft's expression was unreadable, at least to most people anyway, Greg knew Myc's expressions better than Sherlock did – possibly better than his own mother did – and was completely aware the one splashed across the younger man's face was one of an apology mixed with a little confusion.

"Well at least now you won't have to." Was the best attempt at lightening the mood he'd got? "And why does she insist on calling me 'Mycie'? I tolerate Myc but 'Mycie'? It sounds like an 80s pop star."

Greg breathed out a laugh. "It's because she was six when she came up with it, Myc, and because she adores you."

"I don't see why, children usually take no notice of me or run away."

Greg knew exactly what was happening, Myc didn't want to think about Artemis so he'd turned his attention fully to Violet in order to avoid. Lestrade would let him do it a little longer, Mycroft Holmes having a breakdown wasn't something he or anyone else wanted to see, that and Greg was a nice guy who agreed that Myc actually needed a distraction from Artemis' surgery.

"The first time we met she was scared of you, really tall guy in a suit worth more than my car but you showed her that magic trick remember, and ever since she's loved you." Lestrade smiled at the memory. "I wasn't the one who gave her the term 'uncle' she came up with that on her own."

"I suppose I should be honored then." Said Myc after a few seconds.

Greg nudged him with his shoulder. "There's still time for you to have kids, Myc."

Mycroft froze and looks horrified at Greg who just found it all very amusing.

"As If I'd make a good father, besides, I work far too much and still need to take care of Sherlock."

The silver-haired man nodded, at least that last bit was true. "Yeah, but you would be a good dad. You're great with Violet and I've seen you at Baker Street when you think no one can see you making Rosie laugh."

"No I don't." Mycroft announced a little too quickly as he refused to meet Gregory's gaze.

"Yes, you do. You may not be good with people but you're very good with kids." Lestrade smiled to himself. "I've had a bit of a think as to why actually and I've got a theory."

Mycroft let his head fall backwards against the wall similar to how it had in his mind city. "Do enlighten me, Detective Inspector."

Greg folded his arms over his chest and leaned back a little bit as they continued to wait.

"Well, kids aren't trying to get anything out of you, are they? Not properly, I mean. They don't have any political agendas or anything like that." Lestrade gestured occasionally with one hand despite his arms where still crossed. "They're not trying to get secret information out of you. All the time you're running the country, or the world or whatever the hell it is you really do and it's stressful, there's hardly anyone you can trust. That's why I'm your only friend because you know I honestly don't care, I just want people safe. But when you're around kids, especially younger ones you can stop being Mister British Government and relax, be yourself. That's why you like those old movies too, everything was simpler back then. Back then everything really was just black and white, now it's all just gray."

Mycroft was silent for a few moments as he took in his friends words. "You're becoming quite good at deducing, Gregory."

Lestrade knew that was as close as Myc would ever come to admitting the other man was right about everything he'd just said, so Greg took it and counted it as a win.

The silver-haired man shrugged. "Well, you're brother likes to think I'm a total moron but I am a DI for a reason."

The door way on the other side of the waiting room opened before Myc could – once again – inform Lestrade that just because his intellect wasn't on the same level of his own or Sherlock's didn't mean he was dumb. A brunette woman entered, a short one too, probably would have been dwarfed even by Doctor Watson. Lestrade waited eagerly to hear that everyone's favorite assassin was alive and recovering but Mycroft had quickly turned his considerable skill to deducing everything about this woman and what she had to day; he was speaking before the doctor could even open her mouth.

"She's alive but heavily sedated with no brain damage or at least none you're currently aware of. You had to pump blood out of her lungs and she had internal bleeding."

The doctor's eyes went wide. "How did you-?"

Lestrade cut the doctor off knowing they needed to stick to the subject rather than getting distracted. "He does that."

The doctor paused a moment to take that on board and then spoke again clearly with a tone practised for a bedside manner.

"I am Doctor Sammel, and you're right, Mister Holmes, she's out of surgery and there shouldn't be any lasting brain damage. Whoever provided her medical attention before she got here did so very well. We've kept her sedated in order to prevent her moving and ripping any of the stitches until they've started to heal. Her shoulder is going to be fine as well. She was shot in the abdomen also, and has lost a lot of blood. I've managed to remove all the bullets and stop the internal bleeding. Frankly I'm surprised she kept moving after that gut shot."

"She probably didn't notice." Muttered Mycroft which got Doctor Sammel to stare at him in puzzlement.

She opened her mouth to question him as to how someone could just 'not notice' being shot in the stomach. In truth they'd all been a little suspicious of where this girl had come from when they'd cleaned away the blood and found all the scars. Had the government soldiers not been stationed outside the operating theatre they'd have assumed her to be a victim of violent abuse. However, before Doctor Sammel managed to say anything Mycroft had once again interrupted.

"May I see her?"

Doctor Sammel nodded. "You can see her if you'd like but, as I said, she's going to be out for a while."

The bloody man nodded in understanding. "Thank you."

"I'll have someone come and show you to her room." She paused a moment to look down at Myc's hand. "Would you like me to get a nurse to take a look at your finger, Mister Holmes?"

Myc shook his head as he glanced at the pinky finger Artemis broke. "No, thank you, Doctor Watson already patched me up."

The short doctor made to leave but paused with her hand on the door handle and turned back to face Mycroft; realization had started to work its way across her face.

"Hang on. Holmes, like the detective in the newspapers? Sherlock Holmes?"

Myc didn't respond, clearly done with the conversation so Greg spoke for him.

"Sherlock's his idiot little brother."

Remembering the armed guards in the building Doctor Sammel chose to say nothing more and instead just leave. As soon as the door was closed behind her Myc breathed out a sigh of relief, Artemis was alive. Alive! She would be fine. She'd survive, she'd live just like she always did.

The policeman rose to his feet, said something Mycroft didn't hear then held out a hand to help the younger man up because, even though he'd never for one second admit it Greg knew his friend was in shock. Mycroft took the proffered hand and stood only to tug down his waistcoat, a pointless action since he was still a mess but it was probably an unconscious muscle memory.

A nurse entered then, this one much older than the doctor and far more ready for retirement, she had the sort of face that said she'd cared and devoted herself all her life to the nursing profession but now just wanted to sleep; Mycroft saw a lot of himself in this woman. She took them down a series of halls and up a flight of stairs before she finally stopped outside a private room already with the white door flanked by two armed guards which seemed to catch the nurse off guard. Cautiously she pushed the door open and stepped inside with the government official and detective inspector close behind her.

There they saw Artemis. The girl was unconscious just as they'd been told laying on her beck with a mass of bandages around her heck and clearly a lot more underneath her hospital gown. Mycroft's heart fell, she looked so pale.

Made uncomfortable by the silence the old nurse pointed to a plastic bag over on the chair filled with Artemis' bloody things, gave the obligatory 'call if you need anything' then essentially fled from the room back to her regular duties.

Almost too quietly Mycroft went to the bag and opened it so he could take out his scarf which was now entirely covered in dry blood and had been cut in half by doctors. Artemis had taken care of that scarf for fourteen years and now look at it; trash.

Greg stood on the other side of Artemis bed so he could just look at her, she really was awfully pale and he wasn't sure if how slowly her chest rose and fell was right or not. Artemis really had been to war.

"Well, this is completely destroyed." Mycroft said more to himself than Greg but still the cop looked over ta his friend and the bloody scarf.

"She looks peaceful like this, I've never seen that from her." He said to draw his friends attention back where it belonged.

Fortunately Mycroft set down the ruined scarf and returned to Artemis' bedside and smiled, actually smiled as he looked at her slumber.

"She always looks at peace when she's asleep. Treasure this, Gregory, no one ever gets to see her asleep."

Ever so carefully he brushed her long, raven hair away from her forehead and bent down to kiss her softly, lovingly. Had Sherlock or John been there Myc probably would have remained very rigid until they'd left, but this was Gregory in the room with him, his best friend, the man who was allowed to see that Mycroft really did care, was capable of love and kindness as well as all the other things the Iceman supposedly couldn't do.

"Amazing she went so long without air." Lestrade mused aloud which got Mycroft to raise an eyebrow. "John was saying she should have suffocated but here she is. I'm starting to think she's Captain America or something."

"Oh, I'd say she's more Mockingbird-esque."

So, Lestrade would unpack exactly how Mycroft Holmes of all people knew Marvel comic characters at a later date.

"She was trained to go without air for much longer than regular people, that's probably the only reason she's not dead." Replied Mycroft. "Well, that and the fact she's not prone to panic."

Lestrade opened his mouth to speak but the taller man got there first. "You should go home, Gregory, it's getting late and going to start raining shortly. You are supposed to have Violet tomorrow."

Long ago the silver-haired man had stopped asking how the hell Mycroft knew so much with little more than a sideways glance; now it was just a neat little magic trick his best friend did.

"I can stay if you want me to."

Mycroft shook his head but doesn't look a way from her, he was fully aware Gregory would sit there for hours more without complaint if he asked him to.

"No, thank you, but no. You spent today thinking you'd die and never see your child again. Go home, wash, eat, sleep, then tomorrow take Violet to the zoo like she wants."

Sleep really did sound good to Lestrade, a shower even more so. "You sure you'll be alright?"

The British Government nodded as hospital machines continued to ping and beep and announce things all around the building.

"I'm always alright."

"No you're not, you just pretend because that's what everybody expects from you." Lestrade sighed, he really did know Mycroft better than even his own brother.

"I've told my brother several times." Said the taller man in a rather oddly distant tone.

The detective inspector's brow furrowed with confusion. "Told him what?"

"That caring is not an advantage." Beautiful blue eyes flashed up to Greg's rich brown ones. "I never said I didn't care anyway. Go home, Gregory."

"Okay," the elder man relented, "I'll text you later and check in."He pointed a finger at his friend then, a clearly practised one which said he wasn't leaving room for argument. "You need anything and you call me."

Mycroft nodded. "Of course. Thank you for waiting with me, Gregory. Go home."

Greg clapped Mycroft on the back after he'd rounded the bed in what he hoped would be a lingering mark of comfort then headed out just as it started to rain, a storm had been teasing all day.

Alone, he looked down at Artemis so vulnerable in the bed. He pulled the armchair a little closer to the bed and sat himself down so he could just watch her, so beautiful, so scarred. For a time he just watched her while he clung to her pale hand and let the rain slowly worsen outside. The heavens opened forcing heavy drops down from the heavens that splattered rhythmically on the large glass window to his right; practically its own theme music. He felt sticky and uncomfortable where blood had dried on his clothes and skin, his shirt was practically adhered to his torso now. Mycroft almost couldn't cope with it, hated it, but he needed to sit with Artemis until his brain had finished rebooting at least. Finally he decided to speak.

"All the reapers and generals were killed, Artemis, no one is aware of your involvement as far as I can tell so it is likely you'll be presumed dead along with everyone else. Hades isn't quite dead yet, just gone off to lick their wounds. However, without the generals to keep things functioning they'll be more focused on trying to survive rather than us, at least for a while. It'll give us time to track their faces back and how they got into the country, what names they used. Might not give us an exact location of their other continental headquarters but it will narrow the field significantly. I'll no doubt be torn a new one by most of my colleagues but, well, everyone's right, I run this country and and they'll damn well be quiet when I tell them to be." He paused a moment to take a breath. "When you're well again I'll show you your file as well, I told myself I'd show you after Christmas and then the moment was never right. There are new files in there as well, very new for children no more than six months old. Hades clearly has far more child training centres than we believed, and I for one would very much like for those children to be returned home. You'll be back to perfect health by the time we track those facilities down though, I'm certain that Gregory is quite right, not even a nuclear war would stop you."

He looked out the window again at the rain, gray clouds like something out of The Tempest. This theatrical display seemed far more akin to Sherlock's personality than his own.

"All those people out there and they have no idea what happened today, even the ones who saw the ambulances and military outside the building will have dismissed it as a fire or some sort of training exercise. No one knows that you almost single-handedly destroyed one of the oldest and most ruthless organizations this world has ever known. They have no idea." Mycroft took a calming breath and turned to look at his beloved once more. "Of course that's how we want it, right Artemis?"

No answer, not a single one. Of course Artemis didn't answer they'd filled her full of enough sedatives to knock out a pissed off elephant. He just continued to ignore the sticky feeling and instead hold Artemis' hand tightly. After a few moments he rose a little from his chair so he could once again kiss her lips then rested his forehead against hers a short time.

"You don't die, you hear me? That is an order, Artemis. You. Don't. Die."

~X~

The next morning Anthea walked into the hospital room with coffee and a briefcase to find her boss slumped forwards in his chair beside Artemis with one hand holding firmly holding hers while the other was rested underneath his head on the bed where he'd – at some point – passed out. Anthea hardly spared a glance at her boss, just set the case she carried with her down on the table beside Artemis' things. Quietly she moved around her employer who honestly couldn't have been comfortable, and crouched a little so she could essentially waft the scent of coffee towards his nose. Long ago Anthea had learned not to try waking Mycroft by touching him and when he was this out of it calling his name wouldn't do any good either; also shouting didn't seem appropriate in a hospital so early in the morning. After a long series of peace talks roughly a year after she'd started working for him Anthea had found the poor man passed out due to the four days he'd not slept in, she'd gone to wake him with a gentle hand on his shoulder only to be elbowed rather harshly in the gut for her trouble; all an accident of course. Having learned her lesson Anthea had gone on to figure out easier ways of waking her boss; not that he made a habit of passing out.

A few moments went but until his nostrils twitched and Anthea stepped backwards just as his cerulean eyes fluttered open. Less than half a second passed before he remembered where he was and what was happening then sat up straight to finally turn his attention to the young woman at his side, a slight impression lingered on his cheek from the ring he always wore.

"Morning, Sir. Coffee?"

Nothing in her voice gave away anything which had happened the previous day, that was why Myc admired Anthea so much, she had a wonderful way of compartmentalizing. That and he'd given her enough to figure out what he was planning right before Hades had broken in.

"Wonderful, thank you."

Mycroft took the proffered cardboard cup and drank down a large gulp which practically burned his throat but he didn't care; worse things had been happening to people's throats lately. Anthea always knew just how he liked his coffee, black as night with just a touch of sugar to drive away the bitterness and satisfy his sweet tooth without going overboard. In truth Holmes the elder had always been and always would be more of a tea drinker, but after yesterday Anthea had made the right call to bring him some hard caffeine. He remembered once about three years previous after dealing with an issue in North Korea she'd randomly appeared with a can of Monster he'd stared at her questioningly for a moment only to then chug down the entire thing and feel as though he'd returned to life. If Mycroft Holmes could say anything whole-heartedly it was that Anthea was by far the best assistant he or anyone else could ever ask for.

While he continued to drink his warming coffee Anthea returned to the case and clicked it open without a word, she could feel Mycroft's eyes on her but that was nothing new and it wasn't like he ever ogled her or anything; no, Mycroft Holmes was too much of a gentleman for that. Carefully she took out a neatly folded pile of clothes and went to stand before her employer with them.

"There is an on-call room at the end of the hall, I've already made arrangements for you to use it to shower and change in." She informed him simply.

The tall man finished his coffee then stood, set the cup down and took the clothes. "Thank you."

He pressed a quick kiss to Artemis' forehead as she continued to slumber before he made his way to the ajar door. He stopped and looked back just before he quite reached it though and Anthea instantly noticed the kindness in his eyes.

"Oh, Charlotte."

"Yes, sir?"

"Happy birthday. Your present-"

She cut him off with a soft smile. "Top left drawer of your office desk, I know, sir."

He was gone then for a much needed shower leaving Artemis alone with his assistant. She moved the empty cup into the garbage then sat down in the chair Mycroft had slept in. Mycroft Holmes was a strong man who demanded the best of those who worked for him but he was also the only one who remembered her birthday no matter what was going on around him, no matter how badly the world was burning. He also only ever used her real name when he was fully aware there wasn't anyone else around to hear it. As she sat there she remembered what DI Lestrade had said while they'd all been in that storage closet, Mycroft Holmes really was the very best of men.

"You'll need to hurry up and get better." She said to Artemis as she took out her cell phone. "You die and he's going to lose his shit and I for one don't want to see what he becomes with a broken heart."

With that she opened her phone and started to type while she waited for her boss to return, Artemis was injured, didn't mean Holmes the elder didn't still have work to do.