A/N: Since the time that I wrote this, I have learned that it is, in fact, better to sleep when you have a concussion. Ignore my poor research, please. Alright, carry on.

"Sherlock, that little girl really believes in you. I hope you know what you're doing," John said with a glare at his friend.

"Of course, I do, John." Suddenly, there was a loud crash and a scream from the bottom of the stairs. Before John could move a muscle, Sherlock dashed across the room and bounded down the stairs. Sonja rushed out of Mrs. Hudson's apartment, the older woman on her heels. Mrs. Hudson slouched against the doorframe, looking grey.

Sherlock glanced at Sonja and swept past her and Mrs. Hudson into the living area. Broken glass was scattered across the rug and a fireplace poker lay in the middle of it all. Swearing, he turned around and headed out to the street. When he hit the sidewalk, it had been less than thirty seconds since his cousin screamed, but while there were a few panicky tourists scurrying away, no one else was in sight. He scanned the tourists suspiciously before cursing again. A quiet sob from the door and the sound of John telling Mrs. Hudson to come upstairs drew him back to the moment. In two steps he was inside with the front door closed and standing beside his cousin.

Sonja was shaking so hard that she couldn't speak. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around her cousin. To her surprise, he actually returned the gesture. "Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded into his chest, refusing to let go, even as he turned and guided her up the stairs. He finally pulled her off and sat her down on the couch. Glancing toward the kitchen, he saw John handing Mrs. Hudson a cup of tea and caught his friend's eye. When John nodded, Sherlock turned to Sonja, "What happened?"

Sonja took a steadying breath and sat up straighter, "I was standing with Mrs. Hudson in her living room while she looked in her letter bin for the number, when there was a sudden crash. I turned around to see a man with a cloth around his face trying to get through the window. I panicked and screamed, then I picked up the fireplace poker and swung it at him. I made contact and he fell back. That's when I dropped the poker, grabbed Mrs. Hudson and ran."

Sherlock gave a triumphant cry and leapt up, dashing back downstairs. He was back in a moment with the poker, holding it at arm's length with his handkerchief. He held it next to the lamp in the living room and examined it closely. "Just as I suspected. John, could you bring me that plastic stuff you wrap around your sandwiches?"

Dr. Watson pulled the plastic wrap out of a drawer and brought it to Sherlock, who promptly used most of the roll to wrap the poker.

"Well, nothing to do until the lab opens up," he said, putting the poker on the mantle. He strode over to the kitchen and placed a hand on the housekeeper's shoulder, "Alright, Mrs. Hudson?"

The older woman nodded, "Yes, thank you, Sherlock, dear. I'll be just fine in a moment, just a little shaken." She gave him a weak smile and patted his hand to show that she meant it.

Sherlock nodded curtly and turned to look at Sonja, who was staring at the rug, her eyes out of focus. After watching her for a moment, he decided the most appropriate thing would be to leave her alone. However, he wanted a description of the man while everything was fresh in his cousin's mind. As such, he edged over and sat down beside her, "Sonja? What can you remember about the man?"

She looked up at him with a start, "Oh, Sherlock. Sorry, I was thinking. What did you say?"

Sherlock fought down a sigh of exasperation and repeated, "Can you describe the man? The one in the window?"

Sonja nodded slowly, "Yes, that's actually what I was thinking about. I…I can't be absolutely certain, but the hair color and build match. I believe he was the same person who bumped me this afternoon. He was wearing a black cloth over his face, but he had very distinctive bright green eyes. He also had a scar over his left eyebrow."

Sherlock nodded eagerly, "Anything else? Anything you remember from the background?"

Sonja paused for a moment and blinked, "Yes, there was someone on the ground behind him, but I was too worried about him to get a good look at them. I'm sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock had shifted his gaze out the window while he filed away the new information, but now his eyes snapped back to his cousin, who had her head down and was twisting her hands in her lap, "Nonsense, you've given me everything I need." Sonja's grey eyes met his and he saw the surprise there, but he forged ahead, "Now, can you tell me what you learned about those girls today. I was aware they went to the same school, but I haven't had a chance to follow things very far. Your school is fairly secure, so the young man who bumped you is either a student or he works there in some capacity."

Sonja smiled slightly and plunged into what she had discovered about the girls that afternoon, "I wanted to see if the other two girls were academic as well, but all this mess happened and well…"

Sherlock nodded and leapt toward his laptop. As he began working, Sonja appeared at his shoulder, "Would you teach me?"

"What good would it be to you?"

"See that's the thing about being a writer: you have to gather as many experiences and skills as possible. It helps refine your writing when you can describe something from firsthand experience," she said.

Sherlock jerked his head toward John's desk chair and she pulled it over beside him.

John shook his head as he took Mrs. Hudson's cup, "You'd think this sort of thing happened to people all the time."

Mrs. Hudson smiled and stood slowly, "Well, John, I think they're just a different sort of people. They handle things differently. I'm glad to see him doing so well with her, though."

John nodded, "Mrs. Hudson, you're welcome to take my room if you don't want to go back down."

"No, dear, I think I'd be more comfortable in my own bed. Thank you, though," Mrs. Hudson said, heading for the stairs.

"Well, at least let me walk you down. We'll have to find something to block that window as well. Don't want you catching a cold," John said, offering the elderly woman his arm. She smiled gratefully and allowed him to escort her.

Sherlock left early the next morning, ordering John to stay right with Sonja. He also asked him to keep his pistol handy. John had looked sharply from Sherlock to the bathroom door where Sonja was taking a shower. "Sherlock, do you think they'll be back?"

"I'm almost certain, especially when they see me leaving with the poker. Bit hard to conceal. Keep the curtains drawn and make sure Sonja stays inside," Sherlock said, shoving his arms into his coat. "I should be back this evening, at which point, our friend will no longer be a free man."

John shook his head as Sherlock swept out of the flat and closed the door behind him. He went into his bedroom and got his pistol out, slipping it into the back of his waistband so that Sonja wouldn't see it. Well, so that he could say he made an attempt to keep Sonja from seeing it.

That evening, Sonja sat at the kitchen table looking irritable. She wanted to look out the windows, but John had taken her notebook prisoner and was threatening to leave it in his personal safe for a month if she did. He looked just as edgy as she did, sitting in his chair pretending to read the paper with his pistol on his lap. Both of them jumped at sudden noises.

Sonja sighed and looked at the clock. It was nearly ten o'clock. She got up and started pacing again. Suddenly, Dr. Watson burst out laughing. Sonja stopped and glared at him, "What on earth could possibly be funny?"

John smiled at her, "You look almost exactly like him, pacing like that."

Sonja tried to keep a straight face, but she couldn't help returning the smile, "Really?" John nodded, then jumped as they both heard a door open and close and footsteps on the stairs. John was on his feet in half a second, pushing Sonja behind him as he cocked his pistol.

Mrs. Hudson started back as she walked into the room and saw the gun, "Good heavens, John, put that thing down."

Dr. Watson and Sonja both let out a breath, "Sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I'm afraid we're both a bit on edge."

"Do you think I'm not?" she said, bringing a tray with chocolate cake and tea on it into the kitchen, "I've brought some things for you both. Sonja, dear, I know you're having trouble eating, but do try."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Won't you join us?" Dr. Watson said, looking for a way to make up for aiming a gun at the landlady.

"No, no, I've got things to tend to. I'll be back for the tray in a bit," she said, hurrying back down the stairs.

"She's right, Sonja. You need to try to eat something," John said, motioning for the girl to sit down.

Sonja sat down and took a cup to have some tea. She studied the cake and said, "I know, and I'm sure at any other time it would look and smell fantastic, but I'm just worried. He hasn't texted either of us all day and he…he said he'd be back this evening. Oh, Dr. Watson, what if something awful happened?"

John smiled gently and patted her arm, "John, please, Sonja. I'm sure he's just wrapped up in his lead. If anything really bad had happened, I'm sure someone from Scotland Yard would have been by or called or…" He trailed off awkwardly and put one of the pieces of cake in front of the girl. "Just a bite?"

Sonja smiled at his effort to comfort her, "Thank you, Doctor…John." She picked up her fork and forced down a few bites between swallows of tea. She was certain the cake was wonderful, but at the moment it tasted like dirt. She only did it to make Dr. Watson feel better. "John," she said suddenly, "do you think…what if Sherlock doesn't want me here anymore?" She blurted the last part out so that all the words ran together.

"What?! Whatever gave you that idea?" he asked, leaning back slightly and tilting his head.

"Well, I've been so much trouble. Meddling in his case, nearly getting killed. I'm worried he thinks I'm in the way," she shrugged and studied the bits of tea leaves at the bottom of her cup.

John sat forward, "Did he say something after I went to bed last night?"

She shook her head, "He didn't say much of anything, really, other than reminding me not to go to sleep because of my concussion."

John smiled broadly, "That's amazing. Usually he doesn't make an effort unless he actually cares. Honestly, I think he likes having you here. He hasn't done anything really out of line since you got here. You're a puzzle for him, I think, and I've seen you genuinely surprise him at least twice."

Sonja looked at him, "Well, maybe you're right. You probably know him better than I do anyhow."

The sound of a door opening and very heavy, uneven footsteps drew their attention. Both sat up straight and John picked up his pistol again. Then, "John, I could use a hand."

"Sherlock!" John and Sonja shouted together, leaping to their feet and charging for the stairwell, just as the dark-haired detective reached the top. His coat was slung over his left arm and his left hand was clamped firmly on his right arm. "Sherlock, is that a bullet wound?" Dr. Watson said, helping his friend into the kitchen chair Sonja had just vacated. He pried Sherlock's hand off his bloody sleeve and said, "Sonja, will you get the scissors for me? And the black case in my room?"

Sonja nodded and dashed to fetch the required items. John cut the sleeve of Sherlock's shirt and pulled it off so he could examine the injury. As he started working, Sonja stared expectantly at her cousin, holding her questions back with immense effort.

Sherlock had leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Now, however, he opened one eye and gave Sonja a triumphant smile, "I got them, both of them. I'll tell you everything later, as I'm sure John would make me repeat it for his little blog anyhow. I also went by your school today; they'll be allowing you to turn in all the work you've done and take a few tests, then they'll mail you your diploma."

Sonja grinned, "Sherlock, you're fantastic." She hugged him very carefully around the neck and kissed him on the cheek. John smiled at them both as he finished securing the bandage on Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock said, "Is that cake all you've eaten today?"

Sonja laughed, "Your as bad as Mum. I couldn't eat, I was too worried."

Sherlock shrugged, his face twitching at the pain caused by the motion. He stood and went back to the stairs, "Mrs. Hudson!"

"Sherlock, so glad to know you're alright," came the landlady's voice after a moment, "Will you be wanting anything?"

"Food, Mrs. Hudson, for all of us, whatever you have," he called, then turning back to John and Sonja he added, "I haven't eaten today, either. Too busy, and food is boring, but, I admit, necessary." He went to his favorite chair and settled in with his long legs stretched out and his head leaned back.

Sonja smiled and said, "Looks like you need some sleep, too." She yawned herself and took the chair Sherlock had been sitting in, deciding she should finish the cake. It smelled a lot better now and she was beginning to feel both hungry and tired.

"Yes, after, er, dinner, I suggest you both get some rest. Sonja, I believe you are out of any danger from that knock on the head, and Sherlock, you need rest so that arm will heal," John said, taking on his 'serious doctor' persona.

"Yes, mum," Sherlock replied without opening his eyes. Sonja burst out laughing and John snorted.