hello loves! I can NOT wait for the Christmas special!

... And something hurled at Lissie, knocking the wind out of her and causing her to fall. Breathless, she hunched on the ground and watched as the bullet thudded into - Sherlock?

"No," she screamed, scrambling to her feet. He was on the ground, pale and arm bloody.

"Stay down."

Suddenly there were police and agents everywhere. Sherlock had his hand over his arm. "It just nicked me," he said, trying to smile.

"You knocked me down; you saved me," she said dazedly. Looking about, she climbed to her feet. Realization was just beginning to dawn.

"Oh my God. Oh, Sherlock, are you alright?"

"Fine, honest. I've had worse." He sat up and allowed someone to bandage it.

Brooke was hugging her father and a woman who had to be her mother. They were all crying as they left the room. The Karovians were being led off in handcuffs, but Carolyn was nowhere to be seen. The woman Brit agent finished bandaging Sherlock's arm.

A tall blond man, the leader of the MI6 group, was performing a perimeter check for any extra Karovians. He knelt down to examine the dead man.

"Who-" he began

"I killed him," Lissie said slowly. "He was going to shoot Winters and I, so I shot first." Sherlock put his hand on her shoulder.

The man studied her for a second, muscular jaw working. Then he straightened. He picked up the gun from beside the body.

"It's the female agent's," Lissie explained. "I took it from her." She felt herself begin to tremble, but she was emotionless.

"Holmes is your father?"

"Yes, sir."

He eyed Sherlock for a split second, then took the gun and rubbed it repeatedly on the edge of his suit jacket.

"Forsenics won't be able to get a clear fingerprint, we'll let them assume the agents turned on each other. The female agent was killed in the scuffle outside, no one will know the truth. You won't have to testify, Miss Holmes."

"Thank you, James," Sherlock said, relief evident. They shook hands vigorously.

James turned to Lissie. "I'd refer you for youth agents any day. You can keep your cool and you're a damn good shot." He hastened off.

"Let's go home," Sherlock said then, and, ducking past police, they went, the frightened, dizzy spinning-away feeling never quite leaving Lissie. The warmth of what James had done cheered her some. She had a feeling she'd be expected to forget him.

Sherlock drove quite well with his bandaged arm. Thank God he was alright. He had saved her so many times...She could not focus on any one thought. Everything was jumbled. She slumped in her seat, hands over her face.

Sherlock was driving and sneaking occasional worried looks at her. "It's okay," he said eventually, a kind but futile attempt to remedy her pain.

"It's not okay! Nothing is ever normal or okay for me. My mum's dead, I've been kidnapped, hospitalized, left in foster care, almost-killed three times, and now I've shot a man!"

John, he thought suddenly. She sounds like John did when he was talking about his ptsd. Dead inside. The thought worried him. He felt himself slip into deduction mode.

"Do you still have those frightening dreams?"

"Yes," she whispered faintly. All the anger had vanished.

"Are they things that have happened in your memory?"

"No I was too young to remember, so they're...like things I've been told about, I guess? They're so real."

"All the same thing?"

"Yes sir."

Cautiously, as if he were trying not to scare a wild animal, he ventured, "Will you tell me about the most recent one?"

She closed her eyes, as if the thought pained her, but began. "I dreamed about Mum dying, but it was so real. As if I was there. I could see everything."

"You've had a lot happen lately."

"I was so worried about you," she finished with a sob.

"I'm sorry. Truly." Thoughtfully, he added, "you're more upset than mad. When you're mad you crease your eyebrows and lace your fingers together."

"Timing, Sherlock." She almost laughed.-or perhaps it was hysterics. Was he really making deductions at a time like this?

"I'm done with MI6, if that's any consolation. But I heard my daughter may go out for youth agents." He tried to smile.

"Maybe...thank you for saving me back there. And all the other times, too."

"You're very welcome. Didn't I say I'd always be there if you truly needed me?"

"Yes... And you have." She was crying and trying to hide it. "I knew you'd come."

They rode in silence. Then Sherlock looked at her. "Are you cold?" She was shivering.

"I'm always cold," she said, attempting a smile.

"I brought your blanket," he offered, almost embarrassed. Was that too motherly? Did dads do that? What did fathers do, anyhow? Blimey! Tv mums gave all the love, dads cracked jokes and took children fishing.

"Thank you, Sherlock! When did you-"

"I stopped by the flat to get my ID. I'd already planned on bringing you with me, so I grabbed some of your things."

"What do you mean?"

"Boarding school is no place for you. We've been separated for long enough. Besides, you're having those dreams I want to figure out how to help. A lot has happened lately, and we need to lie low for a bit. So we're going to your estate for a bit."

"Are we hiding from someone? Is it dangerous?"

He smiled crookedly. "Lissie?"

"What?"

"When has your association with me NOT brought danger?"

"Oh. Right. Ha."

Out of the corner of his eye he watched her, even as he continued to talk cheerfully. Something was wrong. She had been through great trauma, but he could not let her get the way John had been at their first meeting. He must shelter her and keep her safe.