Sherlock held tightly onto the tops of Isla's arms, his eyes drawn to the splotches of red across her skin. Blood. His heart raced, his mind far out stripping it. He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her. She was going into shock he knew. She didn't even seem to realize that she had been injured.
He hurried her towards the other end of the alley, away from the crowd of people and hailed a cab. "St. Bart's," he told the driver as they got in, simultaneously pulling out his phone.
I need you. Emergency. I'll be there in 10. SH
He typed and sent this in a flash, his eyes flicking back up to Isla's face. She was staring at her hands. "Isla?" her head snapped up.
"Yes?"
"Where's Mycroft?"
"I don't know. Safe."
Sherlock shook his head. Mycroft should be making sure she was safe, not the other way around. The ride took far too long. Sherlock threw the money at the cabbie and pulled Isla from the car.
"Sherlock, what's going on? Why are we at the hospital?"
At that moment the front doors opened, and Molly appeared, her face flushed. "What is it Sherlock? Are you ok?"
He pushed past her without a word, leading Isla down the stairs to the mortuary. He could feel her shaking slightly under his grip and it caused a lump to form in his throat, sending memories of two years ago flooding back to him. He picked her up and put her on an autopsy table, ignoring her protests.
"Sherlock-"
"Molly, I'm going to need you to look after her. Off the books. For me, please?" he asked, turning to her. She paused, her expression changing rapidly before rushing out once more. Sherlock turned to her and asked in a low voice, his face inches from hers, "Isla, what happened?"
She looked down, suddenly the ashamed child caught smuggling sweets. But then that expression was gone, replaced with that of cool efficiency. She pulled off his coat, wincing for the first time as the broken glass pulled at her skin. Then she pulled up the hem of her dress and unstrapped a handgun and stowed it in the pocket of his coat before handing it to him.
Molly entered again, carrying a hospital gown and a tray full of medical equipment. He stepped outside the door, allowing them privacy, the gun in his jacket pocket like a lead weight. There was a small portable radio lying on a cart. He flipped it on, listening intently to the crackling voice.
"Three are dead after the attack at the Minister's Ball. Officials are refusing to comment although we now know that all three were Russian nationals. No word yet on suspects."
He turned it back off, his worst fears confirmed. His baby sister was a killer. He turned as he heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by Molly's reassurances.
"I didn't even realize-"
"Luckily, it seems to have only grazed you."
Sherlock stepped back inside the room them, his eyes finding the place at her side where the bullet had struck her, where Molly was sewing her back together. She looked so small, sitting there in nothing but her undergarments, her face ashen. He could see scars running across her skin, tokens from her time in Yemen. Isla didn't look at him as Molly removed the last of the glass and finished her stitching.
"I'll just run up and see if I can find you some pain medicine. They don't tend to send any down here," Molly said with a laugh. Isla smiled.
"It's fine, I'm ok without it-"
"That would be wonderful Molly," he said, flashing his best smile. She blushed and hurried out, leaving them alone together. His smile fell.
"She's in love with you."
Sherlock ignored her. "Did you kill those Russians Isla?"
She gaped at him. "How?"
"What do you mean, how? Honestly Isla, why can't you ever just think? I told you to wait, I told you to get out. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into!"
Her temper flared at that. "I'm not a child anymore Sherlock! I can take care of myself."
"You can't. Just look at you!"
"You've no idea what I'm capable of!"
"Unfortunately, I am well aware of what your line of work entails!"
"Oh get off your high horse! I only fired after the woman killed the Ambassador. I neutralized a very real threat."
"Neutralized? Is that what we're calling it?"
"You don't want to say it any more than I do. What, are you afraid it would be bad for business, seeing as your sister is a murderer?"
"That has nothing to do with-"
"What is it then Sherlock? Because I don't know what else to do."
Molly entered again then, holding a small paper cup of pills. Her eyes were wide. It seemed she had heard. Isla turned towards her and she took a step back.
"Yes, Molly, I killed someone. Two someones. Well, that was just tonight. Sherlock doesn't approve," she said, getting up from the table. Molly hovered by the door, frozen with fear.
"Isla!" Sherlock said sharply, his face twisted with fury.
"Of course, it doesn't matter to him why I did it. Did you know they were murderers? That case Sherlock's been working on? The man I shot, he chopped them up. I heard him say so. And the woman shot the Ambassador and me before I shot her. So really, am I the one to be frightened of?"
"That is quite enough," Mycroft said as he entered, his voice sounding deadly. "Now if you repeat any of this," he said, turning to Molly, "Well I'm sure you can quite guess the sort of people you are dealing with. Now scuttle."
She did so, a relieved look on her face. Mycroft closed the door behind her.
So another update. Not quite sure about this one so far. Please review!