Hello! So sorry for taking so long to update! T.T Honestly, I didn't mean to go missing for so long. Here are two chapters full of flashbacks to make it up.

My finals are nearing their not-so-glorious end, and I'll be able to update quite often.

So, basically there are four chapters left. For the time being, all mistakes are my own, but the story will most likely be reviewed later.

Anyway, I'll be completing this story this week, and I have an awful lot of plot-bunnies to pick from. The main question is - should I make this story a series? I have a half-written prequel with Irene Adler and Rita Sorrel aka Victoria exclusive French adventure, and a fairly good idea of a post-TRF sequel. What do you think? Could it be worth a shot?

I'll stop babbling now. Enjoy the chapter, and please review! :)

Chapter 20. Walking by your side.

After Vick let him go, Sherlock felt oddly embarrassed by her beaming smile. He looked away and finally found an escape road. "Let's get you to the hospital."

Victoria followed her brother to the door. She was feeling dizzy and weak, but considered herself above asking for assistance. Without any warning, John gently took her by the elbow and helped to walk. Uncomfortable at first, the young woman shot a content smile at the doctor. They walked in silence behind Sherlock's silhouette through the dark hallway until they got out of the building.

"By the way… Thank you, John." His blushing face made her grin even more, but pain and bruises quickly morphed her beam in a grimace.

He helped her coming down the few steps. "For what?"

"For keeping an eye on us." There was an honest gratitude in her grey eyes that sent shivers down Watson's spine. He felt warmth spreading in his chest and his face sporting a nice shade of pink. Of course he would look after them. Sherlock had always been brilliant but reckless. John would always feel responsible for his best friend, he would let him do whatever his superior mind wanted to do and yet he would watch the genius very closely and prevent him from getting hurt. As far as he could tell, Victoria was more composed than her brother. However she seemed to have a tendency to risk her life quite often. So of course, John would have to look after those two.

Victoria winced at the sharp pain in her chest. It was a good thing that John helped her to steady herself. She looked up to Sherlock's back hurrying the sandy path down to the gate. He taught her a lot of things. Skills she kept using even after her psyche locked away the memory of those lessons. Observing, trailing, questioning. Traps and chemistry. Not exactly what big brothers should teach their little sisters, but it was so exciting to see him revealing all those well-hidden secrets. Sometimes it got annoying, as he was often upsetting the few friends she had in the primary school, but he would always do something to make up for this, like making pretty fireworks in the back-yard or hiding sweets under her pillow and pretend to not knowing a thing about it. And she always enjoyed attending the usual word-fights between him and Mycroft. Sherlock was too impatient and far too much willing to show-off, so he rarely won the battle.

They were walking down the short alley to the gate when Victoria suddenly stopped. "What's wrong?" Sherlock immediately went back to them. She looked rather confused.

"If we go out… HE will be there, right?"

It took Holmes two seconds to understand who she was talking about. "Yes."

The girl hesitated even more. "Has he… changed?"

"To the worse, I assure you."

"Who are you talking about?" They turned to John, and since Sherlock decided to stay silent for once, Victoria had to explain.

"Mycroft." She sighed. "He was a very strict older brother. Sherlock was way cooler." She remembered the day, so many years ago, when four boys from the public school bullied her in the park. She came home with bruises, and tried to hide it, but the twelve-years-old Sherlock found out almost immediately. The next day he trailed her back to the park, and when her plan for vengeance (just a simple trap involving water and glue and oil, she read it in one of Mycroft's books) backfired, Sherlock joined the fray and boxed the bullies. Well, he got punched too. It made her mad and she switched to the furious mode, and hit one boy with a tree branch. They got seriously scolded after that, but Sherlock deduced all the adults within the ten-meter radius, and the frightened look on their faces was definitely worth the punishment when Mycroft got wind of the incident. Actually, it wasn't that bad. He grounded them for a week; however those boys never went near her (or Sherlock) again. And two days later Mycroft bought them a chocolate cake, and a new chemistry set.

"Oh really?" John tried to imagine Sherlock as a cool kid, but the result was just too weird. He accidentally glanced at his friend. "Wait a minute, are you blushing?!"

Amused, Victoria turned to her brother. "You're right, he's blushing!"

Feeling silly, and that was not good, Sherlock chose to retreat to the gate. "You'll have to meet him anyway!" he shouted over his shoulder.

Victoria and John exchanged understanding glances and chuckled. Sherlock's reactions were funny to observe. This one and probably only time, he was not the one making social experiments on others.

Outside, there was the usual hustle of police cars, static orders from walkie-talkies, journalists and just curious people crowded behind the yellow tape. Quick to fully grasp the situation, Holmes placed himself in front of his sister, hiding her behind his coated lanky frame, so the cameras couldn't snatch a glimpse of her. Three ambulances were parked in a row at their right. One just took off, and Lestrade joined them.

"I just sent Eric to the hospital. You should see the medics too, Miss Sorrel…"

Sherlock glared at him, and Vick felt sorry for the inspector. She knew for sure that her brother wouldn't tell anything to the police until the very end, and then DI Lestrade couldn't possibly be informed of her newly regained family status. In a shy, yet fearless attempt to save her colleague from Holmes's wrath, she talked: "Actually, I recently figured out Rita Sorrel is not my real name…"

Greg inserted a dry retort: "I know that much."

She spoke in an apologetic voice: "My name is Victoria Holmes."

"You're siblings." It was more of a statement than a question. Sherlock silently nodded, unwilling to elaborate on the matter. "Christ, there are three of you… I hope to hear the whole story later. Your brother is waiting over there." And he left with a friendly nod. After all, the operation was a success, both hostages came out alive. Not such a bad ending.