Chapter Text
John looked around from his broad sheet news paper, "did you just say sister?", but both brothers ignored his question and stood in silence.
Buttoning his black suit jacket, Sherlock took a deep breath as if to say something, but abruptly stopped as Mycroft patted his own jacket.
Mycroft continued to put his hand in his jacket and pulled out a small disk,enclosed in a clear casing.
"Footage." he said, waving it in Sherlock's face until he snatched it off him.
Striding towards the DVD player, John stood up to demand to know what was going on, before realising he wasn't going to get very much information from Mycroft while wearing his fluffy dressing gown. Deciding against an argument, John leaves the room to put some clothes on, squeezing Sherlock's arm as he passes.
The sudden quietness in the flat was shocking. Inside, there was a highly functioning sociopath/ consulting detective, a man that is practically the British government and an invalid army doctor, yet not one of them had anything to say. The only noise to be heard was John's feet in the upstairs bedroom, Mycroft's impatient fingers tapping his umbrella and the click of a button as Sherlock stood up and slowly sat in his arm chair.
The screen went black for a second, before playing CCTV from an abandoned lobby. "Yesterday, she made it into an abandoned building where Sebastian Moran and his men reside. As you can imagine, there were multiple casualties", Mycroft said, trailing off at the end as a dark haired woman entered the corner of the screen.The two watched in silence as she tied up her hair,and only twenty seconds later opened fire to five armed men to which she murdered. She was efficient, quick and steady and kept her pase up, taking them down one by one in less than a minute. Seconds later she shot the camera, turning the screen black and leaving an eary silence in the room.
"It seems she hasn't lost her touch", Sherlock suddenly spoke up. Standing up from his cross legged position, as he addressed Mycroft. "She couldn't of been assigned to Sebastian Moran's case, it's MI6 material, she's CIA"
Mycroft's lip twitched with a slight smile. "Indeed, but it seems as though one of my secret service men are leaking information to a willing source in Washington D.C. Someone who wants information from her, maybe a lie or a cover-up, or maybe they simply just want her dead".
Sherlock stood there for a second, pondering the new information as John walked in.
"You don't trust your own secret service?", he adds smugly, letting them know he heard everything.
"No, they all spy on people for money", he retorted, quirking his lips.
"Why are you coming to me with this? She's perfectly capable, you just showed me a whole video that proves my point" , Sherlock said irritated. "You're basically the British government, sort it out yourself, I don't need you threatening me with another knight hood", John laughed and of course Mycroft looked at him sternly.
"Because, my dear brother I-", John suddenly cleared his throat, interrupting Mycroft. With a sigh, he started again. "AND Dr.Watson... What I didn't show you was the CCTV footage on the next floor where she proceeds to be shot in the leg and moved out of the building.Obviously, to another location, otherwise we'd have the footage and we'd have Gray", Mycroft said, with a sudden tone of finality.
Both John and Sherlock stood quietly, uncertain of what to say. It was extremely odd for the consulting detective to not have something to say, but John realised it was his sister he was talking about here. Someone he's known his whole life and cares about no matter how much he would deny it. Sherlock Holmes loves her and there was nothing he could say to justify the fact. It wasn't a simple case for him, it was one to be taken with precision and the upmost care.
Understanding the situation, Mycroft nodded towards John as if to say his goodbyes and exited the flat.
Still unbelievably quiet, Sherlock made his way to his arm chair,crossing his legs over and steepling his fingers underneath his chin. John knew there was nothing he could do at this point, so he tried to reassure him by squeezing Sherlock's shoulder softly, letting his fingers stay a little longer than they should have, before sitting down to write about their recent case.
'The Elephant in the Room' he had decided to call it. He laughed inwardly, remembering the situation, because it wasn't just a saying anymore. They had gotten a call from Lestrade informing them of the case, but Sherlock refused to go assuming it was a practical joke. But, as soon as John texted him a picture of Lestrade posing with the elephant, he was there in under ten minutes, and so it began.
~
Still in the same position that John left him in four hours ago,Sherlock continued to think.
John couldn't imagine what was going through his mind. Even though Harry and him never really got along he imagined how devastated he'd be if it was her instead of Sherlock's sister.He felt a sudden pang in his chest, longing for his alcoholic sister, just so he could see her.Make sure she was okay.But then again Harry never really was okay.
Five minutes later, as John poured himself and Sherlock a cup of tea, Lestrade burst through the door hyperventilating.
"A body", he almost shouted, holding onto the door frame. Sherlock glared at Lestrade for the sudden disruption while John stood in the room with a teaspoon that held two tea bags, looking confused as ever.
"It's her Sherlock,it's bloody her", Sherlock suddenly paled, grabbing his coat and scarf before running out of the flat, along with Lestrade.
John stood there with a gaping mouth,tea bags in hand and thought to himself that he should probably move his arse.
Getting into a taxi, John told the cabbie to bring him to St.Bartholomews Hospital. He stared out the window , trying to keep at least some composure with all the chaos, but he had so many questions reeling through his head. But, the one thing that stood out from the sudden news, was that Lestrade knew who she was.