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Chapter Text

"Remember wh-what I've.. told y--you?" he asked her, whispering.

Looking up to see his bruised face, the girl nodded understandably, "We run towards that small waving light, as fast as we can." she said eyes seemed determined.

"Don't--"
"Oh, and don't look back." she added, eyes looking straight into the dark night, with one hand holding onto her backpack strap, another one gripped tightly in his swollen wounded cold hand; getting ready to run.

He was exhausted.

His not so fitted body was worn out, sensing that his energy was waning away, fast. If he had choices, he would love to lay down on the cold floor.. because his whole body was so bloody hot. But this had to be done now. This was the only opening.. the only opportunity.

Nodded back, he squeezed her hand gently. "Come on."

...

It was dark. Freezing cold.. and yet, he was sweating profusely. Making his wet hand almost letting go of the small hand, that gripped firmly into his.

Ran.
As fast as they could.. ignoring all of his pain.
His mouth kept muttering encouraging words for her. Stuttering.

"Come on.. girl."
"You've got.. got this."

Without realising his left hand that secure firmly on his side, getting wetter and wetter by mere seconds.

...

They were almost there. But climbing the hill, in the darkness, with pain everywhere, proved to be extremely challenging. His shaky hands kept pushing the girl. "Almost.. th--there."

"OYYY!!"

Paused, when he heard someone yelled from afar, sounded angry and furious.. before hearing a lot of footsteps running at full speed towards them.

Looking down to the foot of the hill, he could see those men who they were running from, started to climb to reach them. His heart pounding harder inside his battered chest. His foggy mind tried to think of something.

New plan.

He turned the girl to face him. "You.. you keep running, alright, love? I'll promise.. I'll be right behind you." muttered him hastily, eyes kept alternating between looking at her and those men who were getting closer.

She shook her head, tears started to appear in her eyes. "No. No! You promise to be with me till the end! You promised, Greg!" she said, cold smoke puffed from her mouth, reminding him about his own promise.

"I will.. it just--"
No time.

"Go.. now. Now!" he pushed her back with a little force. "Don't forget, yeah?" his last words before seeing her nodded her little head, and ran towards that small waving light, that seemed bigger and brighter.

Smart girl. Smiled to himself, he was proud of her. He really did. But now not the time.

Now was the time to get ready.

Ready to fight for his life.
Again.

Chapter Text

Twelve days ago.

He was looking down, writing something on his thick file when suddenly someone burst into his office without knocking. Startled, he perked his head up and sighed.. when he saw who it was and feeling his headache started to appear.

Strange.

Because he was not alone.

There was a girl standing next to him.. with a ponytail, and a cute jacket matching with the shoes.. and a navy coloured backpack. Who was that girl? Why she was with him? How--

Shrugged, before his thought got carried away. "What now?" Irritated.

The man just stood there, staring at him, ignoring his question, maybe trying his best not to shout at him to shut up, because he was thinking too loud or.. or asking question.
The girl's eyes just wandering around, looking.. silently judging his office.

"What did you do now, Sherlock?" paused, "And who's that girl? Did you took her from some random school around 'ere, and pretending to be yours?" asked him again, assuming the worse; before getting up from his comfy chair behind the table, and walked closer.

Still snubbed, the detective breathing out, and stared straight into his eyes. "She's your responsibility now."

Eyes blinked once, he glanced at the girl before looking back at the detective, trying to sink in his words. Bewildered.

"What?"

...

Her name was Josephine Carter.

Finn, just called her Finn.

She was ten and apparently she was here because of her father -- one of Mycroft Holmes' workers slash minions; had been compromised, while being undercover in one of the huge cartel in the UK.. and nowhere to be found, as for now.

Somehow they knew about her.. and targeting her..

.. and that was how he -- the Inspector; got into this mess.. without his knowledge, per usual, with the task given -- to keep her safe.

"I wish not to troubling you, Inspector. Unfortunately, my people is not in the right position to do this job. You see, the cartel might recognise them, and this will jeopardise all of our operations as it is." reasoned Mycroft Holmes, who was also there in his office, when the Inspector asked why appointed him instead of his group of skilled people.

.. and Sherlock been Sherlock, casually dodging the burden when he said he was busy, and already had other things preoccupied.
If by mean preoccupied was boring, so..

Sighed, because clearly he refused to do it.
Why would he.. this was way out of his division. This thing would take most of his time, and time that he really did not have. He had tonnes of reports to write, and crime scenes to handle.

But did the Holmes' brothers care? Considerate?

Absolutely.
No.

He hated it. Not enough profanity words to suffice this.

Then they left, leaving the kid with him. Ten minutes later Mycroft's assistant -- Anthea, came with the details.

...

They were in his car, just the both of them, on their way to his flat.

In silent.

Because his heart was still hurting.. after having those conversation.. argument.. fight.. with him -- the detective.

His mind slowly flying back to the disagreement that he had with the detective before that said detective walked out from his office and slammed the door; making his heart wreathed even harder in his chest.

"You and John do it, then!"
"Are you insane Lestrade?! He has a job!"

"And I don't??"
"Exactly!"

He remembered his headache became intensified, knowing too bloody well that he would never win with him.

"Can at least I get a thank you for helping you out?" asking him, just a tiny piece of appreciation.
Scoffed, "Why would I? This is your job, isn't it? Helping innocent citizen."

He absentmindedly shaking his head remembering how arrogantly the great detective said those words.

"You know Sherlock, sometimes I think you might be the reason I'll die somewhere in the ditch alone." He didn't know why in his conscious rightful mind that he said those things. Maybe he was just tired..

.. tired of being manipulated by him.. and his brother.

Because at the end of the day, he just a normal, typical, boring human being, who deserved at least a little bit of acknowledgement.

"So what? Everyone dies anyway. You died in the ditch, or.. or in the woods, or drowning in the ocean.. who cares? Bad news for you sir, no one!"

Sherlock should stop talking now, he thought.

"Especially you, Lestrade. You had nothing other than this job. No one was waiting for you at home, and one thing for sure, either you died or live.. certainly didn't bring any different."

He clearly remembered how relentless, nonchalant and ignorance at the way the detective said it, before staring at him and walked out from his office and slammed the door behind him.

Vividly remembered how he just stood there, staring at the door. Taken aback.. at those words of his.

He was not supposed to feel hurt.
Because everyone who knew Sherlock, should understand by now that he knew nothing about feelings.. about emotions. He was just could not. That was his nature.

But deep down, really really deep down, Greg Lestrade could feel his heart -- which was not that strong to begin with; was slowly tearing apart.. crushed into million pieces.

Because he liked to consider the great Sherlock Holmes as his friend, one of the closest, no less.

But when he said.. that..

.. and the way he said it..

Pain.

Liked a knife.. that been shoved, straight into his fragile heart.

Chapter Text

"I'm hungry."

Startled. He blinked before turning to his left, totally forgetting that he was not alone. Shaking his head, he denied her and told her that they would go straight to his home instead. "I know you already ate, kid. You ate your food and mine, remember?"

Looking at him, she slowly shaking her head.
"That was 2 hours ago, and it's called tea time." answered her like explaining something that was so obvious, "Now I want to have dinner."

Sighed. Because she was right. Annoying, but right. They should eat now.. and like on cue, his stomach gurgled. Hungry, realising that he was eating nothing since breakfast. "Alright. What do you want?"

Smiling, because she was absolutely ready with the answer, just patiently waiting for him to ask. "Can I have a burger, please?" she asked wthout hesitation.

Burger.

He rarely had it. Not that he didn't like it or hate it.

It just..
Since..

Stopped. Brushing it aside. This was not about him.

Slightly nodded, he turned on his indicator to the right. "You know what, let's get you a burger." and drove into the junction that have the red building with a big yellow M in front of it.

Grateful, happy face shrieked. "Thank you Mr Inspector!"

Feelings.

...

They sat in front of each other, silently eating their food.

"I never had this before in my life."

He heard she said after carefully putting her cheeseburger on the plate, in a tone that he could not figure out.. was she happy? Why she sounded so.. giddy?

Odd. Amused.

She lived with her father and a nanny. Surely the nanny would take her to get it if she wanted to, right? They were not that poor. He read that in her file. "Really? Don't you ever eat a burger before?"

Nodded, she slowly drank her frizzy drink. "I did. But not like this one. No. If I wanted a burger, Sarah would made one for me, from scratch. Everything. The bun, the patty, the sauce, everything!"

Nodded. Understood.

Of course. Homemade. It was healthier.

Povvo his arse.

He made a 'not bad' face.
"I bet it was way better than this? And way delicious?"
"It does! But this taste wonderful too!" small hand quickly took a handful of fries before shoving it into her mouth.

"Hey, slow down!" whispered him loudly, grabbing her hand.

Laughed.

...

He was looking outside, being conscious of their surroundings while waiting for the girl to finish her food; when he realised her pair of sparkling eyes staring at him. "What?"

Grinning. "You're a good man, Mr. Inspector."

Taken aback, he blinked and stared at her.
He was not going to lie, but it was still very hard for him to talk or to speak or.. or to even see kids especially in her age after--

Swallowing a lump, "I'm just doing my job." muttered him, hands absentmindedly cleaning up the mess.
"You're good with your job, then." she replied bluntly, while trying to help him wiping the sauce that scattered on the table (her fault).

They just met, literally. But the way she was being playful, yet still be polite, and grateful at the same time, really making a good impression to him.

Her father was very lucky to have her, he thought.

She kept looking at him, broad smiled all over her face.
She understood why she was stuck with him, and honestly, she had done nothing wrong.. and he just.. exasperated. Because those barmy Holmes left him no choice other than to accept this.. errand. But it did not mean that he had the right to be spiteful towards her.

Smiling.

"Ta. You're proper good too, love." He meant it. Sincerely.

Wide eyes stared at him. Her lips started to quiver. Baffled. His eyes looking around. "What is it? Did I said something wrong?"
Thinking, it must be it, wasn't it? Because he always knew how to ruin everything.

She just shaking her head. Tears slowly trickled down her cheeks.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Chapter Text

Ran.

She continued running, alone in the dark, as fast as her small legs could. Trying her hard to stay true to his order -- to not look back. She knew if she did that, she would stop and ran back to him. But he had done so much, had been through so much.. and had suffered so so much.. just to keep her safe.

So she kept running. Ignoring the tears that pooling inside her eyes, ignoring the legs that tired but still strong to keep going, ignoring the heart that pounding harder inside her chest, ignoring the frightening.. thumping.. screaming.. cursing.. sound that she could hear echoing through the night..

.. ignoring the feeling that this might be the last time she would see him.

She was scared too.

Scared of whether she could make it to the top of the hill, scared of what she could find there, scared of someone that might eventually caught her and sent her back to that scary place.. but most of all, she scared of him..

.. of losing him.

She knew he was in pain. She could see how hard he was struggling just to stand still, and.. and the way he held himself while running, kept holding every trees, because he was exhausted.. and how ashen white pale his face was.. because of his side..

He was losing blood.

But he was so.. optimistic, and so.. determined. Kept saying that everything would be all right, that she would be safe.

But she did not want only her to be saved. She wanted him too..

She remembered his busted lips just kept smiling, despite the broken nose, and the swollen black blue eye, and the bleeding head that already crusted along his jaw, with cuts could be seen over his ashen white bruised face -- he promised that he too would be safe.. and she held that firmly in her heart.

If anyone could save him, it was her.

Silently, she too promised to herself, that she did not want to let him down.

After all that they had been through..

.. and that was why she kept running.

Alone in the dark.

...

Relieved.

She let her breath out, didn't realise that she was holding it the whole time; when she saw a lot of vehicles that passing by along the road. That what they saw before -- those car lights that looked liked wave.

Now what?

Her messy mind thinking harder. Looking at both side of the road, she realised what she should do and started waving at every cars that passing her, with hope that at least one of the vehicles would stop.

"Don't forget."

His last word, before he turned his back to her, and stood there, swaying readily, bravely.. for the inevitable; making her absentmindedly wiping her tears.

"I won't, Greg. I promise."

.. and she kept waving.

Hoping for someone to stop.
So she could get help.

For him.

Chapter Text

He moved to sit beside her and looked at her sad face.

He knew she never met her mother -- she died after giving birth to her. He read that in her file.
He knew that her father was never remarried. He also knew that the father got her a live-in nanny to look after her while he was working and away.

But..

Her father never loved her.

That.. that he did not know. It was not in the file.

Her father just fulfilling his promise to her mother -- to look after her.. but he never loved her. No. If he could choose, he would rather chose his wife than her -- his own daughter.

The words that brought guilty in her heart.

And the reason why she burst into tears all of the sudden, because he called her 'love'.. and she felt it, in her heart, even they barely knew each other.

"I.. I sneaked into his office while he wasn't home.. and i read his journal." When he asked her of how she knew all of this thing. "I just.. I missed him, Mr. Inspector."

"Why didn't he love me?"

The question that sounded so simple yet so hard to answer.

Sighed. He didn't know how to react.. or what to do or.. or what to say. They just met, and even if he wanted to hold her or to sooth her, he still considered himself as a stranger.

At the end he just said, "I'm sorry, love."

Halted, his eyes widen, when suddenly she was throwing her arms around him. Surprised, he hesitated, before breathing in deep, and gently embraced her in his firm hands.

"It was never your fault."

...

They were already in the car where she just sat silently, staring out of the window.

He realised that their conversation about her father effecting her mood.

He needed to do something.

Purposely clearing his throat louder than he supposed to, he successfully made the girl turned and looked at him. "You know, if you want me to call you Finn, you can't call me Mr. Inspector." he said, making her squinted her eyes at him weirdly, blurred.

Smiling, "From now on, you can call me Greg."

Surprised, beam eyes stared at him. "Can I?"
"Of course you can, love." Chuckled.

Shocked. Cursed under his breath.

When suddenly he felt a small hands around his chest, making him swerved a little to the left.

"Ta, Greg."

Feelings.

...

He let her sleep in his room, while he slept on the couch, after making sure all the doors and windows locked securely.

Didn't care to change his clothes, he just straight lying down and easily drifting into the darkness.. before he heard her small voice at his feet.. promptly made him jerked awake.

"Greg.."
"Yeah, Sweetheart."

"I can't sleep."

But he could. He was bloody knackered. Long day.

Yet, he pulled himself together and sat up. Sighed, he absentmindedly scratching his disheveled silver hair. " 'ight, what do you have in mind?"

...

He didn't realise when he was dozing off, slightly snoring; when suddenly the girl shook his shoulder. "Greg! I think someone's here!" whispered her loudly, sounded frightened.

Abruptly opened his tired eyes, he looked around before focused on her, and listened carefully. There.. he heard something too. Liked someone tried to unlock his front door. His heart beating faster.

Without thinking, he grabbed the car key on the table, and hold her hand firmly.

They needed to go.. now.

Chapter Text

Sally Donovan.

His loyal assistant, that always there for him. Always protective of him. Always understood him, even without saying anything.

Firm and fierce, especially to those who gave him little or no respect.

Surprisingly, everyone knew who she was talking about.

...

She could see his irritated face from her desk. Everyday was a busy day, and today was no different.

If she knew that Freak would be coming today..

...

She saw him taking something inside his second drawer, and staring at it for a little while.. before talking to the girl who was coming with the Freak and his brother. His office door slightly opened, and both him and the girl were walking towards her.

She made eye contact with him.. and the thing that he held in his hand. He looked.. miserable.

She immediately stood up, when he and the girl came to her desk.
"Finn, this is Miss Donovan. Miss Donovan, this is Finn." short introduction from him, that made her looked at the girl and smiled, shaking the girl's hand.

He asked her to look after the girl just for a little bit, for him to sort things out with the Holmes. "Everything alright, sir?" she asked, after letting the girl sat on the chair in front of her. Paying no attention to her, he watched the girl and showed her the two levels bookshelf comprised of variety of books. The things that made her beamed and started searching for something to read.

This girl really reminded him of her.

His assistant just stared at him, knowing too well what inside his mind. Truth to be told, this past two years had not been really good to him.

This two bloody rough years.

Everything seemed like messing up. She could see the way he tried his best acting liked nothing happened, and pretending that everything was fine.

But she really knew that nothing didn't.

He just sighed, and shook his head. "Nothing that i couldn't handle myself." shrugged him, looking at the girl, before slowly and reluctantly giving his assistant the thing that he held dearly in his hand.

She took and examined it.
It was a transparent box consisted of one set of standard twelve colouring pencils, a complete set of pencil case, and a 100 pages of A5 size drawing book.. with a pink bow at one end -- brand new, faintly a layer of dust; before looking concernly at him. "Are you sure, sir?"

Shaking his head.
"No." Sighed, hand absentmindedly massaged his forehead. "But I know she'll be happy if someone used it rather than left untouched." Tilting his head, glancing at the girl who already oblivion with her surroundings.

"If you said so, sir."

Eyes still on the girl, he just nodded, and walked back into his office.

...

She could see the way they talked inside his office clearly from her desk. Despite not knowing what they were talking about, or what they were arguing about, she could guess that the Holmes were forcing him to do something against his will.

The Freak was really testing his patience.

He was frustrated.

He looked like trying his hard controlling himself from screaming at the detective's face. His brother, just stood there watching.. doing nothing.

...

She was discussing about some evidence with her colleague three desks away from hers when she saw the Freak burst out from his office.

The girl noticed it too. She looked up from her book to see him stopped and looking back at her.

Nodded.

...

She was serving the girl a plate of scones and a box of juice when the older Holmes walked out from his office. He too stopped and nodded to the girl.

She didn't care of what that meant. Her only concern was him -- her Boss. Turning her head, she could see him sat on his chair, eyes staring blankly into nothingness.

She knew what that meant.. and she was worried.

She just hoped he could take it..

As usual.

Chapter Text

"If this make you feel any better, I gave him a list of candidates to choose, and yet, he still.. pick you."

He heard the older Holmes said, behind him, after the other Holmes -- the younger; burst out from his office, slamming the door in front of him; making him froze.

Blinked.
Was this supposed to make him felt better?

For all that he knew, he was way older, way under qualified and way under prepared. If this was based on the standard of the Great Sherlock Holmes, clearly he was wayyy.. Wait--

Wrinkled eyebrows. Curious.
"Since when you listened to him? Aren't the both of you were.. archenemy?"

The older -- the secretive Mycroft Holmes who claimed to only had a minor position in government, which was totally bollocks; looking down, slowly tapping the end of his black umbrella onto the floor.

"We're facing the same enemy, Detective Inspector. If this what it takes to end this.. thing, by all mean, his idea, however ridiculous, no offence, will take into consideration.. and apparently, this idea which involving you, was the best idea that he could think of."

He just stood there, listening to him.
Eyes closed, he slowly shook his head. "You shouldn't listen to him. Right now, my head--" gestured to his disheveled hair, "It was even hard for me to--"

Lifting his head, he tried to control his sudden burst of emotion.
Distraction.

Looking outside, he could see the girl wrote something inside her new given book, oblivion with her surroundings.
She seemed like a smart girl. Really reminded him of--

Stopped.
He was promised to himself to stop thinking about--
But how could he, when everything--

Breath out.

"How're you doing, Greg?"

Blinked.
The question. It sounded.. concerned and personal.
Nonplussed, because he never thought in million years that Mycroft Holmes would ask about his.. wellbeing. Surely he could just deduct him like his brother, but instead.. he asked, like a normal human being.

Touched.

"I'm.. fine." turned to see him. "Life must goes on, innit?" faint smiled appeared on his tired face.

Lied. Easily caught by the older Holmes.
Nonetheless.. "My offer still open, Detective Inspector.. " the man with the black umbrella came closer, ".. and you know where to find me."

The offer that came since two years ago. He acknowledged it..
.. and really appreciated it.

Nodded.

The man nodded back, and started to walk out of his office, before stopped and turned to see him. "Be careful out there."

That words.

Chapter Text

There was a knock on his door.

Blinked, he turned to see his assistant standing at the doorway, looking concerned. "Are you alright, sir?"

The way she asked, confirming his assumption that she did watch him arguing with the brothers. Hence, the question.
Hesitant, he tried to deflect. "Yeah. I'm just.. tired." smiled, the kind that not reached the eyes.

She did not believe it, but shrugged it anyway.
Adjusting her stance, "What did they wanted you to do now?" crossing her arms. Didn't the older Holmes already had a lot of people to do stuff for them? Why in the world they dragged him too? Couldn't they just leave him alone?

Sighed, he just shook his head. "It's.. nothing." Grave eyes looking at her. "But there's something that I need to discuss with you. Later. Not, not now." He had to tell her, to share this matter with her, regardless the warning from the Holmes to tell no one. Because this was important. Necessary. The thought of being away, alone with the kid, for bloody how long even he didn't know, worried him.

She just stared at him. Understood.

He heard another knock.

Slightly craned his neck, he could see the girl standing behind his assistant, with all of her stuff; staring at him.

The girl clearing her throat, "We should start now." she said, carefully walking into his office, with hands full of her belonging, without invitation.

"Start what?" he asked curiously, looking at her and his assistant, completely blurred.

The girl rolled her eyes, irritated. "As I've been told, we will spend a lot of time together.. and I know nothing about you, aside the fact that Sherlock always helped you solving your cases, which for him were.. elementary." The words that made him sighed and shaking his head, and making his assistant changing her demeanour, looking vaguely.. mad. ".. and I believed him. I do." nodded her. "But.. I just want to know.. more." shrugged her. "With that, I have two questions."

Oh God, he sighed internally.

He noticed his assistant walking away, when her mobile phone suddenly ringing. Great.

"What?" Crossing his arms.

"Who's Madelyn? I saw her name on the box that Miss Donovan gave me."
His eyes went wide. Cursed himself for forgetting to take that out first before gave it to her. Tilting his head, "That's none of your business." replied him defensively.

"Fair enough. Second, where should I sit?"
He looked at her weirdly.. annoyingly. Because obviously there was more than one chair to sit on, "Anywhere but mine."

She nodded understandably. "Again, fair enough." Then she calmly proceeded dragging the chair in front of him and put it beside him, closer.. and continued putting her stuff on the table, and backpack on the floor, ignoring his glared.

"What're you doin'?" He asked when the girl started reading the book after finished stacking and arranging her things nicely, like nothing happened. Looking back at him, she wrinkled her eyes, "I'm taking care of myself."

"Wha--"
"I know you prefer for me to sit on the sofa, right there, away from you. I understand that. But I'm serious when I said that I took a great care of my health.. and sitting there.." filth eyes turned to see that said sofa, ".. was not really giving a good posture, especially for a very long time. Hence, here, right next to you." explained her, smiling.. smugly. "It's obvious."

Now it was him who was rolling his eyes. Sighed. "Fine. Whatever. But you better not interrupted me doing my work."

Nodded. "Fair enough."

...

Anthea came, just like Mycroft promised, with one black folder, while he was leaning against his front table, on the phone talking to one of his superior, about his leaving. Of course they already knew, it just for a formality sake.

With her eyes still on her mobile, as usual, she just put the folder on his table..

.. before putting down her mobile and having a little bit of chat with the girl. He just stood there, watching them -- because it was strange, and slightly peculiar, seeing her being compassionate towards others. He could see the way she rub her back gently, comforting her saying everything would be alright, and a small pecked on her head.. before continued texting in her mobile, and walked out from his office.

Still standing there, he watched the girl bow her head down and slowly wiping away her tears.

Feelings.

Eyes wandered around, feeling the need to do something, he saw his forgotten scones on the coffee table. Light bulb moment.
Careful, with the phone receiver squeezed between his ear and shoulder, he took the food, and served it to her.
The girl looked up, bewildered.

Glancing at her, he gestured 'eat' with his hand to his mouth.
Surprised. "For me?" asked her, low voice, didn't want to interrupt his call.

He just nodded.
"Ta muchly Mr. Inspector!" she whispered, big smile on her face, seemed like forgetting that she was upset a minute ago.

Her behaviour--

His heart.
Warm.

Chapter Text

Cautiously sneaking into his bedroom, with hand firmly held the girl's, he carefully walking near the window, tried to peer outside, down to the fire escape stairs. His idea right now was to climb down those stairs, went straight to his car, and drove as fast and as far as he could.

Slightly leaning with his back against the wall, he could see two men guarding on the ground.. they might be more than that, wandering around the corner.

Thinking, he tried to calculate his moves. Of course he could fight them. But being like this, straight from waking up, with head slightly dizzy, he needed more time to think. Furthermore, he had a kid to protect. That should be count too.

The girl who all of this while holding his hand, suddenly letting it go, took her backpack off, and started rummaging inside it. "I've got this!" whispered her loudly, showing him what in her hand -- the black truncheon which looked much bigger in her small hand.

His eyes went wide. Surprised. "Where do you get those? Who gave you??"

"Miss Donovan. She said I can use this to protect myself from bad people."
The name that made him shaking his head.

"They are bad people, aren't they? So I'm allowed to use this, right? To protect us." Sighed. That lady..

He would deal with that later. For the meantime..

"Alright. I've got an idea." Kneel down, he turned to fully looking at her. "But I want you to be brave, Finn. I can't do all of this by myself." He really meant of what he said. "I just want to be sure that I can really rely on you. Because after this, we only had each other." he said, staring hopefully into her eyes.

"Can you do that? Be brave for me?"

The girl looked at him. She knew he was worried, it written all over his tired face, silently making her determined to not let him down.

Smiling, she slowly nodded. "I am brave, Greg."
They needed to be quick, but he had to distract her from thinking deeply about this. She just a ten years old girl for god's sake.

"I know you are, Love." Smiled, rough hand gently rubbed her shoulder.
Her heart.. it felt warm, blooming.

"This is what we need to do."

...

They slowly climb up to the upstairs flat, and carefully entered the premise.

It was belong to his friend's younger brother -- Lewis, a cool laid back lad. Very relaxed, he even never locked his window.. and Lestrade knew about this.

Going inside, he could see no one was home. He reminded himself to send Lewis a message. But not now..
Walking fast, they went out from the flat, with eyes kept alert, they looked around before running straight to the back stairs.

He was so glad that his flat only two levels up from the ground, but still made him out of breath.

"You need to work out more, mate." the girl said grinning, after they safely getting inside the car.
Rolling his eyes, because he still catching his breath; he just started the engine and drove out without being noticed.

Chapter Text

He digged inside his jacket pocket. Eyes still on the road, he punched the number one on his keypad knowingly, and made it loudspeaker.

Ringing.

"Greg?"
He heard the girl said his name. "Yeah." answered him short, still adjusting his eyes between the dark night and the glare from the headlights.

Still ringing.

"I think the car behind is following us." told her, worried in her voice, while staring at the side mirror.

Looking up to see the back mirror, he focused on the car behind. She was right. He counted, at least two cars were following them.. and they seemed to speed up.

Still ringin-- "Hello, you reached Sherl--"

"It's them Sherlock! They'd found us! They chased us now!" he looked alternately between front and back mirror. "Fasten your seatbelt kid!" he yelled, before floored it. Cursed word, when he accidentally crossing the road line and promptly made the opposite car honked angrily at him.

He was speeding as careful as he could (he tried), while hurriedly telling Sherlock of where they were at right now.

"They, they came to my flat. Reckon it more than four men." Eyes kept looking between front, back mirror and at the clock, "We escaped. But now they found us. They're getting closer, Sherlock! Take your bag Finn!" He couldn't focus on talking, his mind was struggling hard thinking of what he should do. But he could hear the girl said something to the mobile too, he just couldn't catch what it was.

They were nearing a sharp turn.

"Find us, yeah?! Find--"
"GREG!!"

...

Ringing. Buzzing.

Opened up his eyes, he blinked, tried to clear his blurry vision.

He was in the car.. but upside down? Why? Confused. Staring outside, he could see smoke coming out from the front car, badly dented bonnet. How--

Turning to his left, he saw the girl who sat still, with eyes closed. What happened? Who--

Liked a broken dam that rush through his head, he suddenly remembered all of things that happened that lead to this occurance.

Realisation.
Needed to get out, fast.

They might be closer.

Hastily unfastened his seat belt, he clumsily falling to the ground, making him hissed in pain.

Without thinking, he started kicking his window until it broke into million pieces.

The girl stirred.

"Finn? Hey, wake up, kid!" slightly shook her shoulder.
She opened her eyes, and wandering around before stopped and looked at him. "Greg?"

Relieved.

"What happened?"
His hands rushingly unfastened her seat belt and caught her before she hit the ground. "Accident." he replied, eyes examining her for injuries. "Are you hurt, sweetheart?"

Still shocked, she just shook her head.

He dismissed his own question when noticing that she still puzzled. "It's alright. We'll check again later, yeah?"

Taking her backpack, he threw it out of the window, before awkwardly crawled on four, his legs went out first, with the girl in his hands.

Getting out, he winced when he couldn't take a deep breath. His chest.. something definitely was off. But he ignored it, and stood up before abruptly feeling sick, and fell back to the ground. His head.. feeling like splitting into two.

Please, not a concussion.

Paid no attention to his cold hands that started to shake, he touched his forehead when he felt something trickling down his eyebrow.

"Greg?"
Shrugged. Now was not the time to feel sick.. or, or to be worried about his pain. No. Groaned, when he tried to suppress his.. discomfort. "I'm, I'm alright. Can you.. walk?"

"I think so." answered her, after checking herself, and her backpack, and relieved when all of her things were still there.
"Good. Come on." he said, grabbing her hands and started running into the woods. Really hoped that they would be safe somewhere before the adrenaline waning away.

Stopped.

Halted.

Eyes looked around, he tried to stay calmed.. despite his heart that beating faster.. with little hand that he gripped firmly inside his.

"Greg?"
"Get behind me." blurted him, slowly pushing the girl behind.. when they saw five men in black jacket came closer..

.. and stood threateningly, staring at them.

Chapter Text

He walked in circle facing the men, while kept the girl behind, protectively.. ignoring the splitting head and the dull throb on his chest and the blood that kept trickling from his forehead.

The girl must came first.

"Give us that girl, please." said the man.. politely -- the man that he assumed was the leader of the pack.

"No." he replied firmly, eyes cautiously kept looking around. He promised to himself that he would never give up without a fight.

Never.

One of the men walked closer towards him. "There's always two ways to do this, mate." that man said, smiling evilly, holding up his hands, giving options. "The easy way, or the hard way." he continued, showing the gun that nestled in his belt.

Blinked. He suddenly realised that he forgot to grab his gun while running out from his house. Cursed his foggy mind. Yet, he just stood there, unmoved.

"Come on now. We've been polite 'ere." said the leader, putting his hand out, holding his man on his place, prevented him from taking out the gun.

He had to admit that man did look like a nice guy. But still..

"Polite.. my arse." sneered him, right hand squeezed firmly the girl's hand. He was determined, despite only knew her just that morning, he was ready, ready to do anything for her.

She deserved better.

The girl just followed him, slightly peeked those men from behind.

"Stop faffing around Boss. Just crack it on then!" the man with the gun said, felt annoyed.

Aware of the situation that began to escalate dangerously, he peered at the girl, hoping for understanding..
.. and her -- that smart ten year old girl that he just knew; obviously could read his mind; looked back at him, and nodded.

Slowly letting her hand go, he winced when he felt a sudden pain while shifted his legs, to a fighting stance. Relieved, when it went unnoticed by her.

Without waiting for the approval, the man with the gun pushed his Boss's hand and ran towards the Inspector..

.. and everything seemed like in slow motion.
The man shouted angrily, and everyone too running at him.

Hell-bent.
He was ready.

So bloody ready.

...

Stirred. He didn't realise he was dozing off.

He remembered clearly that he was sitting on the sofa, near the girl at the living room, while she drew and coloured, while telling him a funny story about her and her nanny -- Sarah; and he who was really sleepy, just nodded, pretending to listen.

But he was supposed to be awake. Because she already woke him up, hurriedly and worriedly, because someone was at the door, trying to break in.

Broke in.
To get the girl.

The words that made him jerked awake. Opening his eyes, he squinted immediately when the light was suddenly shining bright into his eyes.

His head.. feeling like it could split into two. Everywhere was hurt. His chest.. it felt like it had been press onto one massive boulder.

What the actual happened?
What had bloody happened?

His heart pounding even harder when he realised he could not move his hands -- they were tied behind his back. Something was wrong. He needed to be with the girl. To keep her--
Wait--

Where was he, again?
The girl. Where was the girl.. Where--

"Hiya."

The friendly voice that promptly made him looked up and breathing heavily.

Chapter Text

Ringing.

He heard that. But he chose to ignore it, and kept doing his research in the laptop.

It was two o'clock in the morning. Sure it could wait, he thought.
Besides, if anyone knew him, by now, they should clearly knew his preference -- always text over phone calls.

"Don't you want to pick that up?" asked John, who exited from the bathroom, getting ready for sleep. They just arrived home after meeting with the Homeless Network, asking around about the cartel.

"Nope." he just kept typing, didn't even care to look at his flatmate.

The doctor glanced at the mobile before looked back at him. "It might be important, Sherlock."

Paid no attention, he just doing his work.

Sighed, John shook his head and reached to the mobile, ready to pick it up.
The ringing finally stopped, and went straight to the voicemail.. and Sherlock being Sherlock, he kept doing of what he was doing.

The doctor stared weirdly at him.

He, on the other hand, was deadly curious of who was the caller, since the name didn't appear on the screen. "Don't you want to hear the voicemail?"

"If you want to, John." the detective replied annoyingly, still didn't bother to lift his head from the monitor to look at him.

Rolling his eyes, the doctor took the mobile and pressed the voicemail icon.

'It's them Sherlock!'

That voice.

That hurried and worried (and scared) voice that they recognised so bloody well that made the doctor's heart dropped.. and made the great detective paused in his work.

They looked at mobile's screen, anxiously listening to everything that they could hear -- the talked, the screamed.. the hope.

His hope.

'Find us, yeah?!'

Before they heard the loud crash and.. everything went dead silent.

The flat went dead silent.

Both men just looked at each other.

The doctor found his voice first.
"How-- Didn't your brother--"

Standing up, the detective rushingly grabbed his mobile, before wearing his coat.

If he just pick his bloody mobile up..

Chapter Text

Calling his brother.

Ringing--

"They were in the car crash, Mycroft!" said him while running down the stairs. "Those men following them.. to his flat!"

.. and he disconnected. Left it hanging.. before hurriedly get in the taxi after his flatmate.

...

"You said they will be safe!" yelled the detective as soon as he dashing into his brother's office, followed by the doctor; ignoring pairs of confused eyes that were gazing at them -- his brother's minions' eyes.

His brother who was staring at the map on the computer, lifting his head, and glaring at him. Sighed.

"As usual, you misinterpreted everything I'd said, my brother mine." paused, looking at both men. "We watched them.. from afar, since they left the Scotland Yard. We knew where they went, what they did.. and we will help them at once.. when the time is right." explained him, defensively.

"And how exactly are you helping them now?" that was the doctor asking, curiously, seeing his flatmate already pushing himself around, looking at the pile of papers and data that scattered on the big mahogany table.

"We are tracking them as we speak.. and we will get the update ASAP." the government representative said, slightly turned, staring at the monitor.. before sharing a look with one of his employees.

Sherlock who was reading some data on the paper, abruptly looking up, glaring at him, and noticed something on his face.

His eyes..
His stance was somehow looking.. off too.

"There's something you didn't tell me. What is it?"
His big brother stood silently, staring at him. Confirming his suspicion that something indeed was wrong.

"What is it, Mycroft?" asked the detective through gritted teeth.

"The trackers.."
"What about it?" the doctor asked, genuinely confused.
"Don't tell me you lost them. Don't.tell.me!"

Liftting his head up, he glared at both men in front of him.
"We lost his mobile signal. Same as his car."

The crash, as might be expected. But that just meant nothing, wasn't it? That shouldn't mean that they--

No. Too soon.

Too soon.

"How 'bout the girl? Finn? Surely you put some sort of device in her.. bag? Possessions?" asked the doctor again, trying to stay calm and being rational.
"Of course, we did."

The answer that brought relieved to him.. just for a little while.

"So we can track them both, right?"
"Not.. entirely." replied Mycroft, glancing at his baby brother.

"What do you mean?" the doctor asked, alternate looking at both brothers. Confused. He knew he didn't have the mind like Holmes, he didn't shy to voice it out. He just couldn't care less. There were lifes at stake.
"He meant if they got separated, he can only at least track the girl and not him." spatted the detective, knowingly.

Walking closer, he stared at his big brother annoyingly.. menacingly. "You are a moron."
"Sherlock.." said John warned him to stop talking.
Now was not the time nor the place to make a scene.

"You dragged him into this.. thing. You put him in danger. He never wanted to do this at the first place--"
"You are the one who forced him, Sherlock. Don't you dare forget about that." Mycroft said threateningly, stating the fact.

The detective looking down, realising the truth behind it. Instant regret. "I should never trust you with anything."

Silent. Because Mycroft knew this would never happened if he against his brother's idea. His problem should never involved outsiders.

But it was too late now.
"He know what he was get into."

"Did he?" blurted him, with eyes that kept staring at his big brother.

Sherlock Holmes always thought that everyone was replaceable, everyone was not important and ordinary.. and boring, the Inspector included. He should not be worried, because he knew he would eventually find him.

But now he was not so sure.

Turned around, he just walked out the door. The doctor who walked with him stopped and looked at the man in the suit. "We will help, with our own way. I'll contact you if we find anything. And I hope you will do the same?"

Nodded. "We'll be in touch."

"Good."

...

Talking to his brother made him think. Was the Inspector really ready for this? Willingly? After all he'd been through? Was he wrong to put him in such danger, even that the man was still in this healing--

Wait. He should not think about this. This.. thought should never get its space inside his precious private limited mind palace.

But somehow.. it got inside it, again.

Because somehow, he felt he was responsible for everything that happened to him.

"Are you okay?" asked the doctor, seeing his friend sat silently staring outside the taxi's window. "Of course. What would I'm not be?" he replied, eyes still maintained looking outside.

John just nodded understandably, despite knowing the denial in his voice.

They needed to be profesional, and put their emotions in the drawer. Because they had to go somewhere -- to check out the soon to be crime scene.

To check out the flat.

The Greg Lestrade's flat.

Chapter Text

They met two men in suits waiting at the door (still wearing suit nicely at this ungodly hour) that already broken -- sign of force entry. It seemed that someone was trying hard to get into the house.

The detective went straight to the bedroom, while the doctor looking around, walking into the living room. Despite the broken door, everything seemed fine, like nothing happened. Everything seemed normal.. liked nothing horrible had been attempted there.

Looking at the coffee table, he took something on it -- a beautiful picture with a slight smudge around it. Maybe it was drawn by the girl -- Finn, he thought. He stared at it, and put it back on the table.

He walked past the living room into the kitchen. It looked.. dull, and empty. The stove was barely used. The only things that he surely knew that always been used daily was the coffee maker.

Pulling the drawers one by one, he stopped when he saw a foreign stuff that was not supposed to be put in there.

A frame.

A happy family picture frame.

He closed the drawer. Somehow feeling like he was invading someone privacy.

Looking up, he saw things that caught his eyes, at the bottom shelf. There were two mugs. 'Daddy of the Year.' was written on the pink one; and another mug, the white and turquoise colour, with a writing, 'The Best Husband in the World.'. He realised both mugs left untouched when he saw a thin layer of dust around it.

Sighed. Because he knew the feeling. The feeling of losing everything.

Everything changed. Everything felt.. different.

The world who was filled with happiness before, now felt empty. The world of when someone couldn't wait to come home because they were people waiting for him but now--

The Inspector had changed.

Everyone noticed that. He was not really himself nowadays. Since this past years, he became less talked, always working, and rarely had time for himself.

And those mugs.. he knew how much Greg loved those mugs. John remembered seeing the pink one back in his office before. He was proud to use it, didn't care about the colour. It was his.

A birthday present.

But now.. it just left there.. collecting dusts.

'Poor, Greg.' he thought, slightly shaking his head. He had a great and completed life before, and just liked that.. it was gone. He could only guess that the Inspector just left it there because he was still taking his time, adjusting his life without them. It was challenging. He missed them. How could he cope the life without--

Wide eyes. Understood.
Suddenly everything became clearer, like a bright warming hot sun shining inside the doctor's mind.

That bastard.

That arrogant bastard.

If he knew this sooner, if he knew--

Walking faster, he went straight into the bedroom. "Ahhh, right on time, John." the detective said seeing him entering the room. "Come on, we have some exploration to do." he added smirking excitedly, already opened the window, looking up.

"I know why you chose him." he said, fixing him with an unwavering stare.

"What?" asked Sherlock, sounded annoying, seeing his flatmate still unmoved.

"I read the file that your brother sent." said the doctor, ignoring his question. "The file that had a list of candidates for this.. mission." he added, looking down and walking closer.
The man with the black curl hair just stood there, now understood the reason behind the sudden changed of his stern behaviour. "All of them was so.. overqualified. Their skills, their capabilities, their reputation.. incomparable, outstanding, second to none. Some of them even over achievers. Ambitious." he blinked and stared at him.
"They would be so bloody competent for this kind of job. Seeing how much it will gain them experience. They were ready for this. They were trained for this kind of thing." his eyes kept staring at him. "And yet.. yet, you chose him. Of all the candidates.. you chose him. His name was not even on the list, Sherlock!" said him slightly yelling, before turned to his right, thinking. "It can't be because of his skills, can't he? Because you'd said his skills was laughable, pathetic. Or because he is smart?" laughed, shaking his head. "No. No. That's.. no. That was never the reason."

He looked up and turned to give his friend a deathly stare. "You chose him because of what happened to him two years ago, innit?"

His flatmate just stood there silently, like admitting all of the accusation. Of course he knew what happened to the Inspector two years ago. Everyone knew.

So what? Everyone died. Eventually.

There was time that he wanted to delete those.. useless, meaningless event, but it kept coming inside his Mind Palace.

Now he was grateful that he didn't delete it. Because now he had things to do.. to save him from boredom.

The doctor kept shaking his head. Unbelievable. "You make this as experiment. You chose him was part of your experiment, didn't you?" this time, he was very much enunciated the word 'chose'.

Well, since it was already out there, then it was useless not to admit it. "I don't see anything wrong with that." the detective said bluntly.

Hearing his words, he could feel his heart beating faster, his face became warmer. "You don't see--" flaring nose kept staring at the man in front of him.

"He's still grieving, Sherlock! He still in pain!" said him slightly feeling regret for not being there when they barked the poor Inspector the order.
The detective tilted his head, with eyes that never left him. "It almost two years and a half now, surely he past that feelings. For I am, two months will be more than enough for that kind of emotion."

The doctor just shook his head while trying to control his breathing. He was angry. Angry with his smart but sometimes (always) idiot friend, who thought nothing that he did was wrong. "He's not you! No one's like you!"

"He's stupid. He should just toughen up. It happened a long time ago. He just need to move on."
"He lost his family, Sherlock! Do you think it was easy for him to forget about them? Why-- How--"

"He looked fine to me."
"Of course he looked fine to you! He 'pretend' to look fine, because he didn't want people to feel pity for him."

"I don't pity him. That's why I gave him this job."

The doctor slowly breathing out. Hand absentmindedly pinched his nose bridge. "No wonder he agreed to do this. Talking to you, he-- we, the boring ordinary people, will never win."
Sherlock squinted his eyes, blurred. "You forced him, Sherlock! I was not there with you, oh, how I wish I was there now, but I reckon you give him no choice. You shut his opinion. Because no opinion matter to you. Even it cost someone's life."

"Don't you ever felt sorry for him, Sherlock? Did all the things that he done for you all this time, mean nothing to you?"
He didn't know how the Inspector could put up with his friend's wild and random attitudes.

Slient.

The doctor walked near the window and looked around, before looking back at him. "I think I've got the idea of the title of this little experiment." smiled, "Is a grieving copper will take care of any kids as his own after he lost his untimely? Or.. or, hear me out on this one; will he take care of this kid as his own, when they were in danger and will him give his life so that this kid that clearly unrelated to him will survive?" the smiled slowly turned into slightly angry sad face. "How's that for your title?"

"You're thinking too much, John. He always put others first despite everything that happened to him. It's his job."
"So did all of them, the candidates! They all willingly risk their life, they're technically signed their death certificate for this kind of job. But why didn't you chose them?" he looked at him, smiling that not reached the eyes.
"Because they don't know the feeling of losing everything like Lestrade. That's why!"

The detective just stood there.

Most of the time, he never thinking twice about anything. He knew he did the right thing, but those points were really making sense.

Not that he did not think about it before. He considered it. He even contemplated it.. thoroughly. It just.. it sounded different when he hear it out loud, and from someone other than himself.

"Just so you know, Sherlock, if he died, your hands, your both hands, will be all over it." he said, before sniffed and adjusting his stance. Enough. Just let it sank inside his brain.. into his Mind Palace.

He realised he was talking too much. But it felt needed.

Back to work.

"So which way now, up or down?"

Chapter Text

He was spitting blood. He could feel nothing, smell nothing other than copper.

His headache intensified.. and he could see everything twinning.

His ears buzzing. He knew the man in front of him was screaming madly about something, but it sounded so far away.

He couldn't lift his head, and just let his chin touched his battered chest. He was exhausted, didn't care of the crimson stained all over him.

They took turn hitting him.

Most of them beat him bare knuckle, aiming at his face, until it became numb. He noticed, there was one in particular that really keen striking his middle with a metal pipe, whenever chance he got; leaving him gasping for air. He swore he heard a crack sound.

The boss, who was there, just watching. Sometimes he walked around, but most of the times he just stood still and watched.

He should fight back, he had to fight back, but his hands were strained, and he couldn't think straight and breathing--

Struggling.
Suffering.

If they just gave him a minute to rest..

...

"Just-- You can do.. a--anything to me. But please.. leave the girl.. alone."

He was heaving, bleeding badly, yet, he plead, begging for them to spare the girl's life. After awhile, he noticed the leader of the pack -- the boss; was the one who seemed a bit calm and sensible.

He named him.. Billy.

He didn't know why. It just.. that name instantly appeared in his head.

"You need no worries about that. I promise, your lassie will be safe." said Billy, sitting across of him yet further away.

He just began to feel relieved with the assurance, when suddenly he heard someone's laugh near him, and before he realised it, something hard hit his face, almost knocked him out to the ground.

"Fool you, mate!" laughed one of the men, watching him lolled his head, wheezing painfully. He knew his jaw started to bleed again.

His battered chest rapidly moving up and down.

That blow was not unexpected, he knew the possibility, but still..

Air.
Needed.. air.

"Jimmy.."

He heard Billy said the name.. in a warning tone.

"You're joking, right Guv?"

Billy just stared at the spoken man deathly, still sitting down.

"Come on 'ere, Guv! We'ren't the government! We followed no rules! Your bruv--"

He stopped talking and involuntarily took a step back when Billy suddenly smacked the table, making everyone flinched.. including the Inspector who was clearly struggling to stay awake.

"Look around you, laddie! Do you see him 'ere?!"
The spoken man just staring at him nonchalantly.

"If you want to end up like him, I dare you to keep that attitude!" warned Billy, causing the spoken man -- Jimmy; giving him a filthy look before storming out of the room.

Billy just let him go.

His eyes now focused on him - their barely concius captive.
He remembered when they (forcefully) asking him of who he was or why he was with her or how he knew about her, and him, just sealed his mouth shut; willingly taking every hit and every punch, despite the fact that he'd just been in the accident with injuries, he kept pleading him to not hurt the girl. Selflessly didn't really care about himself.

"Take him." ordered Billy to his men before standing up and walked out of the room.

He had to pay a girl a visit.

Chapter Text

Marcus and Julia were driving home after having their movie night together, like any couple did during their off day. They talked with each other, sometimes laughed when they randomly quote the funny lines from the movie..

.. before stopped abruptly when seeing a girl with a messy ponytail, out of nowhere, standing and waving her hands frantically, in the middle of the road.

...

He was driving as fast as he could, while Julia sat at the back with the girl, trying to comfort her. They were going straight to the nearest police station, because that was what the girl wanted.

But not before the girl borrowed her mobile phone and called someone with the named of Miss Donovan.. and repeatedly telling that person to promise, to make sure met her there.

They knew the girl's name was Finn -- she heard that while listening to her talking on the mobile; and that was the only thing that she knew. Julia did ask her why she was there or how she ended up there, but all that she got was silent.

She looked at the girl worriedly when her eyes caught a dried crimson smudged on her dirty clothes, around her back and shoulder.

"Are you hurt, Finn?" She asked her gently, didn't want to freak her out. If the girl did hurt, they had to change the plan and should go to the hospital immediately.

The girl slightly shaking her head. "No. This is not.. mine. It's Greg's. He's.. urmmm he's my friend, and.. and he's hurt." muttered her looking at her dirty hands, remembering those wounded swollen cold hands trying his hard holding hers.
"I need to safe him."

Her voice was so slow, Marcus almost did not catch it.

Peeking through the back mirror, he shared one concern looked with his partner.

...

The girl said her appreciation to the pair for willingly helping her.. and as soon as they arrived at the police station, she ran straight towards the counter.

The couple stayed around anyway, just in case the police wanted to ask them more about the girl.

...

"Finn!"

Perked up, she instantly turned, when hearing someone calling her name.. and hurriedly jumped from her chair when she realised who it was.

"Miss Donovan!" she screamed before hugged her tightly in her small arms.

She was safe now.

Relieved tears slowly trickling down her cheek.

She was safe.
She didn't believe it.

Safe.
Finally.

Letting go of her hand she then wiped her tears, and looked at the woman who kneeled down in front of her. "He made me remember your number." The girl muttered slowly, knowingly, before the woman had a chance to ask.

Donovan who was known for her firmness and cold heartedness, could feel something mixing inside her heart. Of course she was happy and grateful, when they finally got the call from the girl, who still in one piece, but on the same time, she was worried about her Boss.

She could tell that the situation was getting worse. Her Boss was getting worse. Yet, she tried to play it cool, "That's.. that's good."

"We need to safe him, Miss Donovan! He hurts really bad!" added the girl, rushed in her tones. They could wait no more. She promised him help, and that was what he would get.

The woman just nodded, before examining her from hair to her feet. "Are you hurt, Finn?" she noticed the red smudged around her back, and she really hoped that not belong to her.. or him. The girl just shaking her head, completely ignored her worried eyes, "Come on Miss Donovan! Let's safe him now!"

"I know. But we need to wait for someone."
"Who?"

"Finn!" As on cue, she heard running footsteps burst into the police station, screaming her name, making her looked up, and sad eyes went wide.

It was them. Two men who cared.

"John!"

She ran and seeing him already kneeled down, she straight going into his arms. Her slightly dried eyes, started to wet again.

"How're you, Sweety?" the question that made her completely slumped in his firm arms. His words really reminded her of him.
"You are doing great, Sweetheart." encouraged him, when hearing her sob on his shoulder.

"Please safe him, John."
John, who's hand kept rubbing her back, peering at her before sharing a look with his flatmate who was standing nearby.
"Of course we'll safe him." assured him, smiling. "He's our friend too, right Sherlock?"

She heard a footstep came closer, and a gentle hand on her shoulder that made her looked up.

"We will safe him, Finn. We promised."

Chapter Text

She was discussing with her colleagues about their recent case, inside the briefing room; when she saw her Inspector walking towards her table. Seeing that, she immediately saying her excuse, and exited the room.

She could see he brought something with him. A small blue bag with a dinasour picture on its side.

"Am I interrupting something?" asked him looking past her, at the briefing room.
She shook her head. "Nuh. Nothing important."

Standing behind her table, she looked at him before glancing at the small bag on her table. "What is this?"

"Open it."

Looking weirdly at him, she carefully unzipped the bag and examining the content. "What is this, sir?" she repeated after seeing what inside, clearly bewildered of why he showed her that.

Gave her that.

Taking it out, she put it on the table.
It was two pair of clothes -- girl's to be exact. The pink one with a picture of dinasours, the other one -- light blue; had a picture of a robot.

She stared at him, question's face.

Her Inspector all this while, just looking at her taking out the stuff, before grasped the one with the robot picture.
"I bought this when she was seven. I was in a hurry, just grabbed these both, without checking the tags." smiled. "Liz was furious." chuckled. She could see he was lost in his thoughts. "She said, 'You only had one job, Greg!' I said, 'Don't worry, she'll wear it when she's that age.' Which then she said, 'I don't reckon she still like dinasour when she's eleven!'"

Putting down the shirt, his smiled slowly faded away.
"Guess we never know that, aren't we?"

She just looked at him. At his vulnerability.
She didn't know how to respond.. or how to react.

That information.

For her, it was personal. It was his memory.. of them.

She didn't know what to do with it.

She could see in his eyes, while telling the story. Recalling every moments. The way he hold the shirt firmly.. fondly in his hand, and the way he told it..

He missed them.
Painfully.

He scarcely shared his life with his team. Professional. That what he kept reminded them.. and she totally agreed.

But seeing him now, slightly being opened with her about his life..

This must be something going on here.
Something that was not.. good.

Eyes fluttered, "Why you give it to me, then?" asked her, honest curiosity.

Lifting his head, he put both hands inside his pockets. "I want you to put it in your car. For emergency."

Frowning. What was he talking about?
"Emergency? I don't.. understand."

Sighed, "It's for her." he answered, eyes turned to his office. They both didn't see the person, but they definitely knew who was the person they were talking about.

"What do you mean?" her eyes became wider.

Wait.
Hold on.

She thought she understood now..

Crossing her arms. "What's really those mentals force you to do, Boss?"

...

"This.. is madness."

He heard she said, shaking her head.. after he told her everything -- about the Holmes, and the girl. The things that he was not suppose to discuss with anybody -- confidential; but he had to.
He trusted her.

He already knew her reaction would be this way. He knew she would be mad.

She didn't understand.
She would never understand.

And it was reasonable.
Acceptable.

He did not blame her.

"Why-- " She halted. "You know this is dangerous, right?"

Silent.

"..and.. and you still agreed to do it? That's it?" She kept looking at him, watching the calmness, the readiness to.. to do all of this.. thing. "You just met her sir, and now you're talking about taking bullets for her? to protect her?"

Silent.

"Why?"

She had a lot of questions. She didn't even know where to begin.

She knew him.
He practically saw her growth, from only being a constable, until now. They spent almost all their working time together. He was courageous, always set his boundaries, always telling the truth (it's not our division).

Yet, the way he behaved--
He should--

"They need my help." he replied, low voice.

Hearing his answer started to make her furious again.
Weren't the older Holmes had a lot of employees?

"We are talking about cartel here, sir! Clearly you know what are you dealing with right now, aren't you? Of what they capable of? They can easily vanish people whoever they want!"

Silent.

"Sir. Please.."

She wanted to yell at him, to knock his head off, for him to.. to be just a little bit.. sensible. She knew her Boss, he was not the one who made reckless decision.

"I beg you, sir, please.. please thinking about yourself."

Ignoring her words, his hand slowly touched the shirt on the table. "Did you know she already lost her mother?"

Shocked. Speechless.

"I.. I did not know that." admitted her, shaking her head.

"It just her and her father. He hired a nanny to take care of her while he was away. And now.. I just.."

Sighed. "I just don't want to see another man lose his only family."

'another man'

She heard his words.. his confession.. and suddenly everything became clearer.

"It had been more than two years now, but still.. the pain. It's.. it's indescribable. It felt like half of you gone and.. and leaving you with a massive hole inside of your heart." he said, hand mindlessly tracing the picture on the pink shirt. "You worked bloody hard, trying not to think about it, but still.."

Breathing in, he lifted his head and looked at her. "I just don't want another father to experience that feelings, Donovan. If I can help, whatever it may, I will."

She had question.
She could guess the answer, but somehow felt terrified if she was right.

For once she didn't want to be right.

"Even if it costs your life?"

Watery eyes looking up to see her. "Even if it costs my life."

Chapter Text

He looked at her.

She seemed.. agitated. Never letting go of her backpack. Hugging it tightly.

He already checked her.. condition. Aside from the small bruise on her cheek, and tiny cuts all over her hands that she got while climbing up the hill, she was alright, healthy, despite losing a bit of weight. She also showed him the bump that almost healed on her shoulder around her left pectoral that she got from the accident.

Other than that, she was fine.

But her jacket..

He didn't dare to ask of where that was came from. Because he frighteningly knew the answer.

He just didn't want her to confirm it.

Really got him thinking of how much the Inspector cared about her.

He saw his flatmate walking and sat down next to her.

Making him remembered the time when they questioned (carefully interrogated) her less than an hour ago, that made him fascinated and really admired her.

Bear in mind that she just a ten year old girl.

'You knew more than you letting us on, didn't you, Finn?' that his friend asking the girl.. which the answer really shocked the adults in the room, including him and Donovan and the man in suit that represent the older Holmes who apparently was outside the country.
'What do you mean?' that was him asking back, bewildered, as usual.
And then everything clicked when his flatmate told about the things that she said in the car before the accident, in the voicemail.

Apparently she already knew about all of this thing involving her father.

Not because of her father told her; obviously this was secret and confidential. It just.. she liked to look around randomly searching for something.. details. And she accidentally knew about this while playing inside her father strictly-forbidden-for-her office.
That was why she knew who was following them -- based on the cars.. and the style of the clothes and.. and other things that matched with the knowledge that she knew.

'Greg thought I just confused and shaken, and making things up of something 'maybe'. But I was not. I know.'

He remembered shaking his head in amazement.

When his flatmate was praising her as one smart girl..

.. he was not wrong.

...

Billy.

The name that she claimed was in charged, the leader of the group.. but instantly denied it when she remembered that that was not his real name. 'Greg gave that name.'

Somehow, hearing that, making the Detective tilted his head, liked he obviously knew the reason why the Inspector choose that name. And now he could assume something connected inside his flatmate's infamous Mind Palace.

He could see it from his weird looking face.

She said Billy really took good care of her. Never hurt her. Always let her did her own activities.

'Did Greg know about this?' he remembered asking her.
She just moved her shoulders upside down. 'I don't know.'

Based from her explanation, he could assume what kind of person this Billy was.

...

He realised the girl was alone now, seeing his friend got up and walked away, picking up his ringing mobile.

Walking closer, he looked down to see her face. "Can I sit here with you?" said him, asking for permission.
Without looking up, she slowly nodded.
"You alright, kid?" his smiled eyes looking at her and her backpack.

Still kept her eyes down, she breathed out. "I just want to save Greg." replied her, "We're just wasting our time here doing nothing."

He smiled and nodded. Looked around, he slowly leaning to her, "I agree with you, Finn. We indeed should do something about this." muttered him, in lower voice like sharing one secret information. "But they already sent someone there to check the place, and as soon as we know it safe, we'll go there too. It just a procedure. That's all."

She just looking down, pretending not to hear his obviously true statement.

"I see that you already changed your clothes." he said, tried to change the subject.
If he being honest, he did not really remember the colour of her before clothes. What made him remembered was the crimson red and brown dirt that covered up most of the surface, that still sending him shiver whenever he thought about it.
"Miss Donovan made me." replied her unenthusiastically. Because she thought this completely a waste of time -- he remembered she said that.

Despite the new jacket, he could see a big smiling robot on her shirt that peeking from behind the backpack.
"That colour suits you." complimented him.
Looking up, a small smile showed on her face. "Right?"

Now, that was the smile that he was looking for.
"Very impressive, Miss Donovan."
His random praise promptly made the girl snickered.. lifting up a heavy feelings that she had.

He just curious for this particular thing though..

"You really love your bag, aren't you Finn?"
The question that made her paused, and hugged her backpack even more. "You have no idea, John." she muttered, before mindlessly resting her head on top of it, and stared at the curly woman who was standing, hand on her hip, discussing something with her officers.

Hearing her answer, he understood that he was not yet granted the permission to see what inside her backpack. "It's okay, Sweetheart." said him, holding her shoulder and slowly pulling her towards his side, calmly rubbing her arm.

"I'm scared, John." small voice confessed, making him closed his eyes and lifted his head.
Of course she was scared. She was gone MIA for almost two weeks and alone and--

Poor girl.
He didn't want to think about it.

But she was so bloody brave too.. and strong.
That was what brought her here. To safe.

Her strong willingness.

"You know what, you absolutely have rights to feel that way. After all you'd been through, alone, it was a right feelings to feel." admitted him, with hands slightly pulled her away to see her face. "But that doesn't mean you're not brave, Finn." he shook his head. "Because you are. Your fearless and determination brought you here." slowly he pulled her to him. "And your dauntless bravery.. will safe him. Remember that."

He knew she listened every words he said, when he heard a small sob coming from her. Breathing in, he pulled her even closer. "You are the bravest kid I've ever met, Finn."

Still looking down, she slowly wiped her tears. Greg too said the same things, that she was a brave girl. Everyone believed it. Making her believed it too. "Thank you, John." She meant it. Before this occurrence, she only had Sarah in her life. His father? He was in her life, yet he was never really in her life. Was never really care about her. But now.. now she had at least three men than really cared about her. "Somehow strangers really cared about you more than your family did."

Her reply made him frowned. It sounded so matured and so.. genuine? Wait. Was he missing something? Was her father--
He wanted to ask her more when he heard footsteps running towards them.

It was Donovan.

"Finn. It's time to go. Do you want to go or--" she stopped talking when the girl stood up and straight putting on her backpack. "Let's go."

Donovan shared a concern look with him, worried that she was not ready to go there again in a short time. But not him. Despite having questions, he knew she was ready. Ready to help in any way to find the Inspector.

"She'll be fine." mouthed him confidently.

Chapter Text

Blinked.
His heart pounding harder inside his battered chest.

Absentmindedly massaging it, his tired eyes looking up, seeing one small figure ran rather faster -- despite the tilted ground, and the dark night; towards those waving lights. He knew those small hands would have scratches after, but it was better that than.. than this.

And the promise.

She totally keeping it.
Good girl.

Smiled.

If.. if this was the last time he saw her..

She would be fine.
She knew what to do.

Breathing in, he turned to see a group of men viciously running towards him.

He peered down, briefly looking at his wounded side that seemed couldn't stop bleeding after he forced himself running through the night.
He knew his legs couldn't hold him any longer. He felt he could pass out any time now.

Yet, despite that, he nodded to himself.

He swore, whatever happened, he would not let anyone caught her. Again.

He.. he was ready.

...

They finally there, surrounded him.

Bewildered, because these blokes were not the same as before. They were younger.. and stronger. He thought he only recognised one of them -- the one who stormed out of the room. The one that name was--

He was ready.

He believed he was ready.

He was not.

He could see one of them furiously ran closer.
He could see his hand.
He could see where he was targeting.

Yet, he failed to defe--

...

He was heaving painfully, lying on the cold floor, with both hands tightly strained behind.

He was back in this place again.

He barely remembered what had happened to him.
He remembered that he was fighting.. defending himself.

Laughably.

Because he was hardly hitting back, more covering his already bruised face rather than threw punches.
Because he was exhausted, and his eyes were useless in the dark, he just hit everywhere randomly.

Because it was everything but a fair fight.

They were many, young, strong and fit.. compared to him. Even they brought no weapon, their own self already enough to.. to hurt him bad.

His shielding.. struggling eventually came to an end when someone angrily hooked his left jaw, resulting him to lost his balance and hit his head hard on the side of the tree, and making him fell to the ground.

Then the beating started to get worse.

Someone was furiously kicking his face.
Another someone brutally kicked his back.

He could feel someone purposely.. harshly stomped onto his wounded side, making him groaned in agony.

Everywhere was hurt.
He thought he could die right then and there. He could taste blood, he could inhale copper, he could feel his energy rapidly seeping away from his body.

He didn't know how he get here from there.
But he remembered being dragged on the dirt, despite in and out of consciousness. He didn't even notice when he lost his shoe.

He jerked awake the moment when they mercilessly hurled him on the floor, and his heart dropped, once he opened his eyes, dreaded, realising of where he was.

Now..

Now he was lying on his side, surrounded by them.

This was hopeless.
He couldn't hide, he couldn't defend himself and he was in so much pain, he begged his body could just keep endured it.

He realised that he was not in his jacket and his left foot seemed cold.

Someone came closer, and kneeled near his peripheral vision. "You shan't run, mate." the man said, ruthlessly grabbed his lapel, forcing him to look up.

He just blinked and said nothing.

Unaware of his surroundings, someone abruptly yanked his strained hand and forced him to kneel. Barely had the energy, he swayed to his right, before a strong hand gripped his body to kneel straight. A small cry escaped from his mouth, feeling a sudden tightness around his middle.

"I think we've got off the wrong foot 'ere." said the man who he assumed was the leader of this new.. band; staring intently at him. "I'm nothin' like me brother," he said, with eyes that never left him. Crouching, he face to face with him, "I'm worst."

Without lifting his head, he glared at the man in front of him. He believed him. He believed his threat. This man was.. crazy. Relentlessly wanting to tear him apart, regardless of the short time they met.

"So.. tell me.. mate, where did that lassie go?"

Blinked.
His dried throat slowly swallowing a lump.

He knew that girl less than a fortnight, and deliberately a lot of things happened within those short time. They took care of each other. He was fond of her since the beginning and one thing led to another, he would do anything for her. Just to keep her safe, even it meant that he would--

Lifting his head, he slowly shook his head. "Can't help you there." whispered him, slightly swaying. He knew his answer would drive the man mad, and he was ready.. ready for any consequences.

If.. if he died--
Hell, if.. if--

It went unnoticed, he didn't realise it. Everything happened so fast, so surprised, and suddenly he was on his side, lying on the floor. His left temple felt warm, madly throbbing, before feeling something wet slowly trickling from it.
Eyes fluttered, he tried to regulate his breathing.

"Funny thing about this, mate, I know you'll say that." laughed, he put his foot on his body and shoved him to lie on his back, before stomped on his bleeding side and nonchalantly pinned him to the ground.

His eyes went wide, he couldn't help but choked on his own blood. He grasped his both hands so hard, he didn't realise the way his knuckles turned white. Started to see black spots flying around, he knew he was going to pass out.

"I'll ask again." the man put extra pressure on his foot, making him stifled a cry.
His teary eye blinked hard, his battered chest moving up and down frantically, trying to steal short shallow breath, before forcing himself to look at the man.

"Where did that lassie go?"

Chapter Text

He just looked at them walking together to her car before noticing his flatmate was staring at him from afar, standing alone under a tree.
Looking around, he then walked faster towards him.

"We're going with them too, right?" asked him slightly jogged before joining stood beside him watching the girl get into the back of the car, while Donovan talking to her officers. His friend just shook his head and putting his glove hands inside his Belstaff's coat pockets. "We need to go somewhere else first."

Frowning, question eyes blinked and looked at him. "Where?" the question that clearly bored his friend, hence no answer given, and just left it hanging. Turned, he watched the girl who sat alone inside the car, looking out, waiting for the sergeant.

Seeing her alone without anyone made him thinking that he should be with her, accompanied her and keeping his eyes on her.
"No, John. She doesn't need you." said the man beside him knowingly, liked reading his mind.

The deduction.

Despite acknowledging the brilliance of it, he never not surprised with him. Shocked.. amazed.. annoyed -- the feelings of how in the world he knew that. Was it from her shoe prints? Or.. or from the scraps of her nails that showed the.. the--
He couldn't think of any.

How?
For million times.

How?

He could feel the detective giving him the eyeroll. "It's obvious, John." said the man, turned to face him. "Her body language."

He heard that. His eyes fluttered. Disbelief.
Wait.

"What? Are you saying that she doesn't trust me?" he accused directly, didn't care to be discreet.

"No. She trusts you. She trusts me. She trusts her." tilting his head at the sergeant. Looking down, he continued telling him in slower voice. "But she trusts him the most." added his friend making him blinked and looked at him, undoubtedly knowing of whom he was talking about.

"She trusts us. That's the reason why she willingly gambling her life with us." he said, distinctive baritone sounded firm and emotionless. "But, she trusts her slightly more. She even allowed her to carry her backpack -- the only thing that she forbid to anyone to touch, but her." explained him keeping his eyes on the girl.

His friend was right.
Hell, the Great Sherlock Holmes was always right.

Now Sherlock mentioned it -- the backpack; he noticed that the girl just gave her bag to the sergeant without any hesitation when the woman asked for it to put in the car.

Sighed. "Alright." he nodded and readily letting this one go, before his eyes wandered around, realising this was not an easy road to hail the cab. "But Sherlock, we don't have--" he halted when seeing his flatmate pointing his finger at the black car that parked across the sergeant's.

"Mycroft has it use, after all." the detective smirked, started to walk to that said car. Despite having question, he just stared at him weirdly before walked with him crossing the road.

Frowning, he stared at him. He recognised this car.
"Wait. Isn't that the car--" paused when he saw his friend opened the back door for him to get in.
"Yep. But it's fine. He'll call someone to pick him up." he smiled, the kind of smile that not really reached the eyes.

He glared at him, shaking his head in disagree. But this was emergency, he really hoped that man in suit would understand.

He got in, and immediately scooch to the other side of the car.. and it started to move as soon as his friend sat beside him.

Turned around, an intention to check on the girl; he could see the sergeant was already inside the car and talking to the girl before driving away at the opposite direction.

"We'll go there too after we finish with this." promised his friend while typing something on his mobile phone.

He just nodded and wished that this matter would be done sooner.

Chapter Text

The girl was slightly running, tried to catch up with her long stride. Realising the struggling, she stopped walking and waited for her.

"Let me take your bag, Finn." she said, offering her hand to the girl. Without hesitation, the girl just took the backpack off of her shoulders and gave it to her, before continued walking together to her car.

Getting closer, she could see a uniform officer was waiting for them.

Nodding at the officer to wait, she put the bag at the back seat, before distractedly opened the passenger's front door for her to get in.
"You get in first, alright? I just need to discuss about something before we go. Just a little bit."

The girl just looked at her, and nodded.

She was seriously into her discussion, she didn't even realise the slight change that the girl had made.

...

"I'm sorry I sit at the back. I hope you don't mind." apologised the girl, when she saw her looked curiously at the empty passenger seat beside her.

No wonder she felt something was off.

Turned to see the girl, a smile appeared on her face. "Nuh, it's alright. You can sit anywhere you want."

The girl glanced at the front seat before looked at her. "The last time I sat there was when I got in the car crash. And.. and--"

She could see her eyes wandering around but her.
The reaction that broke her heart, and before the girl thought that she owed her an explanation, she carefully grabbed her arm and rubbed it gently.

To calm her.
To tell her that she needed no explanation from her.
To assure her that it was okay not to--

This was just a seat. Nothing out of ordinary about it.

But for her..

This was not just a seat. It was something more. The memories behind it. The experience that came with it.

The pain.
The trauma.

"Hey, it's okay. It just a seat, okay Finn? You can sit anywhere you want, alright?" comforted her, with hand that still on her arm, as an assurance.

She felt sorry for her. After all she'd been through..
Slowly nodded, she took a deep breath. Teary eyes looked at her, "Thanks, Miss Donovan."

Smiled. "Always my pleasure, Sweetheart."

...

She started driving, following her other officer's car in front.

"Will Sherlock and John be there as well?"
Suddenly she heard the question.

Looking up from the road, she glanced at her through rear view mirror. "I don't know." shrugged her bluntly, being honest. They did not inform her nor she had a chance to ask them. "Why do you ask?"

"I saw them get into the black car at the same time as us, but they went the other way round." her hand absentmindedly pointing at the road behind.

"Really? I didn't see that." she said, while maintaining her eyes on the road.
Thinking for a little while, "Maybe they need to go somewhere else first." Her reply that she noticed changed the girl's demeanour. After her Boss, she could assume that both men and the older Holmes were most likely the closest to her, like her extent family.
"But.. whatever they do, Finn, I'm pretty sure it's all about you.. and him."

Her answer that herself undoubtedly believed was true.

Despite her annoyance with that Freak (the Doctor, not so much -- she slightly respected him), despite she knew her Boss was in his situation in the first place because of him, despite she was madly furious at him; but somehow, deep down, she too insanely knew that he cared about him, that it was -- unknown to him -- his ability, his nature to put everyone around him in danger.
Especially him.

Him, her Boss.

Her Boss that truly believed (almost) everything that the Freak said.
Her Boss that being force to hold accountability despite his.. past.
Her Boss that unquestionably would do anything for everyone.. but himself.

Selfless bloke.

The girl glanced at her and nodded, before turned to stare outside. "I think you are right, Miss Donovan."

Stealing a look at the girl, she noticed the way she tried to hide her sadness.

'You have no choice but to still be alive, you selfless bloke. Everyone is bloody worry about you.'

...

"Do you like the jacket, Finn?" she asked, glancing through her back mirror, tried to make another small conversation. All this while, the girl just sat quietly, being in her own thought. She did try to make her talk before, but it ended as quickly as it began.

Her question making the girl looked at her before looking down, checking out her jacket. It was green, slightly pale, with two lines across it. It had a small picture of a cute giraffe and a rhino playing in the mud puddle at the right corner.

Nodded, "It's cute." small smile on her face.

"It was my niece's." broad smile on her face remembering the last time she met her. "She's in her first year at Uni now."

The sentence that promptly made the girl checking the inside part of the jacket. "You still have it, all this time?"

"Yeah. Her mother -- my sister, gave it to me as a spare. You know, in case she forgot to bring it.. which is quite often." she chuckled a bit.

She looked at her side mirror before turning on her indicator to the left.

"Was the t-shirt is hers too?" asked the girl plainly, now checking out the light blue coloured cloth that she wore. "Because this seemed.. new. Like never been worn before." continued to check her trousers. "And this is new too."

Her question.
Her observation.

Making Sergeant Sally Donovan almost choked her own spit. Suddenly she could feel her heart beating faster and her face became warmer.

How the bloody hell--
How--

How should she answer this?
Should she tell the truth? Should she lie?
Should she--

Swallowing a lump, she looked at her tried to answer her curiosity before noticing her eyes were slightly wide opened.

Bewildered. "Finn?"

"We are here."

Chapter Text

"Well?" asked him, looking at his friend who was staring outside the window.

"Well what?" his friend casually asked back without looking at him. Uninterested.

Sighed.
He shook his head. Now really was not a good time to be angry. Breathing in. "Where are we going, Sherlock?" he asked through his control restraint voice.

They already five minutes into their so called ride when he patiently waiting for his friend to tell him where were they heading to.

Still looking uninterested, "To meet one of my people." answered him, eyes kept looking outside.
His people -- the people of the infamous homeless network.
He met them several times. In fact, he just met a group of them like three or four days ago. Some of them were nice, if you treated them right.

Anyway.
"Why?"

"Collins called."
He recognised that name. He was a good lad. Always helping others despite his own.. misfortune. Especially when the Great Sherlock Holmes needed it.
It was hard for him to say no.

"He told me, his pal saw someone that uncannily resembling Lestrade's Billy. But young." he then proceed to take out his mobile phone from inside his Belstaff overcoat, and showed him a blurred image that one could assume was taken from a crappy mobile; of a man that sat having lunch alone in the restaurant.

He took the mobile and examined it. Gasped.

It was a picture of the one and only Stephen Williams.
The second brother of the five. The chosen replacement of his ancestors. The most worthy of all. The person who'd been spoken highly because of his achievements.

The sole name that everyone feared.
Just thinking the name unintentionally making him shivered.

Uncanny. Because he looked exactly liked him, but obviously young.

He knew that his friend would judge him. But he didn't care, he just had to be sure. "That's the son, right?"

His question made his friend stared at him weirdly. "Of course that's the son, John."

Shyly nodded, he looked around but him. "Just wanted to be sure." he muttered silently.

Suddenly the realisation hit him.
"Wait. What did you say? Stephen Williams is Billy??" his eyes fluttered in disbelief. "How he is a Billy?? Since when he is classified as a Billy??" he said through gritted teeth, tried to control his voice.

If he had one word for that particular Williams, it would be heartless. And the name that suited him was never a Billy.

He would do anything just to get what he wanted. Any means necessary. It would be threatening, or kidnapping, or.. or torturing, or worst.. murdered.
Without any regard.

That was why he reacted the way he reacted. Surprised would be under statement.

He was astounded.

"Since he had been diagnosed with cancer."

That one liner shut him completely.

...

Then his friend proceeded to tell him the whole background story about this particular Williams.

Not that he knew nothing about him, he knew, well, part of it. But not so much. His friend did mention about the man before, once or twice, still, honestly, he didn't reaaally pay attention that much.
Ordinary mindless boring brain.

Yeah.

...

According to his detective friend, despite being one powerful most intimidated name, Stephen was considered a very private person. He rarely shared his personal life other than his gored work.

They knew he was married and had kids, but they rarely saw his family. Let his work showed, not his private life. Besides, it was for the better. The protection. If any of his list of enemies knew who or where his wife and kids were, without doubt they would be targeted.

And about his illness..

No one other than his family and closest friends knew.. except of course, the Holmes.

The younger Holmes knew about the secret from his long-range patient observation. From the way that man's dressing, the way he brought himself, and from.. well, he was not really remembered.

As usual, his flatmate would nonchalantly, fast paced, explaining it in his own deductive way -- recalling every strange and odd things that he noticed; and he -- the ordinary one, who never not amazed; always dropping his jaw everytime he in his mode.

He would interjected his story every now and then. Ignoring the side eyes, and the annoying tone.

Nonetheless, what he got from this was, after the cancer, this Stephen Williams had remission.
During this remission period, he still doing his business liked always, maintaining his name as someone that everyone feared. But it was not for long. His illness recurrent after two years. And that changed him, almost eighty percent.

The changes that not fan by many. Especially the brothers. He became a complete different person. He found peace. He found good in everything. Which despised his brothers even more.

"He probably the one who helped them ran away." his flatmate said at the end.

Frowning, his confused eyes staring at him.

"What do you mean 'help'?"

...

Since the end of last year, the Williams had released a new product that knowingly would take off.

It was a brand new upgraded version of a drug that just not only maintained the same quality and price as before, it also could hold a slightly longer in term of, well.. effect.

Obviously it widened the market and increased the volume.

It gratified the family about the profit that they would gain from it altogether, except obviously, for Stephen. With his condition, and his found way of life; it was hard for him to continue doing it, despite being the leader of the business.

The leader of this massive cartel.

And it brought disaster.
To the investors.. and his brothers, particularly.

The brothers, especially the youngest two were furious.

The brothers thought they deserved it.
That project like their offspring. They perfecting it and used a lot of money to make it happened. They would do anything to keep producing it.

And marketed it.. regarded nothing.

That was why the government representative came in.

They needed to know about the entire operation. From the inside.
Once they already had their own informant, but it was not for long. Somehow the Williams knew. They took his life in that instance. Cold blooded.

Now, with this new information, the older Holmes had no choice but to send his own well-trained man undercover, to infiltrate the operation. Somehow using the dispute between the brothers, he successfully put his man inside.

"Wait. Wait. Hold on." stopped him, holding his hand up. "There's a bit that I don't understand."

"Just, a bit?"
He heard it. The sarcastic tone. But he didn't care. He was already immmuned with it.

"Even if the three of them, had issues, didn't they should like join forces together? You know, like brothers do?"

"Did you even listen to everything that I said, John?"

"I did! But--"

"Then you know the answer to your 'bit of not understand'."

He just gritted his teeth and glaring dissatisfiedly at his friend who still sat straight before turned away and watched the night sky.

"Besides, there's no time to re-explain everything."

He heard the distinctive baritone muttered under his breath, with eyes that still staring out of the window.

Blinked. Did that voice had a hint of worry?

"If they kicked Stephen out.." he turned back his head, looking at him.
".. that's bad news to Lestrade."

His friend had rarely being emotional.

Hell, if he being honest, he never understood how his feelings worked. It was liked his emotions were never there in the first place. Liked a machine.

But hearing his last words, he could hear a click of the key that unlocked one of the emotions inside him -- guilty.

Clearing his throat, he gave his detective friend one assurance smile. "Greg knows we will find him."

"Of course we will find him." replied the man beside him instantly. "I just hope we make it in time."

John Watson was a man who liked to observe. He would silently watch and took mental notes about everything that happened around him. His own Mind Palace might way too rusty and unorganised compared to one Sherlock Holmes, but when he thought about it, it would show up, deliberately.

He knew his flatmate was a bloody smart man. Anytime he talked he would spew facts with no hesitation. No ifs, no coincidences.

And right now, seeing the great Sherlock Holmes saying something about hopes, well..

Chapter Text

It had been five days since they had the girl with them. They were glad for it.
Indeed they were.

It just..

This meant that they still had no clue of where was them brothers hid him.

Hid the Inspector.. from the world.

Lestrade.

Looking back, after they separated from the girl, late that night, they straight went to meet one of Sherlock's Homeless Network people -- Collins. They met him and his pal-who-took-the-photo Lucas, over supper at one of those 24 hours cafe.

Because Lucas said he barely eaten that day, so he, as a good citizen and a good doctor, did not hesitate to offer him and Collins a nice real meals.

He remembered of how he almost caught off guard when his (usually) obnoxious flatmate just patiently waiting for both men finished eating.

Then Lucas proceeded telling them about the man in the picture.

His name was Frank. Obviously his flatmate knew about this, but again, surprisingly, he kept his calm, listening to what that homeless man said.

Listened intently, as focus as he could, what he understood was Frank Williams was a decent regular lad who always gave his spared change to whoever street person he met. He was easy with his smile and always polite.
'Sometimes he gave more than he should.' Lucas added.
'Yeah, remembered when he gave us extra quid for the entire week?' interrupted Collins.

All in all, for them, Frank was a generous proper bloke.

And.. his flatmate, he knew his flatmate barely believed it.
Because he knew of how Frank really was. He was just liked his father. His appearance, his attitude, was if not hundred percent similar, he was almost a hundred percent exactly liked his father.

But he just kept silent, listening to what they said.

Lucas also said that he did follow that man for awhile.

Apparently he had this routine every day, that he would sat alone, in that particular restaurant, before someone joined him. A female. He patiently waiting for her, so they could have lunch together. They ate and chat, and it seemed like they were enjoying each other company.

'That's Amanda. His wife. She must be worked around that area.' said his flatmate.
'You happened to take her picture, didn't you?'

Lucas slowly shaking his head apologetically, saying that his crappy mobile was abruptly turned off after he tried to call Collins.

Then he gave them the name card, with Frank's name on it.

Reading the writing on the card, it seemed like he was working as a construction manager. At the place that slightly outside of London.

Then everything made sense.
His flatmate clearly understood now.
He could see it on his face.

Yet, he still.. didn't.

Then they went straight home.
Because he was exhausted and he had to rest. Of course his flatmate would protest, saying that they should go immediately, because this was urgent. But he didn't care. His body was at the end of another breakdown. He needed his sleeping. End of discussion.

With irritated eyes, his friend just gave up and slumped on his black leather chair.

Finally, the next morning, after sat silently inside the black car for forty five minutes, they met him, the Frank Williams.

He remembered how shocked he was at first, seeing the man without his dark gloomy attire. His wardrobe now had been replaced with blue overall with striking highlight safety vest instead.
Somehow, he instantly felt the warmth when he shook his hand. The smile and the way he acted was genuine and pleasant. His attitude was so.. out of him.

Way far apart from his father.
Obviously.

They talked at the makeshift office that was just a big blue cabin container. He said it was temporary, since the project was for a short period, and they almost done with it.

Nodded, he told him that they got his address from Lucas.

'Oh, the homeless lad? Yeah, yeah, I know him. He's a good chap.'

Turned out, he was working with his father-in-law. He promised him that he would stayed out from doing bad things, involving illegal stuff if he wanted to be with his daughter. And Frank, without any hesitation or second thought, agreed.

'I'm happily married now, mate.' he said with a happy smiled on his face. 'I love Amanda. She changed me to the better, you know.'

Then Sherlock Holmes who rarely care about other people's feelings, interrupted him, asking about his father, about when was the last time he met him.

Even he was bewildered at first, he quickly recovered. And a face of understanding shown all over his face, because now he knew why Sherlock Holmes suddenly wanted to meet him. Early in the morning.

'I just talked to him, like a week ago?'
He let out a small laugh and shook his head. 'No. He did not talk to me. Once I said hello, he immediately asked me where's Emily.'

Sharing a curious look with his flatmate. 'Who's Emily?'

'My 3 year old daughter.'

...

That.. that was the conversation they had with Frank three days ago.

Now.
Now they were on their way.

He remembered that Frank told them about his uncles, despite their fight with his father, they kept in touch with him.
'Because of Emily.'

Being the first granddaughter of the family, she was everything for them. Frank should never worry about his daughter's future because his father already set up a trust fund for her. His uncles would randomly stop by just to hug and kissed her, giving her all the love (and expensive gifts), before randomly went away.
Frank said he didn't mind that, because they were family, and he wanted his daughter to have, and to feel the support and the love, even when the adults were not in talking term.

'May I know what this was all about? About my father?'

Then his flatmate told him about the Inspector.

He was shocked because clearly his father (and uncles) told him nothing about everything that happened (they knew about the promise, and they respected that). Yet, he promised he would do whatever he could to help.

But this morning, the reason why they were in the hurry, was when Frank suddenly called him, told him that he accidentally overheard his uncle Charles' conversation over the mobile phone.
'I don't know if this help, but he told the other guy that he'll wire another half of what he promised once the job done.'

He locked his eyes with his flatmate, before hastily put his mobile phone on loudspeaker.
'He said something about park.'

He remembered the way his heart pounding harder inside his chest.
'Outside London. Probably--'

'Bromley.' that was his flatmate chimed in, even before the man on the phone said it.
'--Bromley. Wait. You already know?'

He quickly denying it before saying his gratitude for the information and hung up.

Running faster, he had to catch up to his friend who was already outside, and hastily getting in the black car who he assumed already heard everything.
Knew everything.

Now.
Now they knew where to go.

He just hoped they were on time.

Chapter Text

Bromley.

He barely remembered when was the last time he went there.
Hell, he barely remembered when was the last time he went outside of London.

If he'd be honest, if he ever had free time, he would rather spend it relaxing in his flat, reading books, watching crap shows on the telly, or just doing nothing.

Unless, when the case needed to.
Like this.

Now.

The ride supposedly took less than an hour, and yet, somehow it felt so far away.
He could see the scenery slowly changed, from the view of skyscrapers with florescent lights and cars everywhere; to bark of trees and once in a while, the lamp poles, pouring their lights onto the calm silent roads.

Staring blankly outside the window, his mind couldn't help but to recall his last time meeting with the Inspector. It was like.. what? a month ago? He couldn't exactly pinpoint it.

Both of them were slightly occupied this past month.
He had more patients than he anticipated, and cases with Sherlock were not helping either, and Greg..
Well, after all he was a copper, always on call. Always busy.

But if he had some free time, he would try to sneak in his hectic schedule to meet him.

It was over late lunch -- the lunch that he fiercely forced him to have; knowing him would skip it when he was busy. Without giving him any chance to say no, or for him to say that he would eat later, he brought in the food and had it together in his office. He even ordered him the usual -- the staple fish and chips.

Normally, before that two years.. happened, they would cheerily eat, talking about everything, that always ended with Greg pulled out his mobile and show his daughter's new unlock achievement. It could be anything, any random stuff, like a video when the first time she called him Dad, or a photo of her holding a drawing, ignoring the messy paints all over her big smile face, or a video of her performing ballet with friends in front of the class; it could be anything really, and every time the Inspector did that, he could see a proud face all over his.
But now, they just ate silently. Greg became less talk, and his personal life literally became personal. He kept everything in private. No more showing videos and photos.
No more nothing.

Looking at him, he knew he lost his appetite, he could see the way he was struggling to finish his lunch.
He also knew that he rarely eaten anything nowadays. His Sergeant once told him that there was a time when he barely stepped out from his office, other than going to the crime scenes, then he kept hiding inside his office.

These past two years really affected him.
Changed him.

He honestly didn't know if the Inspector became better or worse. Because sometimes, there were times when he seemed to enjoy being around people, making jokes and stuff; but some other (most) times he just shut himself out from everyone.

"He's getting better." said Sherlock abruptly, interrupted his thought.
Surprised, his eyes blinked hard before turning and stared weirdly at him. How in the bloody hell he knew--

Breathing out. Nope. Nevermind.

"But he's an idiot." he added, still staring at the night view outside, unnoticed to the annoyed face beside him. "He should know by now, by his heart, that nothing could ever pass me."

"Oh, I think he really acknowledged that, Sherlock." his words that made the Detective turned to see him. "He's not much an idiot as you think he is." he said, glaring at his friend. "But with you being you--" Sighed. He should stop talking.
Apart from him and Mycroft, Greg Lestrade was the only other person that could at least control his flatmate a little bit, despite being the one who'd been treated the worst. He'd been called many names by him, and yet, he stayed patiently. "He's tired, Sherlock. He really is. His job is the only thing that he had." Blinked, he gritted his teeth and looked at his hands. "The only thing that make him stay sane."

Suddenly a picture that he saw in the kitchen drawer appeared inside his mind. "We are the only ones he got, Sherlock. He needs us. And if anything happens to him--" he swallowed a lump, fluttered eyes wandered around before stopped and locked eyes with his flatmate. "--if anything happens, I never forgive myself."

"Ever."

...

Finally.

As soon as the driver pulled over at the curb, they immediately reached for the door handle and went out, feeling the cold air impatiently brushing on their faces. Pulling the jacket slightly tighter, trying to hold the remaining heat, their eyes wandered around before they started to run deep through the trees.

It was so bloody cold.

According to the weather forecast, he remembered reading one; the snow had already fallen since last night. For someone, it was kind of romantic, but for others, for them especially, it worried them. The snow made it even worse.

With an emergency med bag on his back, one hand held the trusty torch, the other one held his reliable weapon; he carefully ran behind his flatmate's long steps, who was running following the map from his mobile phone.

The red blinking dot on the map.
From the tracker.

Greg's tracker.

Mycroft had told them about the tracker that suddenly seemed to be working. Before this, the tracker had frustrated them. It became an unreliable source, and couldn't be trusted.
Somehow, around late evening yesterday, the tracker switched on unexpectedly and showed them something. On that time, they didn't held any hope with it, and just assumed that it already faulty. But their thought changed once they checked it and cross matched with the one that Frank told them. It was true.

That red dot was truly him.

They were getting closer. He could feel that.
His legs kept running, and his heart pounding harder, he even could hear it banging inside his ears.

Sherlock who was sprinting since they got out from the car, abruptly halted, and pointing his torch on the tilt ground in front of him, before hastily directing it slightly high.

There was a small hill in front of them. Turned his back, he noticed the Doctor was partly farther away from him. He couldn't wait for him to be here any longer.

"Come on, John!" he then shouted, hurriedly climbed up.

Looking up at the obstacle in front of him, he swallowed a lump in his dried throat, tried to catch his breath.
This was nothing, his thought randomly comforting himself.

Breathing in, he started climbing.
He kept doing it, ignoring the strain that he could feel in his legs, each time he went for big pace; before finally reached at the top of the hill.

"Sherlock?" muttered him, when he looked around and realised he was alone.

"John!!"

He heard the baritone voice screaming his name. Pointing his torch to the spot that he assumed was where his friend's voice were coming from, his eyes suddenly went wide. His heart was beating faster, felt like it could burst out from his chest right then and there.

He ran.
No.

He hurtled.
As fast as he could, ignoring the ground that tilted everywhere he went, and the gravity that almost--

He needed to be fast.

Sherlock was not alone.

Chapter Text

He lost count.

He didn't know how many days had passed.

Everyday was the same for him.

He couldn't sleep.
He couldn't rest.

Every time he felt on the verge of sleeping, he would force it to stay open. With all of his energy that he poorly had.

He was exhausted.
He was in pain.
Everywhere hurt like hell.

His hands.
He couldn't feel his tied up hands behind his back.

Yet, he tried to stay awake.
He had to.

...

He was lying on his right side, tired eyes stared blankly at the opposite wall, when suddenly a man burst in and straight went to him.

Startled, he lifted his head and hastily tried to back away. He hissed instantly when an abrupt pain radiated from his left chest through his whole body.
Ignoring the pain, he kept struggling to free himself when the man easily snatched his arm and yanked him up, forcing him to stand, before immediately falling back to the floor.

He couldn't stand.
He couldn't feel his legs.
Numb.

Collapsed to the floor, his heart pounding harder. He was scared for his life when he heard an anguished cry from the man. He frighteningly knew what would happened when he was frustrated.

"YOU PIECE OF--"

He didn't hear it.

Not because he chose not to.
It just.. his ears were busy catching sounds of something hard and sturdy met his already boltch, badly bruised middle. Repeatedly.
That he confirmed would tear his old wound.

His vision turned black.
His hearing slowly became muffled.
His body getting weaker every time the hard and sturdy boot met his soft, black and blue middle.

He struggled to hold on.

He lost count after six.

...

His eyes flew opened, when he felt something hit his head.
Yet he saw nothing.

He was in some sort of transportation. In a.. a van. With cloth covering his whole head, he had no idea where they took him.

Sluggish mind thinking, he then realised what they did now.
They moved him somewhere outside.

He had no use to them anymore.

...

Blinked.
He could see a group of men walking away, after leaving him there alone.

Blinked.
He heard nothing but his own painful breathing.

Blinked.
It was snowy and windy. He was freezing yet he was madly sweating. His body expelled the heat that he was desperately needed.

Blinked.
He could see white snow underneath slowly changing colour.
From white to pink.
From pink to crimson.

Sluggishly spreading in area.

Blinked.
This was okay, his thought rambling.
Being here or anywhere didn't make any different. He would die alone. Because no one would find him here.
And he was bloody exhausted. He didn't have the energy left to do anything. He could feel his body slowly shut down.

Blinked.
He was fine with it.
This was his punishment.

He deserved this.

...

His tired eyes stared at the man who was towering in front of him.
Obviously he knew this man. He kept seeing this man in his dream. Him and his friend.

In his dream, this man and the friend always wore the same clothes, always doing the same things.

But this one seemed.. different.
This one seemed concerned and.. alerted.

He seemed out of breath and puffing cold smoke.
This version seemed.. real.
Seemed alive.

Seemed worried?

No.
No.

Don't be a fool.

This must be another dream.