The same panic I'd felt during The Fall was back again.

Someone had shot Sherlock. My thoughts immediately went to Magnussen, but he didn't seem like a guy who would have a gun hiding around, ready to be used. Then I thought to his guards. Maybe one of them shot him.

That had to be it. It was the only explanation I could think of. If Sherlock died...

There's no way he will. Dad didn't say where he was hit or how bad it was. But that was worrying, because maybe Dad didn't want to tell me how bad Sherlock's condition was. Maybe the bullet hit him in a critical spot, a fatal spot, and there was nothing that could be done.

I didn't think to call Bayley during that time, because I knew if I did, I wouldn't be able to tell him what was going on with a stable voice. He'd have to hear the news tomorrow, after I got all the details from Dad.

Once the cab pulled up to the hospital, I hastily thanked the driver and ran inside, like Sherlock's life depended on it. I looked around until I spotted Dad, pacing at the top of the stairs. Like a madwoman, I took them two at a time, almost falling back down a few times. I was catching my breath the moment Dad saw me.

"How is he?" I demanded, leaning against a wall.

"They took him back a while ago. It doesn't look good, Rachel."

"He's going to live, Dad. He's Sherlock Holmes."

"He faked death, he didn't cheat it."

"Maybe he can do that too. Is Mary here?"

"No, she's home. I tried getting a hold of her, but she's probably asleep."

"Huh." She must've just gotten home when I left for the hospital. "Tell me what happened."

"Truthfully, I don't know the full story."

"Tell me what you can, then."

Dad lowered his voice so only I could hear him. "Well, we broke into Magnussen's office..."

"Christ, Dad. How'd you manage that? It couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't, but Sherlock thought it through."

"How'd you get in?"

"Well, there's a card scanner with a camera that grants you access to Magnussen's office, but only if you're him. Sherlock got a corrupted card, so the PA would have to see who was trying to get in."

"How did that help you?"

"Well, it turns out Magnussen's PA is Janine."

I blinked. "Janine?"

Dad nodded. "Oh, that's not the best part, Rachel. Sherlock got us up there by proposing to her through the camera."

"Wait a minute, so...he was dating Janine so he could gain access to Magnussen's office?"

"Yes."

Huh. Sherlock was his old, deceiving self after all. His two relationships hadn't been real. Janine and I had been used. I guess I could feel a little bad for her now, considering she fell into the same trap I had.

Wait a minute. I didn't know why it didn't occur to me until just now. Janine and I looked somewhat similar, with our differences. Was that why Sherlock used me as a test run, because I sort of resembled Janine? Or was it because he knew a small part of me was attracted to him?

I laughed dryly. "That sounds like something Sherlock would do. It must've been luck to meet her at the wedding, then."

"I guess. So, we got up to Magnussen's office only to find Janine knocked out."

"She fainted?"

"No, I said knocked out. Like, you know, someone snuck up behind her and hit her over the head. A guard was knocked out too. I made sure Janine was okay. Sherlock realized Magnussen was still there."

"Talk about risky."

"He went upstairs, and then when I came to find him, I found him on the floor, shot. Magnussen had been on his knees, the shooter had been threatening him, I guess. He wouldn't give me a name when I asked who shot Sherlock."

"I bet Magnussen was scared for his life with a gun to his head. So, you never even caught a figure fleeing the scene?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Where's the wound?"

"Nowhere fatal, but he lost a lot of blood by the time I got there. It was about," Dad pointed to a spot on his lower right chest, "here, if I remember right."

"Should we go home?"

"You can. I want to stay here in case someone comes out with news on him."

"Then I'll stay with you."

"Rachel—"

"You need someone here. You'll definitely need the company if you're pulling an all-nighter. Who else did you tell?"

"I called Greg. He asked for updates when I could give them."

"You didn't bother to tell Mycroft?" I would think that the elder Holmes would want to know his little brother's life was currently in danger.

"He may already know about it."

"Call him just in case. I can't imagine how furious he'd be with you if he learned it last." I looked towards the uncomfortable-looking seats. "We may as well sit; it could be a long night."

***

"Where did they take him?" I demanded. I'd just gotten to the hospital. I'd just found Dad, who was pacing. God, he must've caught the pacing bug from Sherlock.

Sherlock. He was here somewhere, dying. Fighting to stay alive if he didn't give up already.

"Dad!" That got his attention. "Where did they take him?"

"Back into surgery. Why?"

Even though I had no idea where the hell the surgery room was, I bolted deeper into the hospital.

"Rachel!" Dad bellowed.

I never looked back as I looked at the signs placed sporadically in the hospital. I ran down the halls as though I was the only one who could save Sherlock.

If Dad was chasing after me, I was outrunning him by a mile. I needed to get to Sherlock. For some reason, I felt obligated to. He needed someone there for him.

Two doors were ahead. I peeked through the circular windows. The breath was knocked out of me. A bunch of surgeons were hovering around him. I couldn't see him between the light and the personnel in the room. But the thing that stopped me abruptly was the scarily recognizable sound of someone flat-lining.

"NO!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. A stupid move. I caught the attention of some of the personnel in the room. Without thinking anything through, I burst into the room. Immediately, two people restrained me, grabbing an arm each. "You have to save him!"

"It's too late," said a woman solemnly. "He's gone."

"No he isn't!"

"Miss, we've tried to help him for a while now. He hasn't responded. Get her out of here."

I looked at the monitor, saw nothing but one long line, and heard the droning beep. No, Sherlock isn't dying. Not now. He can't. I could hear Moriarty's sick laughter in my head as hot tears spilled down my face. I bet he was enjoying this show from Hell. What if he was the reason Sherlock was dying? Even in death, Moriarty still had it out for Sherlock.

I screamed shrilly, tore at my captors as they tried to get me out of the room. No matter if I knocked one person off, another was right there.

"Sherlock!" I hoped I could get through to him. "You're not dead! Sherlock! YOU CAN'T LEAVE. NO, GET OFF ME!" I was about to be pulled through the doors. "SHERLOCK!"

The sound changed. It was no longer one long, monotonous drone. A high, hopeful beep pierced the rhythm. The sign stopped all of us, stopped me from being pulled out.

Sherlock had heard me.

I didn't fight as I was thrown out of the room. As I was told to stay out, I watched through the window, staring at the monitor. The line continued to get more spikes in it as time went on.

He was going to make it.

Sherlock Holmes fought death and won.

***

I opened my eyes to realize I'd slept overnight in the hospital. Half of my back was leaning against an arm of the chair while my head was resting on my dad's shoulder. I felt his head on mine, so I felt it was better to not move and wake him.

I messed with the charm on my necklace, still worrying. There must've been no news on Sherlock; otherwise Dad would have woken me to tell me. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad, that there was no news. It was definitely bad, because that meant Sherlock wasn't in the clear yet. Yet, it was good too, because that meant there was still time for him to pull through.

I hoped to God Sherlock made it. Dad didn't deserve to suffer actually losing his best friend. I didn't want to attend Sherlock's official funeral, and I most definitely didn't want to think Jim Moriarty played a part in Sherlock's murder even though he was long dead.

I knew what it was like, to be shot. I remembered the stinging pain. I remembered how I'd gotten it, all because I was reckless. I guess that's how Sherlock ended up shot too; he put his nose where it didn't belong. He went too far, and now he was paying the price. Hopefully the cost was only an injury and blood loss.

I grabbed my phone, texting Bayley. I knew he'd still be asleep probably, but I had to let him know what happened. I told him the basics: Sherlock was shot, I was in the hospital with my dad, and we were still waiting for an update. I turned my phone off afterwards, as I realized it was down to one bar of health.

"It would've been easier on you if you had gone back home."

My brows came together. "You're up?"

"I've been up," Dad clarified.

"I told you I wasn't leaving you here by yourself. At least you'd have someone to talk to while you waited. Did anyone come to say anything?"

"Yeah, they did not long ago actually. He made it, Rachel."

"Oh thank God." I slumped more against him. "Can we go see him?"

"Later. Mary's coming, so as soon as she gets here, we'll stop by the house, shower and everything, and then come back."

"Sounds like a plan." I blinked the sleep out of my eyes to see Mary jumping up the steps.

I sat up as Dad went to go talk to Mary. No words could describe how relieved I felt right now. I would be more than willing to leave the hospital, shower, dress, and eat now. I wouldn't worry about Sherlock's recovery. My only concern would be the drugs they put him on and if he would try to dose himself more than what was recommended.