It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

78 - Little Seed Of Doubt

<Miss her yet?>

He glared at the message.

<Who is this? - S.H.>

<I'm sure you already know by now 🐘>

<Where is she? - S.H.>

<Check your doorstep.>

One would have thought that his eyes had barely registered the message before he darted downstairs, his feet thunderously guiding him to the front door quicker than The Flash himself.

He opened the front door, eyes searching straight ahead until a beaten and bruised Elizabeth (who had been seated on the top step and slumped against the elegant black door) fell back into the hallway of the apartment building. Sherlock crouched down next to her, brushing her hair out of her face and scowling when he saw the state of her.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth, can you hear me?"

She merely groaned quietly in reply.

"Mrs Hudson!" He yelled in the direction of 221A as he lifted her body and gently dragged her into the hallway and out of the cold. He let her body rest against the wall, "Mrs Hud - "

"Yes, Sherlock? What's - oh my word!" The land lady exclaimed at the pitiful sight of the thief, "What's happened to her, Sherlock?"

"Just look after her for a moment."

And then he was back outside, stood on the doorstep, his cold analytical gaze starting from one end of the street as he panned around, scanning the environment. Perhaps someone waited behind or perhaps there was a clue. But in the hustle and bustle, no woman stood out to him, no one waited in the shadows of an alley, not even an idle piece of paper stood out as important information to him. They were gone without a trace. With a frustrated sigh, he headed back inside, closing the door behind him.

He approached Mrs Hudson and Elizabeth, carefully picking the thief up in his arms.

"People took her." He explained briefly, "People I'm going to find."

Mrs Hudson cooed at the sight of her in Sherlock's arms, placing her dangling arm in her lap prior to him carrying her considerately upstairs.

The detective wouldn't let them get away with this. The last person who had laid a hand on her had been pushed out of a window seven times. Over his dead body if he was going to let petty thieves get away with harming her too.

Once upstairs, he carefully laid her on the couch before fetching his phone. He dialled a number and pressed the device to his ear as he looked at her sorrowfully.

"Lestrade, I found her..."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Now that Mycroft had abandoned her, Rita was left to think in circles by herself. Had she never agreed to assist Mycroft with another mission, she wouldn't be here. Had she not fallen for the Ice Man, she wouldn't be here. Had she not been so careless with her own anger, she might not be alone, in here, in her little hospital room, that now had a security guard stationed outside.

Seeing the guard's taunting silhouette in the square door window only hurt her more - he was the sign that Mycroft had truly lost all of his trust in her.

There was a knock at the door that drew her from her thoughts. As she saw the guard move, that split second before the door opened, hope glimmered in her eyes, hope that it would be Mycroft willing to give her another chance. Rita knew him better than that though and seeing the nurse as she walked into the room, back to the injured doctor, only confirmed what she already knew.