A/N - Oooh yall not gonna like meee...
Warnings - swearing and violence 😬
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John had gone for coffee with Crystal and they had both enjoyed it. A lot. They had chatted for about an hour after they had left work, but they could have talked for longer. The two were truly two peas in a pod but then John decided that he had needed to get back to the flat.
Crystal accepted this.
But did offer him the opportunity for another (free) coffee at her house first.
John accepted this.
And again they had spoken for another pleasant hour, both laughing and smiling and talking meaningful nonsense. The doctor really did like Crystal and had suggested that they do this again to which her response was more than excited.
But just as they were about to depart together so that Crystal could keep her promise to drive him back to the flat, there was a knock at the door.
The new receptionist went to answer it as John finished his coffee.
But Crystal came back to the kitchen, hands raised, with a gun pointed at her head by a masked man and behind the masked man, was Moriarty baring a toothy grin.
"Oh Jesus," John whispered, standing from the kitchen table, "Stop - stop pointing that gun at her. Crystal, Crystal, look at me, it's going to be alright."
The young woman just nodded quickly, her raised hands visibly shaking and her eyes wide as could be.
"Hello, John." Moriarty greeted, "We just need your assistance for a little surprise again."
"You are not making me wear another bomb vest."
Moriarty chuckled, "No, no, nothing like that. I don't use the same trick twice, you know." His laughter died down, "But I do need you for...target practice."
"What?"
"Oh, don't be such a baby, John. You've been a target before, remember, at war?" Even Moriarty's eyes seemed to send him a sick grin, "It's fun, I promise. But we can't take you yet. We've been waiting, you see, for the right moment to come and snatch you up. Of course, it happened a little earlier than expected but do any plans we make ever really go to plan?"
"Just let Crystal go - "
"So she can run straight to the police?" He scoffed, "I think not. I will be honest though, dearest Crys," Moriarty strolled around so that he could face her, "You will die today. And there's no stopping it. Call it fate but you will certainly die today."
"Oh God!" She sobbed.
John's jaw clenched, "You don't need to hurt her, you have me - "
"Awh, that's awfully sweet of you, Dr Watson, but I also have a witness to deal with."
Moriarty strolled over, hands behind his back and leant forwards as close as he could to John's face, a devilish sparkle in his eyes, "You are going to die too but you have a little longer." He grabbed John's hand and forced a roll of duct tape into his grip, "You will gag her and duct tape her hands together behind her back and then I will do the same you. Capishce?"
John swallowed drily and nodded.
Sherlock and Elizabeth would get him out of this. He was certain they could.
* * * * * * *
But darkness lazily crept upon the once blue sky and there had still been no sign of anyone coming to get him or Crystal. And that was because John knew he had forgotten to say he would be back late because he was getting coffee with a friend.
John and Crystal were sat in the lounge, hands taped behind their backs and silver duct tape covering their mouths. The masked gunman watched them while Moriarty messed around.
"Sebastian!" They heard the Irishman call from somewhere in the house.
The gunman glared at their two hostages, hesitating before he left.
And the second he left John took his chance, quietly murmuring through the tape to Crystal, trying to get her to understand the first step of his plan. She shuffled herself so that John could lean his face towards his hands and her free fingers grabbed a corner of the tape and pulled.
The army doctor took a breath, whispering, "We are getting out of this. I promise."
Crystal nodded in reply.
John then stood, albeit a little shakily without the use of his hands to balance himself, but managed to do so without falling. He didn't know when they would come back but he would see this through - he would get Crystal out, he would get them both out. His hands reached out and Crystal leaned forward to have the tape removed from her mouth too, inhaling a large gulp of air when it was peeled off.
"I have a letter opener, in the drawer by the china cabinet." She whispered to him, "Top left."
So that's where John headed, opening the drawer with his back to the cabinet as Crystal now tried to stand. His fingers slid across smooth metal and so he grabbed it, tiptoeing back to his date. God, first getting one of his exes almost shot with a bloody arrow and now trying to save one from death again, he thought, would it ever stop? Manoevering the letter open in his fingers, he began to cut the duct tape binding his hands, wary and alert.
There was a little snap of tape as he cut the last part and he tore his hands away from each other, bringing them back round to his front where he pulled off the tape that was still stuck to his wrist. By this point, Crystal had gotten to him and had turned around for him to cut her bonds too.
"I have a spare key for the front door." She said, starting to edge towards the door to the kitchen.
"Crys, be careful!" John hissed.
The receptionist raised her hand to quieten him and, seeing no one in the kitchen, she hurried over, reaching her arm past the door to grab the extra set of keys from her little, wooden, wall-hung key holder. Crystal then beckoned the soldier to follow her to the front door.
She slid the key in, turning it gently in the lock.
"Leaving so soon?" The Irishman sang behind them.
"Go!" John yelled.
Panicked, Crystal whipped open the door, taking merely one step out, gasping as she found that they were confronted by two women, one of them also armed with a gun. The frizzy-haired woman grinned as she saw the cogs turn in John's head, his mouth falling agape.
"But you - "
"Get back in the house."
"You're Elizabeth's - "
"Get in now." Cleo snapped, "No messing around."
John looked at the gun that the other woman held and lightly grabbed Crystal's arm as he threw a look back to see that Moriarty's gunman had his weapon trained on them again too. Crystal's chest rose and fell wildly as she stepped back into her house with John.
Cleo and Amber followed them in, shutting the door behind them. Amber sent a glare to Seb and Jim, not forgetting what they did last time.
"Good to see you are ambidestrous after all, Amber." Moriarty teased.
She didn't reply.
"Still not on talking terms?"
"You would have had a better chance if you didn't shoot her." Cleo spoke up, "Where's Jacob?"
"You get him when you have secured the goods and have completed the plan." Jim nodded at John.
Cleo took a breath, "Is he safe?"
"Maybe..."
"Moriarty, I swear if you've harmed him - "
"You'll do what?"
As this conversation went on, Crystal was urged by John to try and sneak out the back. If they planned to get rid of her first, then she had to be first to escape and John would keep the criminals' attention. When she reached the kitchen door, she turned and bolted towards the sliding doors that led to her garden.
At hearing the lock of the sliding doors rattle and click, the four criminals hushed their talking, all looking at John.
"I'll deal with it." Sebastian muttered turning to leave down the passage to the other kitchen entrance.
"No!" John yelled, lunging after the shooter.
But Sebastian carried on and instead Amber darted forward to hit the butt of her gun on the back of his head. Jim and Cleo took a step back as John cried out, his hand holding the nape of his neck as he turned to face Amber.
But then he heard Crystal screaming outside.
While John was looking away in sickening despair, Amber took her chance to land a kick in the centre of his chest causing him to fall back on the lounge coffee table. He groaned and tried to sit up.
"Please. You can take me just don't hurt her!"
Amber didn't respond and simply pointed her gun at his face: a warning.
Cleo and Jim watched from the doorway.
"Isn't it funny?" Jim said, mesmerised by how quickly John had been taken out, "How worrying about one person puts you out of the game? See, the second you stop caring, then it's a lot easier to play but people rarely understand that."
Cleo listened, chilled by his words, "I just want Jacob back." She whispered.
"You're the same." Jim looked at her darkly, "Caring so much about your family meant you got knocked off your throne. Was it worth it? Caring?"
Cleo gulped.
Seb dragged Crystal back into the house by her hair. She was hysterically sobbing and shrieking the whole time. Throwing her down on the floor by the coffee table where John lay, Sebastian pointed his gun at her too.
"No wait! Don't!" John yelled, his hands waving in defence as he tried to sit up again, only to be met with the barrel of Amber's gun pressing against his temple.
"Please!" Crystal cried, her tears soaking into her lounge carpet.
Sebastian cocked the gun, ignoring their pleas and army doctor watched, helpless.
"Wait." Jim halted his gunman, "She's already screamed. No point using the gun now." He paused, leading them all into the false hope that they would spare her, "Choke her instead."
Not once had Sebastian taken his eyes off Crystal as she lay there in front of him. This was merely another chore to him. Murder was a chore. A chore with a toll you had to bear after but he was so talented at bearing it that the life of others meant little to him now.
"Amber." Seb held his gun out for her to take, of which she did.
"No! No, please, no!" Crystal tried to scramble away from him.
And again John tried to move to help her, but he was met with a sharp blow to the side of his head. He yelped, whimpered, muttering 'no' as his head lolled.
The last thing John saw was Sebastian crawling on top of Crystal to hold her down, wrapping his hands around her neck as she whined and wailed.
* * * * * *
Midnight.
The day after they had little luck in finding John.
Elizabeth walked down the empty pavement, footsteps falling softly on the concrete. Looking over her shoulder, she shuddered. It was a bitter night. They still hadn't found John and now her worry was beginning to grow again ten fold. Moriarty hadn't contacted them either - how long would he wait? And yes, she was certain that it was Moriarty. Who else could it be?
She stopped in front of the Rob'n'Cat, using the key that Cleo had given her to normally lock up the place. It clicked and, throwing another look behind her, she entered the dark cafe. Cleo had asked her to come here, so where were they? Was she early?
"Hello?" Elizabeth strolled in further, "Cleo?" She headed toward the back.
But then a suffocating darkness enveloped her head. She shrieked. The material tightened around her face. Gasping, she clutched at the material on her face, now sensing a presence behind her.
"Hush." It wasn't Cleo, "Sleep."
Elizabeth struggled more but the stranger's hand landed over her mouth - she felt it through the material of what she now knew to be a material bag - and then a scent, an alluring scent, caressed her senses. Her limbs grew weaker, her arms dropped, her head lolled as she felt herself being drowned in slumber.
* * * * * * *
The bag was whipped off her head.
Taking a moment, to look around, seeing as she couldn't speak with the tape over her lips, she noticed she was in a small room. There were mechanic's tools on the wall, toolboxes on the floor and blueprints of cars pinned up on a board. Naturally, Elizabeth assumed that she had been taken to some industrial estate.
The thief's narrowing eyes landed on Cleo, who stood in front of her, beaming as though she had done nothing wrong. The Queen carelessly ripped the tape off of her mouth.
"Again with the bag and chair, really?" Elizabeth was seething, and not just from the burning sensation upon her mouth, "And chloroform too? You really could just send a car, you know."
Cleo shrugged, smiling, "Where's the fun in that?"
The thief just shook her head, truly pissed off by how they had conducted themselves. No wonder she chose to work alone (ninety percent of the time) when she was with Jim. Cleo beckoned two gang members over to cut the thick rope that bound her arms and hands to the chair. Standing, she rubbed her wrists and stepped forward.
"So...initiation?"
"Yes." Cleo nodded, "This way."
The Queen of the Forty Elephants opened the door out of the smaller room which led into the main part of the warehouse they were in. There were intimidating machines and parts of unfinished cars to the sides of the vast warehouse. Small, sickly, yellow-glowing lights hung above them, trying their best to light up the area but the shadow still claimed a majority of interior. Further down were brighter lights that had been set up on the floor, illuminating a large circular area. Around the outside of the circle stood many more women than she was expecting. Talk about peer pressure, she thought. Then she wondered what her initiation would be...another beating? A fight?
The many members watched as she followed after the leader, who went straight to the centre of the irradiated circle, but Elizabeth lingered behind, and all the while she did, a knot grew in the pit of her stomach. She was certain it would be fine, that it was just the nerves of knowing that she shouldn't be doing this, but suspicion lay heavily within her mind. Everyone watched, silent, even Amber looked hooked on the event.
"What kind of cult-crap is this?" She muttered under her breath as she gingerly stepped into the circle.
Cleo beckoned her to the centre, "Come on, come, let all the ladies see you."
And she did as she was told, only to have Cleo's hands land on her shoulders from behind her.
"I know you were reluctant to join our family to begin with but after all your hard work and dedication, we want to finally welcome you into our family." She smiled at her thieves, "There's just one more thing you have to do."
On cue, two women marched out with a man between them, his head covered with a similar thick, black, material bag. They held the stranger by his shoulders, forcing him out into the circle of light and that was the first time Elizabeth felt her heart, wholly and truly, thumping so vehemently that she thought it would burst out of her chest.
The unknown man wore a burgundy jumper.
The two female guards kicked the back of his knees to make him kneel on the floor before their boss and the newbie. Elizabeth was so busy staring at who she prayed to be a stranger, that she didn't acknowledge Cleo offering her a weapon.
"Elizabeth."
The kneeling man perked up at hearing the name.
She looked at Cleo, then at her hand offered her a simple, shiny, black gun.
"Elizabeth Parrish," The man perked up again as he heard Cleo speak, "I want you to pledge your allegiance to us, to the Forty Elephants, but in actions rather than words, for they are so much stronger."
The thief simply kept staring at the gun.
"There has been one thing that you are still to do for us and that it is to kill for the good of the gang." Cleo held the gun closer to the thief, "Elizabeth, you do this one thing for us, prove it to us that you are capable of defending your fellow thieves from the law and from competitors and we will be more than happy to welcome you with open arms."
Wordlessly, she took the gun, feeling the weight of it in her hands like the weight upon her back. She never looked up. Not once. Just stared at the deathly weapon.
"Who is he?" She asked, barely in a whisper but Cleo still heard.
"Who is he?" Cleo laughed, "It doesn't matter who he is. It doesn't matter who the officer is, who the brother is or the father or the friend is, all that matters, is knowing you will do anything to protect this gang."
Only then did her eyes dart up briefly, absorbing the image of the kneeling man in the burgundy jumper once again.
Then something clicked. Something inside her switched off. The care for life she had was still in there but now she had to put on an act given the amount of women around her. She inhaled a shaky breath and turned to look at Cleo again, only to feel the barrel of a gun on the back of her head.
"Remember how I said I wouldn't hurt you if you refused?" Cleo whispered, staring at her coldly, "Well, it was conditional. You know too much for me to just let you go now so you do this, or you die."
"Amber, you better put down that fucking gun." Elizabeth hissed, "I'll do it. You can trust me. I'll do it."
Cleo motioned for her to approach the kneeling stranger and she did, unbearably slowly.
"Hurry up." Amber muttered.
The thief snapped, "I'll take my time, thank you."
Elizabeth reached the stranger who she could now hear was breathing heavily, panting almost, crying possibly. She took a moment, staring down at her victim. It wouldn't be him, couldn't be. And even if it wasn't, was she really going to do this? No, it had gone too far and she knew it. She screwed up. She should have said something sooner and now here they were both facing certain death. Raising the gun, she placed the barrel against the top of the man's head and he flinched, letting out a gagged, unnerved shout of protest.
Breathe. Think. There had to be something she could do.
Pivoting, she removed the gun from his head and stormed back over to the two woman. Amber still had her gun raised and Cleo frowned at her.
"Who is he?" She asked again, louder.
Yes, she could have taken the bag off his head herself but anything she did now made her mouth fill with bile. Having seen the burgundy jumper, she knew it was too much of a coincidence for it not to be John. But could she face him when all the evidence pointed to her again?
Cleo asked, "Why do you want to know?"
"Because I do."
"We left the bag on his head so it's easier."
She sighed, a sly smile creeping across her lips, much like the ones Moriarty would give her when he was being playful and his victims when he meant business. This was the perk of growing up with a psychopath - you got to know some of their mannerisms.
Elizabeth lowered her tone, "You're talking to the woman who was raised by Jim Moriarty. If I'm to kill him, I want to do it right, I want to watch that light in his eyes go out like the flame of a candle in a bitter wind."
Convinced by her acting, everyone around her was noticeably uncomfortable by her statement. Cleo was certainly impressed.
"Why didn't you kill the bank guard?"
"Because I didn't want to accept it. The want to - the need to kill. I've been repressing it my entire life." She paused, "When I was sixteen, I watched Jim kill a man but he didn't do it quick, no, no, he tortured him first. Took his fingers, burned his arms with acid and fire, water boarded him and the screams," She chuckled darkly, "God, the screams that left that man's lips were like music, heavenly. I watched. I never took part, he wouldn't let me but I wanted to. I wanted to know what it was like to have complete control over a person's...life and body."
Everyone listened, hooked, disturbed, convinced.
"I knew it wasn't right, I knew it wasn't but the last thing Jim did was cut his throat, not enough to kill him, not on it's own, but then he strung him up by his feet, letting all the blood rush down into his head - out of the cut on his throat. And while Jim had left, I went and I sat with him, the victim, the going-to-be-corpse. He begged, pleaded, sobbed to be let down but I wouldn't do it, I wouldn't stop his death because I wanted to know what a dead man's eyes looked like." She paused, spinning to share a perturbing look with all the women, "And they are beautiful, like glass, surreal but entirely real. You could even call it art."
Even Amber appeared a little anxious.
"So why didn't I kill sooner?" Elizabeth turned back to Cleo, "Because I knew it wasn't right. I knew I was a freak." She thought of Sherlock, about how ashamed he would be if she couldn't find a way out of this, "So I repressed it, watched when I could but never went through with it myself." She took a breath, "But since you're now forcing my hand, I might as well enjoy it."
Elizabeth held Cleo's gaze, sensing the fear in her, sensing the fear in them all. But the Queen nodded.
Behind her, one if the women that had escorted the man whipped off the bag from his head.
The thief heard a strained gasp and looked over her shoulder, turning her body to face him. To face John.
But it wasn't the John she knew.
No, this John, whose rough face was red and whose eyes gleamed with fearful, salty tears, whose jaw shook as he bit down on the gag in his mouth, slumped back on his knees as the betrayal dawned on him. The fake betrayal. Elizabeth wanted to shout that it was all a lie but she had to get them out first. That was her goal: to get both herself and John out alive - then she would worry about Sherlock.
She strolled back over to the army doctor, raising the gun at him again and he shied away, squeezing his eyes shut. Leaning forwards suddenly, her hand ripped the gag out of John's mouth.
"Elizabeth - "
"I want you to die slowly. And luckily enough, I don't have to guess because you're a doctor," She hoped John would understand, "Where should I shoot you, so you get the most painful, slowest death - keep in mind I don't have a lot of patience and neither do the girls - answer quick."
John's eyes blinked quickly at her before narrowing. Please understand, she begged silently.
"Pec - pectoralis minor."
"English, doc."
"Upper arm."
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"Please, Jesus, please, Elizabeth, I swear I'm not." He gulped.
She shrugged in true Jim style, taking the shot at his arm, the noise ringing out in the warehouse. John yelled as he fell back on the floor, hissing in pain and Elizabeth turned to face the leader and the right-hand woman.
"Take - "
"MOVE!" Came a great, booming yell from the darkness further down in the warehouse.
Within seconds, a melee of armed police were charging towards them. Some women scattered, those that were armed began to shoot at the police and the police began to fire back at them, and those that were too slow were indeed restrained by the officers. Elizabeth watched for a moment, eyes narrowing and brow raising, stunned.
"Did you bring them here?" Cleo barked as she had aggressively grabbed the thief's arm.
"N - no!" She shook her head, desperate for some belief in her, "No. it wasn't me - "
"It was her!" Amber snarled, "I told you we couldn't trust her, Cleo!"
Amber raised her gun at Elizabeth and so did the thief, both firing at the same time, both fighting for life. Moriarty's thief cried out as she felt a bullet tear through her stomach, falling back on the ground as the pain overrided her actions and Amber yelled as a bullet caught her in the shoulder.
"Cleo, we need to go!" Amber urged loudly amongst the chaos.
The Queen of the Forty Elephants stared at her subjects as she watched her kingdom burn. She saw the police headed for their little group next but before they could, she stepped over to the wounded Elizabeth, pointing her own gun at her.
"This is your fault." She said quietly, "I just wanted to protect my family."
"And I wanted to protect mine." The thief cried in response, putting pressure on her stomach as much as it pained her to do so.
Cleo shook her head, "For my brother."
Two shots rang out, two different cries left the lips of Amber and Elizabeth as the anarchy continued. The Queen fell back on the ground, a single line of blood trailing down her forehead from her wound.
Gasping as she felt fire radiate from her shoulder too now, Elizabeth squeezed her own eyes shut, praying the pain would leave within the next few seconds.
Instead it grew frightfully worse as a foot harshly landed on her bleeding shoulder.
She shrieked, her eyes opening wide again only to see Sherlock stood looking down at her.
But it wasn't the Sherlock she knew.
Who stared down at her held a gaze full of silent fury, his jaw clenched with vexation, his teeth were bared in a ferocious growl.
"I trusted you." On contrary, the detective's words were as cool as ice.
A strangled sob left her, both from the pain of heartbreak and of her wounds, "Sherlock - "
"Mycroft was right."
"No - Sherlock, please!" She cried.
But the detective scoffed, shaking his head and finally removing his foot from her wound, "I don't talk to liars."
"It's not - I'm not - Sherlock!"
He walked away, not even glancing back. Sobbing, she tried to turn herself, wishing to crawl to him if she had to but cried out again as the pain of the wound in her stomach tore at her nerves again.
She was left there, her face rosy and tear-stained, her arms not quite knowing where to go or what to do, the of exhaustion hiding and fighting pulling her closer to the land of sleep as she lay there on the concrete floor.
* * * * * * * *
Outside the warehouse, moments later, blinding blue lights lit up the area as dozens of police cars and vans and ambulances stood stationary, as armed police marched those from the gang who were caught into the backs of the police vans and paramedics took those that were injured into the backs of their ambulances.
Sherlock, whose face no longer bared any emotion whatsoever, paced over to ambulance where John was sat with an orange blanket around his shoulders. Lestrade and Donovan stood off a little way away from the ambulance and Rita and Mycroft stood with them, watching as the anarchy was brought to a calm again. The army doctor looked at his friend sympathetically as he approached.
"Sherlock - "
"Are you alright?" He interrupted.
"Y - yes but Sherlock - "
"Have the paramedics dealt with your wound?"
"Yes." John sighed, "But Sherlock, listen to me - "
"If it's about her, I don't want to hear it." He paused, "You're safe. That's all that matters now."
"I need to talk to you about her though."
"I don't. Want. To hear it." He spoke carefully, sternly. Pausing, Sherlock looked over at his brother and the group he was with, "I'll be back in a moment."
As he headed towards the detectives, Rita and Mycroft, he overheard part of their conversation.
"Rita has been pardoned." Mycroft explained to the detectives, "She is the one who assisted us, telling us the locations of their stashes which I presume - "
"Uh, yes, Mr Holmes." Lestrade nodded, "We've sent officers to the locations you sent us. That's all taken care of now, even if we have missed a few here - oh, er, Sherlock." Greg nodded at him, "You okay?"
"You should have told us your girlfriend was practically Moriarty's sister." Sally said.
"Sal, don't." The inspector warned.
"No, it's true though. He always acts all high and mighty and now here he is with a criminal partner. We've let her into Scotland Yard, God knows what she could have taken."
"Alright, enough. I think he's learnt enough of a lesson."
"No, Donovan's right." Sherlock nodded, "I should have told you. And yes, I've learnt that people don't change, including sergeants."
Sally scowled at him but remained quiet in response.
"I am sorry, Sherlock." Rita took him aside to apologise quietly, "I know you liked - "
"She manipulated me, Rita. It was all an act. She never loved me."
"Sherlock - "
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. That's exactly what she did."
"But Sherlock, she did - "
"She didn't." He stated sharply, "That's the honest truth."
The detective spun, heading over to his brother, "On this very rare occasion, brother mine, I believe I owe you an apology."
Mycroft nodded, accepting this, "Sherlock, if you do - "
"Don't start, Mycroft."
"If you do want to talk," He continued, ignoring his brother's request, "You know where to find me."
Sherlock stared at him for a moment, swallowing and gave a single nod. Again, he turned away from the group but this time caught a glimpse of Elizabeth in the back of an ambulance. Her eyes weren't open and a twang of guilt and love caused his heart to skip a beat.
He should hate her.
But, frustratingly, he still found that he couldn't.
* * * * * * * *
There was a knock at the door.
Jenna Black hurried down the stairs in her pastel blue night gown. She was always awake late, still studying medicine and whatnot, still determined to get into the medical profession, no matter how much sleep she had to sacrifice. She assumed it would be Cleo having been accustomed to her older sister arriving home much later but when she opened the door her mouth fell agape.
In front of her stood a very dishevelled boy, tears in his eyes falling into a nasty cut on his cheek, "Jen?"
"Jacob? Oh my God!" Jenna instantly reached out to her younger brother, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"Cleo's dead." Came Sebastian's voice from the side of the doorway, "He would have been too if I wasn't so persuasive."
Jenna looked up at him, tearful out of the relief of getting her baby brother back but now more tearful because the matriarch of their family wouldn't be coming back. Ever.
"Who are you?"
"The guy who prevented anything bad happening to your brother."
"Th - thank you but - Cleo? Are - are you sure?"
"Police shot her. They'll be here in the morning to tell you. Act shocked because I was never here." Sebastian pushed himself away from the wall and began to walk down their quaint garden path.
Jenna stood, watching the stranger leave but holding her brother desperately close. Ruffling his dark curls, she leant down to whisper a reassuring line as she ushered him inside.