Falling Stars and Cigarettes

Content

Sherlock was on his computer when his phone began to ring next to him. 

"John, phone," he said, staring intently at the computer.

"It's right next to you, Sherlock," John grumbled.

"I'm busy," he said. John huffed and got up to answer it.

"Hello?" he asked, irritated.

"Hello, is this Mr. Holmes?" a woman asked on the other side.

"Er, no this is his flat mate," John replied.

"Could you put him on the phone? It's about his daughter, Sibley, there's been an issue," she said. John turned to his friend, concern gripping his insides for the youngest Holmes.

"Sherlock, it's about Sibley," he said. Sherlock looked up at him and slowly held his hand out for the phone.

"Sherlock Holmes," he answered.

"Mr. Holmes, this is Anna Johnson the headmaster of your daughter's highschool. It appears she was cornered by a group of other students today and attacked. I can assure you they have all been expelled, but Sibley has been hurt rather badly. She's in Barts Hospital at the moment," she explained. Sherlock had a white knuckle grip on the mobile.

"How bad is it?" he asked, to most people, they wouldn't hear the fear in his voice, but John did.

"It's really best if you could get down here so the doctor could explain it," the woman said. Sherlock swallowed.

"We will be there in ten minutes." he hung up and stood, John nodded, and the two of them went to catch a cab.

"Where is Sibley Lawrence?" Sherlock asked the moment they got in the hospital. The front desk worker quickly spouted off a room number and the man turned again, desperate to get to his daughter.

"Mr. Holmes?" a doctor asked right as they arrived. He had clearly just come from the room Sibley was being kept in. Sherlock composed himself, straightening up and hardening is expression.

"Yes. What is her condition?" he asked, the picture of calm.

"Well, a few broken ribs, a black eye, fractured left collarbone, a severe concussion, and many, many, cuts, scrapes, and other bruises. When she's up and moving again we'll put her in a sling to support her left collar bone, we've stitched up the worst of the cuts, I'll have a nurse explain how to properly take care of them later as well as her other injuries. Miss Lawrence is asleep at the moment but you're free to go in whenever." the Doctor explained. Sherlock didn't waste any time on manners, just turned and walked into the room. John shot him a quick smile and thank you before following his partner.

Sherlock stared down at his daughter. Her right eye was swollen and purple, blue hair surrounded her head like a pastel halo, her breathing was irregular, she was obviously having trouble, probably due to the fractured ribs. Her visible skin was littered in bruised layered over, you couldn't see where they stopped and ended. John shook his head as he stared down at her. Who would do something like that?

"Why do you think this happened?" he asked.

"Why do you think, John? They were bullies who had nothing better to do." Sherlock bit before storming out of the room. John frowned, looking back down at the young, injured, girl, and decided to let her rest.

~~~

Mycroft Holmes was referred to as the iceman for a reason. He had a cold exterior and cared for very, very, few. However, those he did care for, he protected with everything he had, even if his ways were a bit unorthodox. He didn't know Sibley very well- personally, anyways, the moment he found out he had a niece he of course gathered Intel and information on her- but he cared for her. She was his only niece, a young, impressionable, girl and he'd be damned if he let anyone get to her. The idea that these idiotic teenagers had done what they had done, infuriated him.