You Can't Choose Your Friends

Heartbeat

I'm sitting by my brother again. I can't help but constantly straighten the covers.

"Hey, buddy. It's me again." I grip his hand, "I have this idea that you're going to wake up just to tell me to get a life. You'd scold me for coming to London, a place that I've wanted to go my whole life, and just sit here. Sherlock offered me a place to stay. Poor guy. He's so much like you. But he's in love with his buddy John, who's married to an ex-assassin. Screwed up love story, eh? He plays violin. Exactly like you. God, Drew. I miss you a lot. You could do that thing where you wake up for a bit but fall back into a coma if you want. I wouldn't mind hearing back from you." No answer. I should've known. "You know what I said earlier today? It still stands. You heard that guy, Bryan, but I love you and want you to be happy. The only thing I'll be pissed about is that if I get a family that basically adopted me to ignore me." I tap his hand, "Drew, please be happy."

"Alison!" Sherlock shouts at me from where the elevator is. I run out of the room and to Sherlock. "You're okay." He sighs.

"No dip, Sherlock." I roll my eyes, "What's up?"

"John. Someone snuck into his room and now... I don't know. Poison? Sleeping medication?" He tugs at his hair, "I think it's Jim. We figured out he was alive, not knowing when he would make his move. It seems he's taking out why's closest to me."

"First thought was John?" I tease.

"I do not love John. Our relationship is platonic." Sherlock lies.

"Yeah, whatever. Mrs. Hudson?" I ask.

"She's fine, I called her." Sherlock rubs his eyes, "Molly!" He settles on the nam, grabbing my wrist. I gasp in pain. He lets go. "Apologies."

"Fine. Let's go check on Molly." I wave away my throbbing wrist, following Sherlock down the elevator and out the door. We sprint pass people and through crowds. I'm at an even pace with Sherlock. We end up downstairs. There's a squirming body bag in the center of the room. I take a knife from the counter. "Stop squirming." I order, "I'm not going I hurt you." I cut open the bag. A girl with a somewhat long nose and blonde ponytail pops out, gasping for air. Sherlock hurries over, pulling her off the table and in to an honest to go hug.

"Thank you." Molly sobs, "Thank you thank you thank you."

"Calm down." Sherlock pushes her at arms length, giving her a once over and asking questions, "Jim?"

"Yes."

"When?" Sherlock leads Mary over to a chair and sits her down.

"Ten minutes ago."

"Did he harm you? Other than putting you in a body bag?" Sherlock sets his face in pure hatred mode.

"My arms." She pulls up her sleeve. There's visible finger shaped bruises scattered on her arms.

"Molly, I'm Alison. You can actually call me Alley, if you'd like." I introduce myself.

"You didn't tell me I could call you Alley." Sherlock points out. I roll my eyes and turn to him.

"Sherlock, you can call me Alley if you like." I say in an annoyed tone, "Happy? Now let's get back to the more important matter, Molly. Do you need to go to a hospital?"

"No, no. I'm fine really." She sniffs, "Thank you, Al-Alley."

"Sherlock, call your closest friends. Molly, you're coming with us to twenty-two-one-b with us, where it's safe." I order, "Let's go."

"Americans." Sherlock mutters, following me out the door. My phone begins to ring. I pull it out.

"Hello, is this Alison Copper? This is the Reichenbach Hospital," An Irish voice demands. I turn to Sherlock, mouthing 'hospital'. He nods and I take a few steps away.