The Devil in Devon

Chapter Twelve

A young woman was stumbling along the road, holding a pistol in one hand and pressing the other to her stomach. When she saw the motorcade she wobbled back a few steps and tried to take aim, but her face contorted in pain and she sank to her knees.

Hearing a click as Alex Morrell deactivated his gun's safety catch, John cried, "Wait! I think I know who that is." He leaned forward and tried to make out her features through the tangled brown hair covering them. "That's the girl who was with Diabel! Her name's Petra."

Mycroft rolled down his window. "Petra!" he called in a firm yet reassuring voice. "This is Mycroft Holmes. Please put your weapon down. We're here to help." To John he added tersely, "Cover your ears until I speak to her."

"What? Why?"

"She might say Diabel's real name."

"Oh. Right."

John pressed his forefingers into both ears and continued to watch the young brunette, who got unsteadily to her feet, lowered the pistol, and lumbered toward them. Mycroft and Morrell slowly got out of the car and approached her. When Petra caught up to them, she spoke and gestured wildly in the direction from whence she had come. She was in mid-explanation when her eyes rolled suddenly and she fainted.

Mycroft gathered her quickly in his arms and held her while Morrell checked her pulse and carefully lifted her blouse hem to examine the injury she'd been protecting. When he saw red smears on her skin, John went cold all over.

Something had clearly happened at Elena's hideout. Something that caused Petra to be wounded.

Oh God, Sherlock…

Heart hammering, John leaned out the window. "Mycroft- bring her here. Let me examine her."

Mycroft carried Petra over to the car while Morrell went to speak to Lestrade and the occupants of the second vehicle. John opened the door, stepped out, and helped the elder Holmes lay her out on the seat. When Morrell returned, he handed her pistol to John.

"Stay here with her. There's a first aid kit in the glove compartment," Mycroft ordered as John examined her wound. He quickly determined that she had been grazed by a bullet, resulting in an ugly-looking but nonlethal injury. "We'll continue to the house. It's five minutes away."

John whirled around. "Did she say what's happening?"

"Sergei Ragulin's associates are here looking for someone named Alexei. Diabel resisted them and there was shooting. The gunmen are still there."

Alexei was here? John's jaw dropped.

"And Sherlock?" he managed.

Mycroft's expression was grave but his eyes registered a wild alarm. "She didn't say. John, I've got to go. You need to stay here. I can't risk you hearing Diabel's real name somehow." To the driver, he added, "Anders, come with me."

John knew he was right, but the thought of staying behind while Sherlock was in danger was unbearable. Seeing his reluctance, Mycroft said, "It'll be all right, John. I'll get him. Now please text Anthea and tell her what's going on and where we are."

"Mycroft, for God's sake be careful."

"Always. If she regains consciousness before I return, caution her about not saying Diabel's name." A pause. "I'll return as soon as possible."

Without waiting for a response, Mycroft turned away and strode toward the second car. When he climbed inside with Morrell and Anders, the vehicle circled carefully around John's sedan before disappearing down the road.

Heart hammering, John tried to focus on his patient. He texted Anthea as directed, and then got the first aid kit out of the glove compartment. Petra regained consciousness while he was cleaning her wound with alcohol.