WOLF | Sherlock X Reader |

|05| - Temporary

Greg Lestrade was frustrated enough as it was. With everything that was going on, the precinct was a mess. Though this was one of the biggest cases NSY has seen in a while, Greg could have gone along his way without hearing that his niece had been shot.

When he had gotten the call, he was in a very important meeting that he had no choice but to leave. He rushed to St. Barts, sirens blazing and praying to God that she was okay.

When he got to the hospital he was a mess. Worry was well written all over him. It didn't take him long to find her room and the Doctor who had seen about her. Doctor Sharpe, a woman of kind features, told him of Y/n's damages as they walked up the hall to room 307H.

"She was shot once, in the abdomen," she says, looking at a file in her hand, "luckily, none of her vital organs were hit, but she did lose a lot of blood."

Greg felt relieved at hearing that. It was better than hearing that she died. He stuffs his hands into his pockets as they came to a halt outside a pale door, "She's been sedated but you can still see her," Dr. Sharpe says.

Greg moves to the window in the wall, where he could clearly see his niece. Dr. Sharpe left him not moments later, letting him know to call if he needs anything. Greg barely heard her but he nodded before moving to go into the room.

When he closes the door behind him, he lets out a sigh, running his hand through his hair. Slowly, he walks to the visitor's chair and sits, bracing his forearms on his thighs and he puts a hand against his mouth, watching his niece. She looked so pale under the white lights of the room, she looked like she was knocking death's door.

The only thing that assured him that she was alive was the steady rise and fall of her chest and the beeping of the heart monitor that seemed so loud to his ears.

Greg rubs his face with his hands, feeling hot tears brim his eyes. He never wanted to be in a situation like this. One of his loved ones lying in a hospital bed, and there's always a small chance that something would go wrong. There's always a chance that they could die. He made a promise a long time ago to Y/n's father, he promised that he'd look out for her. So far, he's doing a very lousy job at that.

"It was a sniper shot."

Greg jumps, turning his head to see Sherlock standing in the doorway. What was he doing here? Greg shook his head, there are more important things to deal with right now, and worrying why Sherlock Holmes was involved wasn't one.

"Are you sure?" Greg asks, shifting in the cold chair. The detective walks further into the room, and Greg felt uneasy with the way his eyes linger on his niece.

"They don't miss. Not unless it's deliberate." Sherlock says.

Greg looks at her, his brow creasing with worry. "Why her?"

"It came as a surprise to me as well, considering I was right next to her at the time."

Greg blanched, narrowing his eyes at Sherlock and he takes a breath. Now he's never going to get it out of his head. He was very uncomfortable with the thought that Sherlock Holmes might be seeing his niece. "What were you doing with her then?"

"That shouldn't be your concern." Sherlock says, clearly irked, and he looked just as uncomfortable as Greg felt. "Your only concern as of now should be that your niece is on someone's hit-list."

Greg curled his fingers into his palm, setting his jaw as he felt a flare of anger rise up in his chest. "Ever thought that the bullet missed you by accident?" he asks darkly, getting up from the chair.

Sherlock lets out a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes, "I have a lot of enemies, Lestrade. And if they wanted to shoot me, I would have been shot."

Greg lets out a puff of air, closing his eyes for a moment. Sherlock was right, he knows. But he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that someone was trying to kill her. What did she do to have someone after her?