It was a few minutes before anyone missed him. Lizzie called up the stairs to get him down for dinner. When there was no answer, she shrugged, figuring he'd come when he smelt the bacon. But he didn't. She sent Sherlock upstairs to fetch him. Within seconds, she wished she had gone instead, as she heard the little boy scream in terror. She sprinted up the stairs, Kevin a step behind her, John staring bemusedly at his parent's pale faces, Harry peering out of her bedroom. Lizzie flung open the boy's door and immediately closed her eyes, letting out a whimper of despair. Sherlock careered into her, flinging his arms around her and burying his face into her stomach, tears soaking into her skirt. Kevin dove down next to the twelve year old and felt his neck.
"He's got a pulse. Call the ambulance, Lizzie," when she didn't move, he raised his voice, "NOW!"
Lizzie let out a choked sob and pulled a shaking Sherlock out of the room. She called the ambulance, and within minutes, they were outside the door. Kevin was holding one of Sherlock's new sweaters over the wound, pressing hard and swearing profusely, trying to stop the bleeding.
The paramedics pushed him gently out of the way and began their own work on him. Kevin propelled his family out of the room, and they gathered with Sherlock at Mycroft's door. Lizzie and Sherlock were crying, Harry looked stunned, Kevin was and covered in blood, John was at the paramedics with fascination and slight horror. Only minutes passed, but it felt like a life time, before Mycroft was strapped into the back of the van, Lizzie and Sherlock sitting beside his stretcher, on their way to the hospital. Before they even reached its doors, Mycroft's heart rate monitor flatlined, and Sherlock screamed again.