Alex felt him melt into her arms with an itch of familiarity. This could be him, coming home from a long day at work to finally relax. If she closed her eyes, she could kid herself that everything was okay. She pulls away gently, leading him past the doorstep and into the hall to get a better look at him.
There was a reason Alex hadn’t asked about their daughter, she knew for sure that Hamish would have it handled. As paranoid as she had been, she trusted him implicitly with that. The small Mercy is that they had a chance to cover up the worst of it before she came back home to see her father.
In fact, she hadn’t even worried about her safety until he carried on. Immediately, she took a step back to the hall cabinet, taking a key from the back of a photo frame. The small snap of her and Finn in front of the obnoxious pink magic castle at Disneyland, her fingers opened the frame and pulled the key from the back of the photo to unlock the first drawer and pull out an unregistered gun with the serial number scratched off. Working fast and instinctively, she checked the chamber and tucked it into the back of her waistband before looking back to him. Armed, she moved behind him, ignoring the fact he just stripped instantly to bolt the front door.
“Where did you ditch your phone? Are John and Sherlock aware?”
She didn’t need grateful right now, she needed smart. And observant. Alex closed the gap between them, her hand snaking around the back of is neck to rest just at the edge of his hairline, her grey eyes still calculating what she needed to know.
“I can reach out to dad, if it’s…” Her father had moved out of that world, but he had contacts. Sebastian Moran would know if there was a job out on her ex, even if Alex was jumping to conclusions. “Talk to me.”
Hamish had grabbed towel from the bathroom and was drying himself up when he heard the click of the gun. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course her mind had gone straight to the worst -- this wasn’t the first time either of them had been targeted by the very sort of people he worked hard to put behind bars.
Which was why he’d found himself here. She knew exactly what to do, without him even having to tell her what was happening. There was no one else he could have trusted like he trusted her. Not with the mess he’d gotten himself entangled into.
“Threw it down a storm drain,” he responded, wrapping the towel around his waist just as she returned. “Just a few streets from where they attacked --”
He paused at the mention of his parents, screwing his eyes shut in realisation. “-- no, they don’t know. Fuck. I need to get a message to them -- they’re with my grandad while nan’s away with --”
Her hand on the back of his neck calmed him, stopping him before he could panic. Taking a deep breath, he raised his own hand to place it over hers, taking a moment to ground himself before he spoke again.
“Bart Nichols -- the serial killer I helped convict last week -- I think it’s him, I think it’s his men. I’ve had a hunch, but I didn’t -- I just had to get them all out of the city, but I didn’t want to draw further attention to it just in case I --” He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes again.
“If anything happens to any of you, I --”