He whistled soundlessly. Whichever one of the possessed people had done this had really done a number on her, to use an American term. But she could stand, and she could talk. It appeared nothing had been broken, but there was always the chance something had been hurt badly. But at least she wasn't at death's door. He got closer to her to inspect her.
"You probably have a concussion, and a few of those cuts look like they might need stitches," he said upon further inspection. "It doesn't appear as if you have any broken bones, which makes you incredibly lucky in my opinion." She knew about the demons, which meant she was one of the displaced, so taking her back to the medbay and hoping someone was awake was his best option. "We are a ways from the complex and the medbay, but not too far. We should get you there quickly. I'm Sherlock Holmes, by the way. One of the three we have here."