"When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire." - Stars
Sherlock stood with his gun aimed at the bomb he had recklessly slung across the tile floor. "Now, now, we wouldn't want to do that would we?" teased Moriarty, "Someone could get hurt." Sherlock looked down at John, who nodded with a severe look on his face. Calculations raced through his mind: the explosion radius, john around the corner, distance to Moriarty, and distance to him. Suddenly, a ringtone echoed through the chlorinated room. Moriarty shrugged apologetically, "That's me. Hello? yes of…" The phone conversation went on, Sherlock glancing back at John, kept his gun aimed at the bomb. Moriarty hung up, "Seems today isn't the day to die, sorry boys!" He snapped his fingers and the red lights dancing on Sherlock's torso blinked off. "But you remember Sherlock, I am coming for you if you don't stay out of this." Sherlock made up his mind. "No, you won't" he said coldly, and he pulled the trigger. BANG. Sherlock threw himself towards john, to get away from the blast, to protect his friend. In an instant, the flames blossomed outward, consuming Moriarty and racing towards Sherlock and John. Then the world went black.
Sirens. Crying. Blood. John's eyes screamed as he tried tp open them, and his ears were deafenned by the echoes of the explosion. There were paramedics working all over his body, and he realized he was strapped into a stretcher. He tried to move, to see Sherlock anywhere, but the pain held him down. He tried to speak, but his voice would only come out as a croak. One paramedic noticed he was awake and injected him with a white fluid. "You are very lucky you know, your friend may have saved you life." He said as John began to drift off. He fought desperately to stay awake and hear news of his friend. "You know, he… well… I'm sorry to say…" and then the world went dark.
Sherlock stood in 221B as if nothing had happened, but his mind was fuzzy and he couldn't remember…. What was going on? John walked in and ripped off his coat. Its hot as blazes out there." He said as he tugged at his collar, sweat begining to drip from his face. Sherlock looked at him quizzically, unsure of anything. Then a small flake licked out over John's heart, and a smoldering hole appeared in the man's torse. "No!" screamed Sherlock, as the gaping hole burned through John's chest. The man fell to his knees in agony and Sherlock tried to put out the flames with his hands, but it only caused his friend to crumble to ashes beneath him. "John" He screamed, the fire catching his onto his hands and the flat. The floors and the walls were consumed, and burnt away to reveal only blinding white. Sherlock watched as the rest of his friend dissolved and blew away in an invisible wind then could only stay silent and writhe in pain as the flames consumed him in this blinding whiteness.
John abruptly felt the world return in the form of blinding pain. His body arched up as strangled cries caught in his throat. Through his bleary eyes he saw a nurse appear and pump more fluid into his IV. He tried to raise his arm. Stop, he thought, I need to know, Sherlock. As the cool caress of morphine began to pull him away, he whispered to the nurse, "Sherlock". All he could see before the medication took him away was a look of pure pity flash across her face.
Sherlock screamed as his eyes popped open. The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced, it tore through his body like a thousand lightning storms. The nurses rushed around him to adjust the medication and he calmed down, breathing hard. After a few minutes, the pain was more bearable. "Can you hear me?" asked a doctor, waving a flashlight across Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock made tried to speak, but his throat felt raw and all that came out was a low whimper. "You should recover, but it will be hard, and we can't know the full damage until you have healed further. Your friend John is doing much better as well," and the doctor smiled. Sherlock swallowed and managed to croak "who?" "Excuse me?" replied the doctor, furrowing his brow. Sherlock swallowed again, and whispered "who?"