A/N - This is set sometime during season two.

My friend made me listen to a recording of a man calling 9-1-1 during 9/11 and I got this idea...I'm sorry...I'm a horrible person.

I own nothing...

Sherlock was laying on the couch, head on the armrest with his hands praying under his chin, bored out of his mind. He checked the time, groaning when it showed it was only half past one. Sherlock turned his head slightly, calling out into the flat.

"John?" He waited a full minute before trying again, finally realizing that John wasn't even in the flat at all, and hadn't been for some time. He barely recalled his friend telling him that he would not be back for a few hours. Something about seeing a building because… Sherlock had stopped listening when it was obvious that the information wasn't important.

He was just settling back into the sofa when he heard a dull boom and the flat shook. Sherlock was up and off the couch before the quaking had finished, phone in hand with Lestrade on the line.

On the last ring, the DI's strained voice came through the speaker.

Yes, we know about the bomb; no, we don't know where it is yet, it just happened; and no. You can't help. We are swamped enough as it is, without you running around. He said before Sherlock could even open his mouth.

"I would be very helpful in the investigation." He countered.

We can handle this. We aren't completely incompetent, you know.

Sherlock held back a sigh. "So you're willing to let a terrorist have the chance to strike again and kill more civilian lives because you didn't use all the resources available to you." He smirked when he heard a sigh come through the speaker, knowing that he had won. "I'll be there shortly." He rung off and turned towards his bedroom to change from the dressing gown he had been lounging in.

After he had changed and was settled into a cab on the way to Scotland Yard did Sherlock look at his phone again.

Missed Calls: John Watson (3)

Voice Messages: John Watson (3)

Sherlock rolled his eyes before he sent off a quick. I'm fine. –SH. Before he shoved his phone back in his pocket. When Sherlock arrived at NSY, he quickly shoved some notes at the driver and hurried into the building. It was a flurry of activity inside the building but Sherlock sailed past it and straight to Lestrade's office. He found the tired looking man hunched over his desk with his mobile pressed against one ear and a cup of coffee in his other hand.

Sherlock flung himself down in one of the chairs as he waited for the DI to finish his call. (Something John would've been very proud of if he had been present. Where was he?) Once he had finished his call, Lestrade took a large swig from his mug before he looked up at the lanky detective.

"Where's John?" he asked, worry leaking into his voice.

"He went out."

"But where is he, Sherlock?"

"How am I supposed to know? He went out with a friend to see a building or something." Sherlock sat up, looking at Lestrade sharply. "You know where the bomb went off by now, I'm sure."

"Yeah, we do." He sighed, though he did not relax in the slightest. "Bart's."

"Bart's?" Sherlock sneered. "Why would anyone want to attack there?"

"He don't know yet. The only thing that's happened there is they recently added about ten stories."

"Why would they do that?" Sherlock asked, sounding annoyingly like a broken record to Lestrade, who sighed.

"Not sure. I hardly ever know what's going on in hospitals." Lestrade rubbed a hand down his face as he pushed away from his desk. "Text John. Tell him to meet us there." Sherlock nodded and stood as well. He followed the DI out of his office and waited until they were out of the building before he pulled out his phone.

Missed Calls: John Watson (2)

Voice Messages: John Watson (1)

Messages: John Watson (2)

Sherlock's brow furrowed and he opened the messaging app on his phone, stepping into Lestrade's car as well.

Messages

John Watson:

Sherlock, call me. – 1:42 P.M.

Please. – 1:43 P.M.

Sherlock frowned as he did as John asked, holding his phone to his ear as he waited for the call to connect. John answered on the third ring.

Sherlock… John sighed. Sherlock's mind whirled as he processed what he heard.

"Oh my god. John."

Oh, come on. There's no way you could've gotten anything from one word. John chuckled weakly, it sounded forced, even to Sherlock.

"Your voice is tense, suggesting a high anxiety situation. It also sounds strained so you're forcing your way through some pain. I also heard the sound of things falling and people talking in the background. Based on what happened, it wasn't that big of a leap." Sherlock said quickly, trying to calm his racing heart. "Where are you?"

Lestrade turned to look at him. "What?"

"John was in Bart's when the bomb went off." Sherlock explained. He watched the blood drain from the detective's face and wondered if he looked the same.

Near the top, I think. I wasn't really paying attention, Mike was showing me all the new additions. Hold on. Sherlock heard shifting as John moved the phone away from his face and muffled voices. He, uh, says we're on the eleventh floor.

"Are there any more people besides you two on that floor?"

Shifting and a small grunt. Besides Mike… One other doctor, a few nurses, and Molly.

"Molly's with you?"

Yeah, she offered to go on the tour as well. Would- Sherlock winced as John coughed. Sorry. Would you like to talk to her?

"Why?"

John sighed. No reason I guess.

Sherlock frowned slightly as he looked out the windshield. They were probably halfway there but he could already see smoke rising, black and thick against the clear sky. That explained John's coughing. "John, can you get to a window? It may help with the smoke."

Don't you think I already thought of that? John snapped before he sighed again. Sorry. That was unnecessary. So I'm guessing it was what I thought it was, hm? Someone blew up Bart's?

"Yeah."

Well, it must've been close to us. I can hardly see through the smoke.

"What's going on in there?" Lestrade asked, his words falling on deaf ears.

"Is there some other window you can get to?"

No, there's a gap in the floor from where it fell through. It's impossible to get across.

"Do you know where you are?" Sherlock tried, his voice sounding strained.

No Sherlock, I don't bloody know where I am! John yelled. Sherlock heard a dull thump, John probably hit the floor. It's dark, I can hardly breathe, and the ground or the ceiling could give away at any second; the last thing I'm going to think of doing is look around!

Sherlock sat, speechless for a second as John coughed again. "John, I-"

Sherlock, stop, I'm sorry. I'm making this a horrible last call, aren't I?

"John. Listen to me." Sherlock ordered, gripping his mobile tighter as if John would feel it if he did. "You will make it out of there. We will get you out and we will hunt down the bastard who did this."

You make it sound like you know.

"I have a pretty good guess."

I thought a Holmes didn't guess. John laughed.

"Fine. I know who did this." They were nearly there. "Moriarty."

How can you be sure? John asked, his voice hardening.

"I've been waiting for him to resurface for a while now. Though I must admit, I was expecting him to come after me."

Of course… John mumbled.

"What?"

Nothing. Sherlock heard someone ask John something. Sherlock, they want to know when they should be up here to get us.

Sherlock thought about it for a second. "Based on response times and how long the rescue services have been working, I estimate that they should be nearing your floor soon."

You're not just saying that are you?

"Why would I do that?"

No reason. Sherlock heard the smile in John's voice as he repeated the news to the others. So am I right in guessing that you're not here yet?

"Not yet. I'm a street over though. Traffic was horrible." Sherlock joked.

Hm. Can't imagine why.

Sherlock smirked despite himself. Lestrade gave him a worried look as they turned to corner to the street where Bart's stood. Though stood probably wasn't the right word for what the building was doing now. Sherlock took in the scene with wide and – even though he would never admit it – scared eyes. One of the walls, from the ground to seven stories up, had been blown out. As they drove past it, Sherlock guessed it was fifteen meters deep as well. The corner of the hospital that remained hung over the space that remained.

Sherlock?

"I'm still here. I-I just got here though."

So tell me. How bad is it?

Lestrade must've seen the panic in Sherlock's face because he chose that moment to speak up. "Lie to him."

Sherlock stared at him before he cleared his throat. "It's um, yeah, it's not too bad. Could be worse." He tried.

That bad? John sighed. Well, I guess if you think so, then I'll see you later then.

Sherlock swallowed. "Yeah." He jumped when he heard a loud thump, his heart racing as he thought of the worst. Sherlock looked over only to see that Lestrade had parked and left him in the car. He was about to speak again when he heard a bang and shouting from John's end.

Oh my- SOMEONE GRAB HER! John shouted. Sherlock jumped from the car and sprinted towards the blown out side of the building. He made it just as a woman crashed through a window and fell to the concrete. At least Sherlock now knew which floor John was on.

"John, was that-"

It was the doctor. It was the doctor. John panted, sounding like he was reassuring himself more than anything. She was standing when the floor shifted. She wasn't able to balance herself and she just… he trailed off. Sherlock looked at the remaining section of building and swallowed; it was drooping far more than it was before. He jogged over to the man who was in charge of the rescue team.

"How far have you gotten?" he demanded.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The man said, giving Sherlock a cursory glance.

"No need." Lestrade called, walking up to the station that was set up across the street from Bart's. "He's with me."

The man nodded reluctantly before turning to Sherlock. "We've cleared up to the tenth floor. That was less than a minute ago."

Sherlock nodded his thanks to the man before turning and walking a short ways towards the broken building. "They should be with you soon." Sherlock said into the receiver.

John sighed. You're certain then. That's fantastic! John laughed. It was the most joyful noise Sherlock had heard and he couldn't help smiling as well.

"I couldn't ha-"

Boom!

Sherlock ducked automatically as he heard the worst noise in the world through the phone and through his free ear.

Sherlock! SHERLOCK! What the hell was that?! Was that another bomb?! John yelled into his ear.

Sherlock looked up to see smoke clearing from the roof. "Yes, it was. But don't worry. A rescue team will be there."

I really hope-

John's words were interrupted by the second worse noise Sherlock had ever heard.

Crack!

Sherlock watched in horror as the final piece of the building began creaking and cracking. He was frozen when he heard the worst noise in the universe.

Sherlock! Oh my g-

The call cut out as Sherlock watched the piece of the building John was in break off and fall to the ground.

"JOHN!" Sherlock wasn't aware that he had been running forward until Lestrade grabbed him by the arm and forced him back.

"Sherlock it's too dangerous! You need to stay back!" he yelled.

"John! John! Answer me!" Sherlock cried into his phone, shrugging off Lestrade. He knew that

Sherlock watched, helpless, as rescue workers ran to the destruction and furiously tried to dig people out of the rubble. Sherlock's mind was supplying him with facts he desperately wished he would ignore. A fall of one hundred feet with forty feet of concrete falling overhead; chances of survival: next to none.

Sherlock stared at the scene in front of him when he remembered the voice messages John left him. With shaking hands, he lifted his mobile and activated his voice mail.

You have four unheard messages. A cold female voice said. First unheard message sent today at one thirty-two P.M.

Sherlock… something's uh, something's happened. Sherlock's heart clenched when he heard John's strained voice through the speaker. He could hear people talking in the background. He could just barely make out Molly's voice and his stomach dropped. Sherlock had forgotten that John had mentioned her. I'm sure you've already heard about it. John's voice continued. So call me soon.

Next unheard message sent today at one thirty-three P.M.

Sherlock…pick up! John sounded slightly frantic now.

Next unheard message sent today at one thirty-three P.M.

Please. There was a slight pause. I can't stop thinking that you were also- Just respond, Sherlock. Will you do this for me?

Last unheard message sent today at one thirty-nine P.M.

Sherlock. I have no idea what's going on out there. I need to know something is going on to get us out of here. Answer me. I need you to have my back in this. Just one more time. Sherlock sucked in a sharp breath as John hung up for the last time.

Sherlock ignored the woman's questions about what to do with the messages and just ended the voicemail session. He barely registered the noise when he mobile beeped at him. He glanced at the flashing words on the screen.

LOW BATTERY.

Sherlock stared at them, his eyes hardening and his face contorting into a furious scowl as he received a text.

Messages

Blkd Number:

I always keep my promises. JM – 2:14 P.M.

Sherlock screamed in fury and threw his mobile, causing it to smash against the floor, adding to the carnage. He glanced up at the workers clearing the debris. One moved a large piece of concrete from the pile. Sherlock let out a sob when it revealed a dirty and bloody tanned hand above an equally dirty and bloody patch of blonde hair.

I will burn the heart out of you…..