A study of Fear

by Shadow M Rose

This is part of a challenge I am doing, where I shall write the fiction equivalent of a Sherlock episode, complete with humor, action, and feels. I am trying to write in a way that makes it actually seem like a real episode one would find in the series. In this episode, John and Sherlock learn about Cause and effect. Meanwhile, a very strange murderer is on the loose!

1. Gunshots in the Night

Gunshots and the sound of distant explosions rang out, there was chaos everywhere. And in the middle of that chaos, was none other than John Watson. He was back on the battlefield, but this time, he was alone in his plight. Everyone around him was dead, and although he had a gun, he was out of ammunition. 'this is the end...' He thought bitterly, before making his decision. He stood up and ran, ran like his life depended on it. He could hear the distinct whistle of an incoming bomb, and looked up. He had been right. This was the end. He braced himself for the worst, waiting for the bomb to hit...
John gasped, his eyes were wide open now, and he was sitting in an upright position, clutching his sheets. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, and his breathing was shallow. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he was still in a state of panic. Nearly a millisecond later, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a figure, looming over his bed. Panicked, he reached down to the side of the bed, grabbed the pistol he had hidden for safekeeping, and fired two shots at the intruder. The first shot knocked the figure over, and the second one embedded itself in the wall behind said figure.
It all happened, from waking to the shooting, in a few seconds, and only after he heard a soft wheeze and a groan, did he think to flip the light on.
His roommate was strewn over an overturned chair, clutching at his chest. John felt another surge of panic. "Oh my god! What were you doing there!? I've just shot Sherlock Holmes!" He exclaimed, springing out of bed, not caring that he was clad only in a pair of boxers. He knelt beside the detective, trying to assess the situation.
Sherlock was gasping for breath, but soon enough, he was able to suck in a deep breath, which caused a fit of coughing. As he was coughing, though, he gingerly started to sit up.
"No, Lie down!" John insisted, starting to remove Sherlock's coat so he could get better access to the wound. "Where were you hit?"
Sherlock just scowled and pushed John's hands away as they worked their way down the buttons on his shirt. "Goodness, John. I've just had the wind knocked out of me. I'm not dying" He pointed out, sitting up. He groaned and used one hand to lean against the wall, and the other to clutch at his pounding head.
John was confused, to say the least. "But I shot you!" He pointed out as he stood up. He peered closer at his roommate, who was still in the same position.
"Bullet-Proof Vest" Sherlock pointed out, before sucking in a deep breath. He pulled aside his shirt to reveal said vest.

John just stared blankly at his flat-mate, who was now walking briskly out of the room, as if nothing had happened.