Cold. Dark. Lifeless.
Provisions running low. Ammunition, too.
John peered out of the blinds, scanning Baker Street for any signs of movement. A slight stir on the street below caught his eye. He watched carefully, trying not to make himself obvious. If they noticed, they would come for him. They would come for Sherlock.
He kept watching, trying to make out the dark figures on the street. Survivors. He noted their every move, silently hoping they would make it through. One girl, terrified, from what John observed, bumped into a car on the street, accidentally taking out the headlight with her gun. The car alarm went off, sending a wave of panic through the few survivors and John as well. He heard shrill screaming, saw shadows against the buildings and knew that the fate of the survivors was iminent.
There, John got a good look at what he was dealing with. Zombies. Almost the entire population of Britain had been turned in under a week. Luckily, for the rest of the world, the outbreak was cured. The last of the cure was supposed to be on its way to London for deployment, but there was no sign of it anywhere.
Mycroft said London was a battlefield. He just never imagined what kind of war would happen.
"John?" said a small voice coming from his bedroom. Mrs. Hudson appeared in the stairway, looking frightened. "What was that noise outside? It gave me a fright." John looked at her and sighed. "Nothing, Mrs. Hudson. You go back to sleep, you need rest." He gave her a nod and a reassuring smile. She left the stairway and John breathed deeply when he heard the door close softly behind her.
As soon as the outbreak occurred, Sherlock and John tried everything in their power to help as many of their friends as they could. They managed to get Mrs. Hudson to stay in their flat, and Greg, Sally, Anderson, and Molly were in another part of London, hopefully fighting for their lives together. Mycroft was barricaded in Buckingham Palace with the Queen and her family.
John looked again outside the window and saw that the group had been turned. He shook his head and felt his heart drop. He couldn't have prevented this. If he had let them into the flat, he would have endangered himself, Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson. He felt selfish, but he couldn't have stopped it.
"It's not your fault."
John turned around this time to be face to face with Sherlock. "Um.. yeah. I know. We just.. couldn't have let them in, one of them could have been scratched or bitten and they could have gotten Mrs. Hudson or.."
"Or you."
John swallowed at the slight pain in Sherlock's voice. The Great Sherlock Holmes, never scared of anything, always one step ahead, always knowing what to do. But very rarely does he ever see this Sherlock. Vulnerable, terrified. If John's life is in danger, this side of Sherlock is the one to be seen.
"You too." John said. They both knew how much they needed each other, but it had never been more clear than in this moment.