John had no idea how it had come to all this, but he knew that he had to find Sherlock! And he had to find him fast! John ran through the floors of this much too big building, opening every door with the hope that he would find his friend there. John had no time he had to be faster, because this was all a question of life and death. Why the hell got Sherlock in that cab anyway?! He probably knew very well that there was nothing good behind this whole thing!
Doesn't matter! That was not important now!
John's legs now seemed to get a cramp with the time from that fast running and the sudden permanent stopping, but that was not the problem. The problem simply was that his feet and legs had to go quicker so that he could finally find the man he was searching for! By now John's heart was pounding faster than it had ever before. With every break he took to open a door he could hear it pounding und at did not slow down. With every step he took it would go a little bit faster and so all the faster the whole adrenalin was flooding his body that he needed to keep going. John's head instead was now of no real use at all. The only thing that he repeated to himself again and again was just "Faster! You have to be faster!" It was not that Sherlock did not know to defend himself or that he was not clever, no, quite the reverse, but nobody could say how a serial killer was going to react when you talked to him. He had to hurry up, who knew how long the murderer would "just" speak with Sherlock? John did not dare to think about that, he had no time to loose and finally have to find the right room in this much too big building!
Damn it! He still had not found the room and he was almost at the other end of the house. He threw a door open: nobody! He quickly ran to the next one: nobody! "Faster, hurry up!" it hammered in John's head. He was wondering now how his heart did not burst by that speed with what it was now pounding inside his chest, it was unbelievable. Finally he opened the last door. "Hopefully was I quick enough!"
The room was empty, there were no lights on. John ran over to window and then he saw him! In the opposite wing of the building, fifty meters away he saw Sherlock standing with another man in a slightly lightened room. The serial killer was holding something in his hand, as well as Sherlock… John's thoughts were speeding up. What the hell should he do?! He did not have the time to run through the whole building and until the police would have come… John had to react and that as soon as possible!
His hand now suddenly felt something at his back.
His gun.
John hesitated for a short moment. "Come on! Do something or it'll be too late!" He pulled out his gun and pointed it at the killer.
He pulled the trigger