So this little story popped into my head and I had to share. This takes place after HLV and there are zombies. Lots of zombies. It will be multi-chapter and rated M for violence, character death, language and maybe sex. Have not decided as I have never written a smutty fic. Inspiration of the zombies will be a lot like the Walking Dead/Night of the Living Dead and the situation is a lot like 28 Days Later. So basically the zombies are slow and somewhat intelligent and the world is not effect by the zombies just England.

I do not own zombies or Sherlock sadly.


When England fell a month ago, not many survived. The return of Moriarty came with a new virus that brought the dead to life with a taste for flesh. Sherlock was able to stop Moriarty before he released the virus to the world, but not before it took over England and the country was in quarantine. With the help of Mycroft, though Sherlock would never admit it, they would not be alive. Sherlock loathed being in his brother's debt, but getting out of London during the panic could not have been possible without his help. Now here they were in the country. God he hated it, but it was not overrun with those things. John liked to call them zombies, Sherlock hated that word, he preferred reanimated corpses which is what they were. It was just John, Mary, the baby and Sherlock in the small farm-house they found and made safe. Sherlock knew Mycroft was still alive somewhere trying to bring back the government that fell. He was too late to save Mrs. Hudson. Not a day goes by that he does not think about how he could have saved her. Sherlock was not sure if Lestrade or Molly were alive. Molly Hooper. Sherlock hated he did not try to find her before he left London. Idiot. She was mostly likely dead.

"Sherlock, we need to go," John broke his trance as Sherlock sighed.

"Running low on food then," Sherlock said as he looked at John. John has lost weight since this all happened. Well they all have.

"Yeah we need to go on a hunt," John said grabbing a coat and a rifle.

"Bored anyways," Sherlock sighed grabbing his coat which is the only thing from his earlier life as a consulting detective. Suits were no longer comfortable when running from the dead.

"We will be back in an hour," John told Mary giving her a kiss.

"I could go out with you. I rather not be alone," Mary said.

"The house is secure and you have a gun to protect yourself. You are more than capable of handling the reanimated corpses on your own also you can't bring Lucy out on the hunt," Sherlock said grabbing his rifle.

"Call them zombies, Sherlock. It is much easier to say," John said.

"Technically they are not zombies. The origin of the word zombi means…"

"Sherlock shut up, you will wake Lucy," Mary frowned.

"Right then let's go," John said unlocking the door with Sherlock right behind him.

The sunlight was a stark contrast to the dark home they lived in. They boarded all the windows and doors so that no corpse could get in. Sherlock blinked until his eyes adjusted as they walked to the woods.

Sherlock found that John was great at tracking animals. They both had to learn how to set traps for rabbits, which was not too hard except for the time they caught a badger. Sherlock has the scars to remind him never to mess with a badger.

The forest was quiet and almost serene if not for the threat of corpses. John looked at the ground looking for tracks. Of course John missed the obvious foot print of a human. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he started to follow the tracks with his gun at the ready. They were not clumsy like a corpse which would make much more pronounces tracks, these were deliberate steps taken with care and thought. It was a human.

"John," Sherlock called to John in a low voice. John dutifully followed Sherlock finally seeing the footsteps Sherlock was following.

"Zombie?" John whispered as Sherlock shook his head. John really needed to learn the difference between the track of the dead and the living.

They continued to follow the track until they disappeared near the brook.

"Where did you go?" Sherlock asked as he heard snap of twig. Sherlock immediately raised his gun only to see a barrel of a shotgun.

"Put your gun down, now!" the feminine voice commanded. Wait he knew that voice.

"Molly?"