A/N: 'Sup. This is my first Sherlock fic, so be nice. Actually, be however you want, just review so I can get better, much thanks. As always, I don't own any of the characters in this, because I'm not that awesome. :(

Sherlock felt himself fly backwards with the force of the bomb; he cracked his head on the side of the pool and slipped beneath the water. He didn't even have time to take a breath. As he plunged deeper and deeper into the water, he saw bits of debris crashing down around him. He panicked and attempted to swim towards the surface, it was then that he noticed another body diving into the water.

It was John.

John had dived into the water above him and was swimming at an amazing speed towards him. He felt John's arm snake around his waist and begin to haul him out of the water. They broke the surface and both took a hungry gulp of air. John swam over to the edge of the pool, dragging Sherlock behind him. The reached the edge and grabbed on to the tiling, Sherlock pulled himself up a little, looking at the chaos that he had created. He smiled in spite of himself. It was rather beautiful really.

He was about to drag himself out of the water when a gasp of surprise from John alerted his attention to the pair of feet in front of him, slowly Sherlock raised his gaze to meet the owner of the feet's eyes. Moriarty. "Nice try Sherlock, but you'll have to do better than that," he drawled.

Sherlock gave him a quick analysis; there was barely a cut on him from what Sherlock could see. "How the hell?" he muttered, he tried too pull himself further up, but Moriarty's hand around his throat stopped him in his tracks.

"Your little trick was rather a set back in my plans Sherlock, and you've caused me quite the injury." Sherlock glanced at his archenemy again, and noticed the stain of crimson on his shirt. And now he was closer, Sherlock could see the tiny cuts all over his face. Suddenly Moriarty shoved Sherlock back into the water, "Shoot them, kill them both," he ordered calmly, and walked away.

Sherlock flailed for a moment before dragging John beneath the water with him, in a desperate attempt to save them both from the bullets now raining down on them. Unfortunately Sherlock wasn't so quick to move himself from harm's way, as a bullet pierced his right shoulder, and another grazed his side as he dived beneath the water.

After what seemed like an age Sherlock could hold his breath no longer, he was about to swim to the surface when he saw John swim past him. He grabbed Sherlock's lapel and dragged him through the water and back to the surface. They broke through the water and spluttered, but Sherlock suddenly remembered the snipers and pulled John over to the overhang at the edge. They listened intently for a few moments, but no shots were fired, and the only sound was the crackling of the fire.

"Are they gone?" John whispered breathlessly.

Sherlock closed his eyes and listened again, "Yes, they're gone. Come on; let's get out of here before it's impossible." He hauled himself out of the pool and held out a hand for John, he gasped in pain and pulled his arm back against his side as the wound on his side stretched and throbbed.

John was instantly out of the pool and beside his friend, "Sherlock, what is it?" he asked, straight into doctor mode. His hands were a blur across Sherlock's chest, pulling away his sodden coat and assessing the damage. Sherlock hissed in pain. "Sorry," John murmured. He pulled Sherlock to his feet and pulled his arm over his own head. "Come on, let's go."

They were almost at the door when something above them cracked and crashed to the ground beside them; the force knocked the pair off their feet and sent Sherlock sprawling across the slippery pool side. He cried out in pain, and heard John call his name. "I'm fine," Sherlock called back weakly. He was surprised by how pathetic his voice sounded.

Somewhere in the distance there was the unmistakable whine of a police siren. Sherlock sighed and rested his head on the cool floor; he hoped this nightmare would be over soon. Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, or at least, he thought it was for a moment.

He was woken by someone shaking him by the shoulders, "Sherlock. Sherlock wake up!" he recognised that voice, didn't he? "Sherlock, open your eyes." He complied with the order, and regretfully opened his eyes.

John visibly relaxed as Sherlock's eyes flickered open, but Sherlock knew there was something bothering him. "What, what?" Sherlock moaned as he tried to shake away the fog in his head. John frowned, hmm, that couldn't be good, Sherlock thought.

"Come on Sherlock, we need to get you out of here," John muttered as he hoisted Sherlock up and stumbled out of the pool, there was a cry as the pair emerged from the pool. People rushed towards them, and Sherlock heard people talking to him and John, asking them what happened. He thought he heard Lestrade's voice in the blurry mess of Sherlock's mind.

The pair was taken to the nearby ambulances and Sherlock was forced to lay on a stretcher to rest, Sherlock sighed and looked over past the flurry of people. Through the crowd Sherlock saw someone watching him, Moriarty. Sherlock tried to leap off the stretcher and chase after the villain, but as soon as he stood up he collapsed, and the final image that seared into Sherlock's mind before he succumbed to the darkness, the single image he saw every night in his dreams, was Moriarty lifting a finger to his lips. And then, mercifully, darkness.

So, please review, think of it as a Christmas present for me, because that's when I'll be checking for them. :) Thank you.