A/N: Ah, right..So, guys? Sorry about for a new story. But I had to get this one out of my head. Sherlock has corrupted my mind! And along with some other things. Sorry, I haven't much been interested in Anime as well and I was hoping to get a better start again with my stories. Sorry for any of you who read them and was waiting for a chapter, I guess you have to wait a bit more than usual. Or go on for further notice.
SO! On to the new story and please tell me what you think. Should keep on going with this on or not?
-Bang!-
-Bang!-
The whole flat was awakened from the noise as John walked down from his bedroom and burst into the lounge to reveal his flatmate sitting on the single chair, wearing his sleepwear with John's gun in his hands. "What the hell, Sherlock! Are you seriously that bored again?" John asked in frustration as he took the gun out of his friend's hand. "Sherlock!" the said male, jumped up from his seat and walked back and forth.
"I'm bored, John." He said dully and John rolled his eyes.
"Go to sleep! It's 2 in the morning!" Sherlock scoffed.
"Sleep is boring." He drowned out and then lied on his sofa with a pout. John placed the gun back into the drawer after reloading it and frowned at his flatmate. "I need a case!"
"Well, wait for Lestrade to call! You've just recently solved one yesterday! Have you even check the blog, Sherlock? There has been recent request of cases for you to do." Sherlock made a face with disinterest.
"Dull. Boring. Not interested." the arrogant male engrossed, turning to face the back side of the sofa and curled up his legs to his chest as he lay on his side. John groaned in annoyance.
"Look, we'll get one tomorrow. I need to sleep!" He walked towards the door, but stopped to face his friend who was still lying on the sofa, sulking. "And get some rest, you haven't slept in three days, Sherlock!"
Turning back, he closed the door as he stepped out of the lounge and back upstairs to his room. Slipping off his slippers, he snaked his way onto his bed and pulled over the covers up to chin as he lied on his back. Sighing, he looked up at the ceiling for a few good moments and then shifted to his side, closing his eyes. Sleep pulled him from the world and darkness came.
The morning was a little better than before. Mrs. Hudson came in and cooked the boys breakfast as Sherlock's brother came to visit. John was sipping his coffee as Sherlock was reading the newspaper. "Would you like a cuppa, dear?" the landlady of John and Sherlock asked the man in a black suit wearing a red tie and carried an umbrella. Mycroft smiled a small smile that was not really reaching to his eyes.
"I may have to deny the tea, Mrs. Hudson. I'm only here for a short talk."
"Then say what you need to say, Mycroft." Sherlock said, sipping his tea, apparently not looking at his brother. John sighed and smiled at Mycroft apologetically. Mycroft frowned at his brother as Sherlock turned the page.
"A dangerous virus is spreading around the world." He said seriously causing the others to stop and look at him, excluding his brother.
"Excuse me, did you say virus?" John wiped his mouth after he almost choked on his jam toast and stared at Mycroft in disbelief. Sherlock was partly paying attention to what his brother have to say. The case would be too easy. Just like any other he solved, it could be just secret companies, smugglers or government based that was controlling the disease.
"The virus was firstly erupted in America." he grabbed the remote from the brown work desk and turned on the telly and changed it to the news channel.
"What does this have to do with England, dear brother?" Sherlock finally asked, irritated and a bit intrigued on what has his brother looking like he lost more weight than usual and the creases on his forehead doubled. John's attention was to the telly, and he blinked his eyes.
"Would you look for yourself, Sherlock?" Mycroft said in annoyance and pointed to the telly screen. Sherlock's eyes inverted to the powered telly.
"-this disease, that was spread from America. Whatever may have happened, this is something that has never been seen in real life. Only in fiction, humans are coming back from the dead and eating the flesh of the living." The woman on the screen announced with a slight fear coming to her eyes. "we have exclusive recording on what had happened in America." Then the scene changed to another city, as screams were made and guns shots were fired. The video was not properly recorded and whoever held the camera, their hand was shaking immensely. The person was running and when the person stopped, the camera was in front showing what had the person saw. A live, rotting, walking corpse that was demented and the bottom jaw was ripped off. Clothes were dirty and parts were shredded, and the skin was dead grey. The eyes is what got John and Sherlock, pure white and signified the little life in it. The camera moved to show other walking corpses eating another. The doctor covered his mouth from the disgusting image. He seen a lot of uncensored things that wasn't impeccable to the normal eyes but this...God. Then the camera was dropped to the ground as a male scream was made and the video was cut. So, the one who hold the device was a man...
"Oh god..." John managed out in shock. "Is...is that real?" He asked, turning quickly to Mycroft. He was surprised to see the older male with a grief face, but as a Holmes, Mycroft quickly hid it.
"It is. Something that we didn't think that will happen in our life time, is now present. The President of United States is in need of our help, but as usual, help is never early enough to pass by. Tourist who are visiting countries have brought the disease with them. Our country and the rest of the world is in danger." Sherlock was thinking of what he saw on the telly. This couldn't be real but it is and Sherlock can tell the difference of what can be made fake or not. The recording was definitely real, but what got him excited was the corpse. There was no scientific explanation to why can the corpse move on it's own or why does it feed on the living's flesh was it can't support the raw meat as the organs are also dead.
"Sherlock!" Sherlock looked at his flatmate, irritably.
"What is it?"
"Did you pay attention to anything that we said?" John asked in exasperation. The detective glanced back at his newspaper.
"No, but you may fill in." He said, reading a headline and clicked his tongue in distaste at it as John sighed. After the breakfast, John walked Mycroft down to the door and managed to ask him the question he wondered when he ate.
"What are we going to do about this, Mycroft? Why tell us when we can't do anything about it?" Mycroft looked down at the man, clearly showing his cold demeanour and as he opened the door.
"Wouldn't you like to know ahead of time, don't you?" he smiled coldly as he headed out and nodded to John. "Well met, John and tell my goodbyes to my brother, would you?" and Mycroft was gone as John stood there confused. Goodbye?
A/N: Too short? I think I'm going to keep it at a minimal page of two! Just to get me going better and not just concentrating on how long the story should be!