This story begins seconds after the close of The Great Game (Episode 1.03) because I just couldn't stand leaving things on such a cliffhanger. There will be quite a bit of Sherlock whump in this chapter and of course some hurt/comfort goodness to come, but no slash just Sherlock/John friendship. The characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, & Mark Gatiss and not me I'm afraid, but I quite enjoyed borrowing them for the story.

Sherlock looked into John's eyes. He hoped he could communicate as well silently as he could with words. Well, here goes nothing, he thought.

John stared into Sherlock's eyes. His incredibly expressive, always intense eyes. He knew that Sherlock was trying to tell him something, but what? It was clear that he had a plan for how they could both get out of here alive. Sherlock's eyes drifted to the right and suddenly John knew what to do.

All of the sudden there was an almighty splash. Moriarty jumped in surprise. The laser lights that were emanating from three high powered rifles hovered in the air, no longer finding their targets.

Moriarty shouted in frustration. "Well, don't just stand there you idiots, go after them. They are in the pool. Take them out with any means necessary."

Moriarty watched with morbid fascination as his muscled bodyguards jumped into the pool after Sherlock and John, their thousand dollar Armani suits immediately ruined by the chlorinated water. Moriarty had to admit, he hadn't seen that move coming. He was also impressed by Sherlock's ability to communicate wordlessly with John. Had John jumped even a second later than Sherlock, he'd be dead on the damp tiles, his chest full of lead from his bodyguards' sniper rifles. Timing truly was everything.

Sherlock sank beneath the cold water, his heavy coat pulling him down almost immediately. He forced his eyes open despite the sting of the chlorine and was relieved to see John a few feet away. Both of them had avoided certain death at the hands of several probably post-military snipers. But what should they do now?

John was relieved that he had got it right, that Sherlock had intended him to jump into the pool. His relief was short-lived as he saw several large muscled men leap into the pool and start swimming for him. What should they do now?

Sherlock started swimming as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. He could feel the churning of the water from the bodyguards behind him and before he knew it, he felt a strong hand grasp his ankle, pulling him hard and wrenching his body from beneath the water's surface.

John continued swimming down and down towards the bottom of the pool some 10 meters below the surface. Before being called to service in Afghanistan, John had trained with the SBS and could hold his breath for over 3 minutes. He hoped that he could hold his breath long enough to avoid the bodyguards and allow Sherlock to think of another clever way to save their lives. At this point, Sherlock was his only hope.

Sherlock was yanked into a standing position by his hair. Here we go, he thought to himself. This a fight for my life and John's as well. Sherlock ignored the stinging pain in his scalp and grabbed the bodyguard by his suit lapels, jumping backwards to pull himself and the bodyguard beneath the water's surface.

Once under the water, Sherlock managed a strong right hook to the bodyguard's jaw. The bodyguard stood up, sputtering and again yanked Sherlock out of the water, this time pulling him up by his left arm, wrenching his shoulder as he did so. He swept Sherlock back, smashing his right temple into the concrete ledge at the edge of the pool.

Pain was all Sherlock could focus on. After only getting in one good punch, the bodyguard yanked him above the water, twisting his arm as he did so until Sherlock heard the sickening crunch that must accompany a broken bone. Before he could even properly register the agony in his left arm, the bodyguard pulled him up again, this time connecting his head with the stone ledge. Sherlock saw stars, temporarily losing both his sight and his hearing. However, Sherlock could still feel the throbbing pain within his skull and feel the warm gush of blood down his temple and cheek.

John reached the bottom of the pool, his arms and legs burning from the effort and his brain beginning to feel the oxygen starvation. He looked up and was relieved to see that the burly bodyguard had only made it half of the way down to the pool's bottom and looked nearly ready to pass out from lack of oxygen. John looked at his watch. He'd been under for a minute and a half and needed to come up with a plan, quickly. He glanced up again to see that the bodyguard had reversed and was desperately floundering toward the water's surface. In a split second, John decided that he would swim as far towards the other side of the pool as possible and hope to put some distance between himself and the bodyguard. As he prepared to push off the bottom of the pool, he saw Sherlock struggling with another beefy bodyguard at the shallow end of the pool. And wait, was that blood? He began to swim in earnest towards Sherlock.

Sherlock was sure he had never felt such pain in his life. I'm such an idiot, he thought to himself. A bullet to the head would have been quick, painless even. But instead I decide to fight so that I can die a slow, painful death. What was I thinking?

He was pulled back to focusing on the present by additional pain. While Sherlock was down, leaning heavily against the side of the pool and gripping his head with his one good arm, the bodyguard managed to connect with his ribs, delivering a swift kick to Sherlock's side with his steel-toed boots.

Sherlock slipped to his knees, the water reaching his chin in the shallow water. He tried unsuccessfully to draw a deep breath, the pain in his side exploding ten fold as he tried to breathe. Before he could catch his breath, the bodyguard pulled him up again, slamming the back of his head into the pool's edge. This time, mercifully, the blackness overtook him and Sherlock could no longer feel any pain.

Sorry to be so cruel and end things on another cliffhanger, but I wanted to have a bit of suspense leading into the next chapter. What do you think so far? I've got another few chapters planned, but I'm depending on reviews to tell me whether you like it enough for me to continue. I promise there will be quite a bit of hurt/comfort goodness in future chapters as well as some fun Sherlock/John dialogue. Please review!