The characters of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson created by Sir Author Conan Doyle.
The setting of Sherlock (BBC) created by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.
I do not own these characters, I'm just borrowing them for this idea.
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The news reports were gruesome, but he couldn't take his brilliant eyes away from the anchorwoman. It was breaking news last week that there were cannibals eating peoples faces (I told John it was the start of something big) up and down the east coast, but they had been proven to be on drugs of some sort. This week the reports had drastically tripled in number and scale, with more reports coming in from the west coast and the no coasters (fascinating zom-what the?)
Sherlock turned to his friend when the television suddenly went dark. "John, there is something truly amazing happening around us and you, as a doctor, want to ignore it?" he questioned, seeing the remote control in John's hand. The disturbing news had been becoming increasingly distressing in the last few hours and it was all coming from America (been ignoring the news all week, determination to disregard what frightens him).
"Amazing!? You think that this news out of the States is amazing?" John protested, gesturing at the TV with the remote.
"Don't you? I would be a fascinating study if we could get our hands on one," Sherlock mused, eyes focused on the blank screen.
"Tah...fascinating. That is until it turned around and killed you, well maybe not you. I just... I can't imagine something like that happening over here. I don't want to," John added after a silent moment. Sherlock stared at his friend for several minutes. There was a haunted, faraway look in his eyes, almost scared.
"It frightens you, doesn't it?"
"Doesn't it you?" (classic way of dodging the answer)
"Only marginally. Though there is a high probability of the virus traveling over here from the States what with all the flights coming and going, though that's likely to stop shortly. If this is some sort of outbreak, they'll want to contain it as much as possible, like any sensible leader of the free world should do. But then there's potentially more to this than we've been told, with what hasn't been reported out of third world countries, but now that's going to change with word being broken out of America, reports of a similar sort will most assuredly begin to pour in from all over the world," Sherlock tried reassuring his friend, not realizing; or caring, that he was failing.
"You know." John shook his head solemnly at his flatmate. "Somehow that explanation doesn't entirely make me feel more comfortable. Jesus...zombies, I can't bloody believe it." He went silent, distant eyes fixed out the darkened windows of two two one b.
(fear, pain, flashbacks, this could be a very bad situation for someone like John) "You fear the prospect of war," Sherlock stated, making John's eyes dart to him. His brow furrowed as he tried to read the doctors face (was it something I said?) His tone had set John's eyes hard and suddenly Sherlock was seeing a John he had yet to meet.
"I am a soldier, Sherlock. I don't fear war." He stood from his chair; sliding it back several inches from his use of force, and walked to the windows overlooking Baker Street, parting the curtains.
"Then what is it?" Sherlock pushed gently from his own chair, turning to observe his flatmate.
"The panic and insanity that something like this is going to bring with it. If this does escape the States and infect other countries, as you so nonchalantly pointed out has most likely already come to pass, people will be killing each other left and right for a loaf of bread and some clean water. And those that don't have the stomach for death...are going to die slow and scared, possibly turning into one of those things in the process." John went quiet for several moments before speaking again, his voice as distant as his eyes (he's thought about this as a real possibility?). "People are going to panic, it's in a humans nature to panic, but when people panic extremely bad things happen to good, innocent people who have done nothing to deserve that sort of a fate," he sighed, turning back to Sherlock (more than once it seems).
"But dying is what people do, John."
"Thanks, Jim."
Sherlock looked aghast at John, almost unable to believe that phrase that had exited the doctor's mouth (don't you dare compare me to that spider). "Say that again?"
"You heard me. Moriarty said that exact same thing at the pool. I understand that dying is what people do. I've been privy to my fair share of it, enough to possibly last me two lifetimes, but that doesn't mean that I have to be cold, calloused, and calculated; like you, when it happens to innocent people." John turned back to the window as a soft rain began to fall (you mean like a machine).
"And if someone was trying to take something of yours?"
"Self defense, they wouldn't make it back out the door alive. I have no qualms about killing to protect those close to me, especially those who don't know how to fight," he added, thinking of Molly Hooper and Mrs. Hudson.
"And if it's one of them?"
"In a heartbeat. Bullet in the brainpan-"
"What if it was someone you knew?" Sherlock interrupted, stopping John's thought dead in its tracks. The paused before the doctor answered was long, longer than Sherlock would have liked (too bog of a heart, John Watson, it's going to get you in trouble)
"I'd like to say I'd be able to pull the trigger, but I can't know until I'm in that situation." His voice was deadpan, level, trained to sound calm even though his heart was reacting quite the opposite as John saw the scenes play out in his mind, it didn't end well for him so he decided to change the subject, sort of.
"If you died, would you want to come back as a reanimated corpse? Chewing on the flesh of the living, possibly of someone you knew?"
Sherlock smirked at the change (unable to do it, figures). "I wouldn't know I was doing it would I? They're essentially brainless. All they want to do is eat. It's their only real function and you can bet in the bigger cities they'll get just what they want, because people don't think when they're panicked."
"You've got a plan for all this?" John inquired. Sherlock's face tightened before he answered.
"Honestly, I've never thought about it before. The CDC; on more than one occasion, has said that a zombie apocalypse cannot feasibly happen. That it is impossible. But now here it is, staring us in the face." Sherlock gestured to the quiet television (impossibilities seem to happen a lot these days). "When have you thought about it at all?" he questioned tentatively (sometime when he's been away, not focusing on living).
"Heh. You tend to think of the strangest things when lying in a Vet Hospital waiting for your wounds to heal up," John admitted (bugger).
"So you have a plan?"
"Of sorts. A lot is very easy to get, so long as we get to it before the virus gets here, if it gets here," he added hopefully. "But yes, I have some idea of what we can do to keep ourselves safe from this. You'd have to be willing to do some heavy lifting though," John explained.
- To be continued... -