Prologue – Stranger than fiction
The blade is bloody and he has no bullets left. He doesn't see Bill, but he knows the other man can't be far off.
"Get back!" someone shouts. "Get back! NOW!"
He turns to run back to their base. Once, he looks over his shoulder, and the sight is horrifying. Hundreds of (slow) zombies moving towards them. Thank god their base hasn't been broken into.
But he knows it can't hold all of the zombies back if they don't start killing them again as soon as possible.
John Watson, an army doctor. John Watson, who had bad days. John Watson, who likes women and goes on dates but whose relationships are short. John Watson, whose sister is an alcoholic.
Sherlock can't stop deducing John. Sherlock can't stop being baffled by John.
Every time he thinks he's figured it all out, there's something new. Like now, John has been trying to find out Sherlock's opinion about zombies.
"You're always asking me about drugs. It's my turn. Are you high?"
John sighs and says: "Never mind." He has a magazine he's reading.
"No, seriously. Why are you so interested in zombies?" Sherlock asks, curiously, staring at John, trying to read him. There's a hint of something but Sherlock can't put his finger on it.
John turns his head to look at Sherlock. "Max Brooks explains zombies quite well in his books, you know. It's surprising how your brother has let the book into book stores. Probably so that if there really is an outbreak here, at least some people will know what to do."
Sherlock laughs. "John, you really can't believe in that stuff."
John turns his head back. Sherlock can see that he's annoyed by him. "I won't save you when London is attacked by zombies." He hums before adding: "Though knowing you, you'd just want to test them. And turn anyway." He doesn't add that were there a zombie attack, he wouldn't leave Sherlock's side – not even if the infuriating man was turned.
Sherlock wonders how John can sound so serious about zombies.