Greg frowned, looking around the empty space that occupied the opposite side of the building.

What the fuck?

Sherlock had pointed to this side of the building, saying that the team was coming over here…

But they're nowhere to be seen.

Could Sherlock have just made a mistake?

He shrugged.

He's human. He makes mistakes too.

Greg turned, walking back around to the side where he had left Sherlock.

John was coming back from the woods at the same time, still zipping up his jeans. However, upon seeing their makeshift hideout, the doctor stopped, frowning. He looked up at Greg as the inspector walked towards him.

"Greg…" John raised his eyebrows.

"Where's Sherlock?"

Greg stopped cold at John's words and then, ever so slowly, turned the corner to see an empty lot.

What the…

"Oh…oh, my god…Greg…"

Greg turned towards John to see his face pale as he pointed a shaky hand up towards the very top floor.

What looked suspiciously like smoke began to drift out of the window closest to them.

Greg sighed and ran his hand through his graying hair.

"Well, we know where he is now."

The room was filling with smoke quite quickly, and for once Sherlock wasn't sure what to do.

Breaking down the door had been his first thought, but Bobby Brown had been very thorough in his preparations; the door, unlike the rest of the building, was brand new, and there was no way Sherlock could break it down with his limited resources. Even picking the lock proved impossible.

Sherlock stood up, back aching, coughing as the fire raged around him, filling the room with a thick haze.

There was only one more option.

The other window.

He had only one chance to get it. Sherlock knew what lay outside that window. If he didn't propel himself right, he would end up crashing headfirst into the rubbish and pavement below and crack his skull open like Bobby Brown had outside the other window. If he succeeded, he would land in the river that ran beside it and hope to avoid drowning and/or hypothermia. Not to mention crashing through the glass, which was sure to leave some injuries.

Or, he could stay here and be burned to death.

Overall, I'd say the river is the way to go.

The fire was all around him now. To get to the window, he'd have to run right through it; a rather dangerous thing to do.

Second degree burns probable, first degree definite, not to mention possible hypothermia from the low water temperatures…I will most likely need medical attention after this.

I do hope John is back now.

Sherlock took a deep breath and lined himself up with the window as well as he could. Then, he began to count.

3…

2…

1.

Sherlock ran as fast as he could for the window, feeling the flames leap hungrily around him, hoping against hope that he wasn't going to end up dead.

"What the fuck do we do?" John asked, panicking. "He could be up there…he could be trapped, Greg! What do we do?!"

Suddenly, a body broke through the window, sharp shards of glass flying everywhere. The person plummeted down in an arc next to the building to land in the river with a sharp splash, water covering their head.

"Oh my god. Oh my god." John said, voice panicky. "Is that…"

"Jesus Christ," Greg swore. He began to run towards the river, John following closely behind.

John ran right up to the edge, Greg crouching nearby on the bank. Sherlock still had not surfaced.

"Come on, love…" John said, voice breaking. "Please…"

There was no sign of the detective.

"Fine, you difficult bastard," Greg muttered. He stripped off his coat and handed it to John. "Be back in a moment."

Greg dived into the water, the cold seeping into his bones, as John stood there helplessly, worried out of his mind.

Greg's eyes took a moment to adjust to the silty water of the river, stinging slightly.

Where is he?

There.

Sherlock was slowly sinking towards the bottom of the river, unconscious, curls floating softly around his pale white face.

Greg swam down as fast as he could, grabbing Sherlock around the waist, and began to swim back to the top, all his memories of being on the swim team at uni coming back suddenly.

Pull, kick…pull, kick…

Finally, Greg broke the surface of the water, pushing Sherlock up towards the bank. John reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hands, pulling him up onto the firm ground. Greg swam to the shore as John pulled off his coat and wrapped Sherlock in it, squeezing water out of his inky-looking curls.

Greg pulled himself up onto the bank and grabbed his coat, wrapping himself in it as his teeth chattered.

John was leaning over Sherlock, shaking him slightly.

"Wake up, love, please…come on…stay with me…"

Suddenly, Sherlock's eyes flew open and he sucked in a great breath, then turned over and vomited up water onto the ground. John held him carefully, rubbing his back and arms to warm him up.

Sherlock turned back over, small cuts on his face from the glass spilling blood down his porcelain cheeks. John wiped away the blood gently and kissed his blue lips, wrapping his warm arms around the detective.

"S-s-sorry, J-j-John…" Sherlock said miserably, teeth chattering. "I w-w-was only t-trying to h-h-help…"

"Oh, love…" John said tenderly. He rubbed his hands up and down Sherlock's arms and then wrapped him in a tight embrace, kissing his cheek gently.

"I know."