When the door swung shut behind them, John didn't think much about it. Of course, he noticed afterwards, when he walked straight into Sherlock's back, that they'd just walked into an impossibly cramped closet and he'd really like to get out of it now. He was about to turn around to leave when there was a click and both he and Sherlock paused.

"... John, the door."

"I think-"

"No."

John tried the knob, finding it locked. "Uh... yes. We are. Locked in, that is. In a closet."

"This is not helping my night!" Sherlock retorted, voice pitching into an annoyed growl as he grabbed at the doorknob.

John sighed, trying to back away from Sherlock. There was very little room to go anywhere, maybe two feet to the right if he desired. Either way, he and Sherlock would still brush costs no matter if they were standing at the opposite ends of the closet. It was uncomfortable... although John suspected it could be worse. They could be stuck in a lift or a freezer or a sauna.

"Can't we... I don't know, kick it open?"

Sherlock sighed. "Don't be stupid. Didn't you see the lock?"

John opted not to say that he hadn't. He wasn't sure how that stopped them from kicking it open, but Sherlock probably knew best... Besides, Sherlock seemed a little annoyed right now and John did not want to anger the bull he had to sit in a closet with.

"Okay," he said, rubbing his gloved hands together for warmth. It was chilly. "Well, call Lestrade and maybe he can come and do the lock?"

"Just texted him," Sherlock muttered. He huffed and flopped down in a corner, drawing his knees to his chest.

John sighed and followed his example, crossing his legs.

It started with a sigh.

John didn't think much of it, Sherlock sighing. Sherlock was dramatic. He did things like that, sigh dramatically and flop himself over the furniture. It was very... Sherlock.

And then another sigh, slightly more breathless.

By the third, the sigh had turned into a little cough and John glanced towards him. "Okay, what's wrong?"

Sherlock didn't respond.

John squinted towards his face to make out the detective's features in the gloom. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath. "What?"

"What's wrong? You sound... odd."

Sherlock let out the breath he had just taken in a deep gust. "Fine."

Out of reflex, John reached out to press his hand against Sherlock's forehead. It wasn't warm, but he was covered in sweat. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

Sherlock leaned again. "Don't. I'm hot."

"It's not warm."

"I'm burning." Sherlock coughed again, doubling over slightly.

"Sherlock!" John moved over to him. "Sherlock, breathe, what's wrong?"

Sherlock waved his hand around. "The walls... not enough air... Can't breathe."

John frowned. Something about that statement clicked in his mind, but he would focus on it later. "Come on, breathe in. No, just do it with me. In." He took a deep breath and Sherlock seemed to mirror it. "Out."

He kept this regime up for a few more rounds until Sherlock's breathing was somewhat more of a semblance of proper.

"Okay?"

Sherlock sucked in another deep breath, closing his eyes as he exhaled. "Sort of."

"Just keep taking steady breaths. Can I take your pulse?"

Sherlock paused before holding his hand out. John smiled faintly and pulled the glove off, pressing his fingers gently against Sherlock's wrist.

"You're alright," John murmured. "I promise there's enough air. The ceiling goes up at least nine feet and fresh air is coming in between the cracks of the door. Lestrade will be here soon, anyway. We're both going to be fine."

"Just as the walls aren't actually closing in," Sherlock mumbled weakly. "But my mind plays tricks on me to make me think that they are."

"Claustrophobia," John said.

"Yeah, I know," Sherlock said in the same weak voice. "It's just inconvenient..."

John let go of his wrist. "I know. Just keep breathing, don't think about it. We'll be out soon and on with the case, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded slightly.

John returned to his spot against the wall, trying to give Sherlock as much space as possible. "I'm sorry that I'm in here with you. Wish you had more space."

Sherlock opened his eyes slightly. "I'm not. I'm glad you're here. I probably would work myself into a true panic attack if you weren't here to reign me in."

"Yeah, but I'm sure it would be less stuffy..."

"Hm." Sherlock dropped his head back against the wall with a thin sigh. "I don't find you stuffy at all."

The back of John's neck started to feel warm and he hoped that he wasn't blushing. It wasn't like there was anything particularly embarrassing about that statement, but... it was a compliment from Sherlock Holmes. Those didn't happen very often.

John chalked it off on the lack of oxygen and turned towards the door to wait, although a small smile played along his lips and he was helpless to push it away.

Kudos to EI Cochrane for the wonderful idea. I somehow manage to make these cute and fluffy (in my opinion) for being so short and with a panicky Sherlock. xD

Your thoughts? Thank you for the support!