Sorry for the super-late update. Among other things, I've had a bunch of shit to deal with these last few weeks so writing hasn't really been at the front of my mind.

I was actually going for something more graphic in those last chapters but it didn't play out. I'll try harder next time. Also I forgot about 28 Days Later with the 'zombies in London' thing but since they're not technically zombies it's probably an acceptable mistake...

I HAVE REVIEWS! *falls onto ground in Wayne's World style 'We're-not-worthy' pose*

SeverusDmitri18: s'probably going to get a bit heavier over the next few chapters...

Ganondorf-Lover: they're going to be in it more soon :)

"What in the name of god have you been doing in here?!"

"We've been removing Detective Inspector Lestrade's arm, what does it look like?"

"Why?!"

"I was bitten." Lestrade whispered barely audibly.

Mycroft stared down at Lestrade's pale face then whirled round to face his brother.

"So you decided to do an experiment on a respected detective inspector?" He said in a tone that was at least half horror. John had never heard Mycroft use so much emotion that wasn't his usual smugness.

"Would've died..." Lestrade murmured, passing out before he could finish the thought.

John's heart skipped a beat and he cursed. "He's gone into shock."

"I wish I could bring myself to be surprised." Mycroft said, quickly recomposing himself and glaring at his brother.

"It was my idea, Mycroft," John fought the urge to make his own irritable remark and lost. "And before you start, I'd love to hear what you would have done. Maybe left him outside to get eaten?"

Mycroft tried to say something then obviously thought better of it, sitting down at the chair opposite the one covered in blood, pushing several of Sherlock's experiments out of the way.

"Well done, Doctor Watson." He said very quietly, his voice solemn. The older Holmes seemed to sink into his thoughts, leant on the table with his head resting in his hands.

Sherlock turned and stared at John, mouthing 'well done?' with an expression of disbelief.

Donovan coughed quietly.

"What now?" Sherlock snapped.

"Aren't you going to do anything with..." Donovan gestured at the severed arm on the floor with a vaguely disgusted expression.

"That might actually be a good idea, Sherlock." John said with the usual mild sarcasm he had to use with his friend, wandering towards the stairs to get a blanket for Lestrade from upstairs.

Sherlock picked up Lestrade's arm by the hand, revelling in Donovan's obvious disgust. He pulled the blood-caked watch from the wrist and dropped it in a clear spot on the table between experiments He'd need all the blood samples he could get from Lestrade and whatever zombie had bitten him.

Sherlock wandered into the kitchen and shuffled around the objects in the fridge, making a gap between various jars of jam and other things and dropped the arm onto a shelf. John would be angry but if he was going to have any chance of curing this plague like he said he would, Sherlock needed something to base the research on. Maybe he actually would be able to do something about this, no matter how small the chance.

Several Hours Later

Sebastian yawned quietly and noticed Molly looking at him from the passenger seat, concerned.

"Are you ok?"

"'M fine." He muttered with another yawn, keeping his eyes on the dark country road ahead of the ambulance. They'd been driving in an uncomfortable silence for several hours and Sebastian had had a long few days. He wanted to lay down somewhere with a decent film and drink until he passed out but he had to get to Jim's house way out in the middle of Devon before he could do that. It was taking the piss to get there. At least there weren't enough people out here for there to be enough zombies to be a threat to Jim.

"Um... Do you want me to drive for a while?"

"Nah. Nearly there now." He shrugged, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand. He looked into the distance to a large, black shape silhouetted against the dark blue sky. Finally.

Sebastian was tempted to put his foot down and go as fast as he could the rest of the way to the old manor house but he restrained himself. God only knew what would be on these roads at night and he didn't want to risk hurting Jim any worse.

His eyes left the twisting road for a second to glance back at Jim. He didn't look better or worse for the rough journey and Sebastian sighed before looking back at the road. Some part of him hoped that there'd be some change to the younger man's condition after being brought out of the sterile, boring environment of the hospital but still there was nothing. No change, as usual.

Molly's gaze followed his to look at Jim. Her eyes widened with a mixture of shock and horror when she recognised him.

"Oh." She said in a very quiet, terrified voice.

John sighed. He'd known from the second Mycroft had looked up from those hours of silent thought that whatever he was about to say would be trouble. Sherlock had chosen to completely blank out his brother and continue with whatever strange experiment he was doing with blood from Lestrade's arm so the older Holmes had chosen to irritate John instead.

"And how do you know this theory of yours has worked, Doctor Watson? How do you know that he isn't going to turn anyway?"

"I don't," John sighed. "But he'd cut off the circulation in his arm and it was still a fairly short amount of time since he was bitten when we found him."

"Now you see why I'm being perfectly reasonable in asking you to restrain him."

"The infection hasn't spread. If it had, he would have died by now, according to Sherlock." Who'd been working the entire time his brother had been sulking, which made a change.

"And my brother is an expert on this subject?"

"Not an expert no, but he seems to know more than you."

Mycroft gave him a cold, analytical stare for a few seconds. "You were in the army. If they'd caught a terrorist, no matter how injured, you wouldn't just leave them in bed. You'd tie them there."

"Greg isn't our enemy." John said quietly, knowing he'd lost.

"Those creatures outside are. Do you think hope can stop him from turning?"

John glared up at Mycroft. "I won't let you kill him."

"I was never going to ask you to," Mycroft said, shaking his head as if he was talking to a misbehaving child. "I simply asked you to restrain him. Both DI Lestrade and Sergeant Donovan presumably have a pair of handcuffs, not to mention whatever Sherlock will have stolen from both of them in the past."

John nodded grudgingly. It wasn't a particularly outrageous request, in fact John would have probably done it himself eventually, but he hated the fact that Mycroft was right.

"Fine. Lock him up." He said quietly to avoid Donovan hearing. "You're the one who's going to have to keep an eye on him though, I have other things to do."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and started to say something but noticed the murderous look in John's eyes and stopped before he could infuriate the former-soldier any more. He nodded curtly. "Fine."

More AN: my friend has threatened me about killing characters. I'm genuinely scared so MOST of them won't die...