Next few days passed peacefully. John had forgiven Sherlock when Sherlock promised to lay off the drugs. Excluding the cigarettes of course. Their home had quite a decent fortification at this stage, a tall wooden fence surrounding the gardens with a ladder being the only entrance to their safe haven. Any person could climb over the fence if they tried but a walker would just continuously bump into it until John or Sherlock disposed of it. There were no people to climb over it. When the fence was completed they were pretty proud of it. Sherlock especially. He'd walk around it checking it for any weak spots. Through their constant use of teamwork over those days a strong bond began to form between the pair. The office became their planning room and experiment laboratory, Sherlock insisted that he needed the kitchen for his experiments as he needed to be close to water but John was having non of that. The walls of the room were pinned with diagrams, test results and maps. Sherlock waiting for an experiment to finish began to pace the room, before stopping at the wall.

"So.." said Sherlock looking at the now very red map. "What should we do now?"
"Relax maybe?" replied John the couch. Sherlock looked at his friend from across the room in horror. "Relax? Dull. No let's do something exciting!"
"Exciting? What could we possibly do that is exciting here?" John reached across the coffee table and picked up the nearest book. Treasure Island. How he missed the internet, he missed his blog. It was very boring he'll admit but still he enjoyed writing in it. Sherlock begans pacing around the room in frustration again. He ran out of cigarettes yesterday, and john refused to go searching for more.
"We could go out, explore the other side of the village!" he exclaimed, his hands swinging madly.
"You're mad! That part is filled with infected and no offence but you can't even handle the small few around here." says John opening his book. Noticing Sherlock had fallen silent he began to read the book. It was an old book but kept in good condition. "The owner must of cared for this a lot." thought John "I wonder who it was." He opened the cover to see the name Sherlock Holmes scrawled across it in a child's handwriting.
"Oh this is yours?"
"Yup."
"Do you mind if I read it or-"
"No you can read it. I don't mind." With that John began to delve into the story.

Only three pages in and John had the uncomfortable feeling of being stared at, taking a quick glance from the novel he saw Sherlock staring down at him.
"Do you mind?" asks John slightly irritated, Sherlock did say he could read the book after all. "You did say I could read this."
"Read it later. Come on." Sherlock tore the book from Johns hand, to which John jerked up angrily.
"Sherlock what the hell-"
"Teach me."
"What?"
"Teach me how to fight, them." Sherlock's throat got very dry, he knew how to fight them. He wasn't the perfect fighter but he was suffice enough. He just needed to get out and stop thinking. John notice Sherlock's discomfort.
"Okay grab your gear."

Both men were standing in the late autumn's sun each carrying a gun, a knife and their primary weapon. John's crowbar and Sherlock's axe. Originally Sherlock wanted to bring just the gun the butterfly knife but John insisted that the axe was better. The two men, looked rather well in their gear with John wearing a dark coat with jeans and Sherlock in a sooty trench-coat and black trousers, they set out.

In a world ruled by the undead, finding one is no difficult task at all. They encountered their first target within minutes.
"Okay so one quick swipe to the head-"
"I know John."
"Well if you want me to teach you then listen." The undead monster shuffles closer to the pair. "If you miss back off and get your balance, don't go for another swing straight after. Put all your strength into each blow."
Sherlock gritted his teeth and tightened his grip around his weapon.
"Now wait until he's just within arms reach and.. GO!"
The blade meets it's target and the creature froze in it's path. Sherlock quickly withdrew his weapon from his successful kill and turns to face John fighting the smile that appeared on his face. John on the other hands was paying attention to a dried bloodstain on the tarmac.
"Where did they go?"
"What go?"
"The bodies. You know of the pair that we killed earlier."
Sherlock turned around and walked towards a walker crawling out of the ditch. Without a second thought he lodged his axe right into the center of its skull and then continued down the road.

The continued this training until both men were lying exhausted outside an abandoned music shop. Slumping against the wall they caught their breath.
"That... was.. pretty... amazing." pants John.
He's stunned at how quickly Sherlock caught on. Sherlock smiling at the compliment, suddenly jumped up and entered the shop.
"Quickly John there's something I need in here and I need your help." John instantly followed Sherlock into the building.
"What could you possibly need in here?" questioned the doctor.
"You'll see." replied Sherlock scanning through the instruments. He turned the corner to see the remains of a human lying on the floor. Sherlock steped over the corpse when it suddenly grabbed hold of his ankle causing him to crash into the shelves. Sherlock trapped under the wood began to panic
"Calm. Stay calm." he thought to himself. He wasn't letting fear take over him again. Not this time.

The monsters jaw extends as hes prepares to take a chunk out of Sherlock's leg. A swift kick in the face from Sherlock, sent it back a few inches, using his time he pulled out his gun and aimed for the brain. Smash. A crowbar appeared in the middle of the zombies head with an angry John behind it. John quickly pulled the now dead corpse away from Sherlock and hoisted up the end of his trousers.
"Are you okay? Did it touch you? You better tell if it had because it's going to be too late if you don't say anything."
"I'm fine, I could of handled it." said Sherlock lifting off the debris pinning him down.
"Not if you pulled the trigger, we'd be surrounded in minutes if you had." He helped Sherlock off the ground. Sherlock, not thanking his savior just turned his back to him. John feeling a little hurt by this headed towards the CD's. Disregarding this, Sherlock spotted what he was searching for, reacheed over the counter and selected a violin. He'll thank John later with this. His fingers trembled as he brush them along the wood of the instrument. A smile spread across his face as he inspected it.
"Just like the one at Baker Street." he muttered.
"Huh?" says John as he spoted the violin. "Oh I never knew you play."
"All the time."
"Can I hear?" asked John stupidly, knowing that they couldn't make a sound here.
"When we get home." Home. Neither of them called it home, it was always the house but when Sherlock said home, it felt right. John smiles back.
"Yeah let's go hom-" BANG. A gunshot was heard near the building. The two men hurried to the exit to see who was out there, Sherlock stops mid-pace as soon as he recognised the shooter.