Sherlock was having issues getting down to Third Class, the mass of panicked people where like in impenetrable wall that he had to force himself through. Pushing and shoving he managed to find himself on the descending stairway. Sweat clung to his brow as he removed the burdening life vest to move about better. A few weeping children were clinging to their mothers as he shuffled past, taking the steps three at a time.


Mike and John were holding Molly in their arms as another contraction hit her, forcing her to bury her head in the crook of Stamford's neck and cry. Water was filtering through their room and it was up to their knees now. Their corridor was abandoned and John thought back to how he had pondered the whitewashed walls would look like something from a horror movie. He had been correct.

"Where do we go?" Mike asked him as they waded through the water.

The soldier huffed, readjusting his hold on Molly, who was again in pain. "Jesus, just take us somewhere there's no water!" he demanded, short on patience. They started moving quickly up the hallway, John noticed that the floor was tilting; it felt as if they were walking up a low incline. Panic knotted and twisted harder in his stomach.

Overhead, the lights flickered. Molly whimpered, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I'm scared." She whispered.

John looked at her, sorrow for their situation overcoming him momentarily. "No need to be Molly, someone just left their bath running a bit too long." He reassured her with a sad attempt at a smile.

She opened her mouth to say something but another contraction his her. Stamford was apprehensive, gaze flitting up to the other doctor. "They're getting closer, she must be dilating." He said as they finally made it out of the water, finding themselves in the dining hall.

"Set her on a table!" he ordered, the lights faded out, leaving them in complete darkness.

Sherlock swore, he had come in the wrong way, water was rising fast and he turned tail to flee back up the steps. Masses of Third Classers were surging against him. "John!" he shouted, adding his voice to the sea of noise.

The crowd was thinning and the detective guessed he nearing the end of it as he squirmed free. Breaking into a fully fledged run he bolted down the hallway, allowing memory to guide him. The sconces were emitting low light and the ship moaned eerily bouncing the noise off of the hallway. "JOHN!" he shouted as loud as he could, finding a recognizable stairwell and bounding down it

The ship was tilting and water had accumulated on one end of the hallway, Sherlock's heart caught in his throat as he saw John's room was well underwater. "JOHN!" he bellowed again, going the other way, hoping to find him along the way.


John's head snapped up as he worked over Molly, hearing his name reverberating in the hallway. He looked to Mike, who frowned before shrugging. The pregnant woman had tears flowing freely down her face, shaking her head from side to side. "I'm not ready, I can't do this." She whined.

The army doctor opened his mouth to speak when a new, but familiar voice spoke up. "John!" all head turned to see a haggard looking Sherlock Holmes standing in the doorway to the dining hall, chest heaving. John's heart leapt, mouth hanging open. The Holmes stepped forward, sweat plastered to his forehead, he looked completely dry. "You've all got to get out of here!" he gasped. "The ship is sinking! There are lifeboats above on the deck! Hurry!"

Stamford motioned to Molly, who was clenching her jaw. "We can't haul her up all those stairs! She's in labor for Christ's sakes!" Mike exclaimed.

John looked to Sherlock, whose eyes hadn't left his face. "Sherlock and I will go get someone to help, okay?" he told his friend, who nodded slowly. "Yes, we'll go find help and then we'll bring you on up alright Molly?"

The woman said nothing, her face red from her effort not to scream. The Holmes was already moving towards the doors. "This way!" he called, turning the corner immediately, John followed, but stopped when he saw the wall of water on the other end of the tilted hallway. Sherlock grabbed his hand and twisted his fingers inside the doctors. "Come on, stopping to stare at the sights won't save anyone!" he persisted.

Watson ran with him, not letting go of his hand as they fled up the stairs. "I'm sorry!" he huffed, trying to keep up. "I'm sorry for what I said to you."

"You're forgiven, completely and utterly forgiven." The detective said. The ship lurched and both collided painfully with the wall, forcing them to stop.

John looked into the other man's eyes and saw determination. "I want to stay with you." He blurted.

Sherlock gazed back steadily before crushing the doctor into a fleeting kiss, water was lapping at their shoes, reminding them of the ticking clock. "I don't want to leave you." He replied, smiling faintly. "Now come with me."

"Did you come back for me?" he asked as they navigated the hallways with slow precision.

"No I decided to stroll along Third Class for the hell of it." Sherlock retorted. "Of course I came back for you! Did you not listen when I boldly said I wanted you and only you?"

John reached for the detective's hand as they heard shouting and screaming up ahead. Moving faster they halted to find a mob of people flooding the stairwell. Third Class and Second Class all pushed forward, trying to get ahead of one another. The voices all rose in unison, yelling about their god given rights to survive.

Attendants were trying to push them back and several burly men were trying to remove them from the people's way. A gunshot rang out from everywhere and everyone ducked, screaming as a child fell to the floor dead.

"You killed her!" someone shrieked, and then the top erupted in fighting. Sherlock squeezed John's hand, looking at him. A man came banging past, trying to take the space the doctor was occupying by force.

"Move over!" he demanded, an insane look in his eyes.

"I can't!" John replied, struggling to fit him in.

The noise died as suddenly as it began, Titanic heaved and John heard a loud crack before turning to see a wall of water rushing towards them. Sherlock pulled him to his chest and looked down to meet his eyes. "Hold your breath and push off the floor!" he instructed urgently.

No one could have prepared him for how cold it was. It felt like a million little knives were poking him everywhere, he gasped and then realized there was no air to inhale as water began filling his lungs. The detective clamped a hand over his nose and mouth before shoving off hard against the floor and they broke the surface, heads brushing the ceiling.

John wretched into the water and Sherlock held him steady, his eyes unreadable. "We need to get to the decks." He said

"Molly and Mike!" the doctor began to protest but his lover gave him a pointed glare. Then understanding dawned, however painful. They were at least two flights of stairs above his friends, and if water was up here than that meant the lower levels were filled. He shook his head. "No, he helped her up, they're fine." He insisted. "He needs help, we need to go back and help him!" tears were pricking his eyes. "She's in labor Sherlock, she's having a baby right now!"

The detective looked sorrowful as he wrapped his arm under the doctor and began swimming towards the top of the stairs which were in shallower water. "She's not in labor anymore John." He murmured. The soldier buried his head in his hands when they were done dragging themselves out of the freezing water. "There's nothing we can do for them now, but we can still survive!" Sherlock's words reached John through a haze of misery.

"Can you believe this? I survived two full tours around Afghanistan and now I'm going to die on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?" the doctor was in hysterics. "Those damned Afghani assassins couldn't get to me but some cold water will do me in."

Freezing fingers and chilled lips tried to comfort him and John leaned into Sherlock's kisses, closing his eyes and trying not to weep. "We need to keep moving." He whispered to the doctor. "We have each other, and we need to keep going until we're safe on one of those life boats."

John nodded, picking himself up off of the staircase and allowing his lover to lead him up onto the First Class floors. "We'll need to go through the dining room." He added. "The ship's tilted and any other way on that side will be flooded."

Sherlock looked over his shoulder. "Yes, yes. Through the dining room then." He stated.


The china was scattered all over the floor and some pieces broken underfoot as the two men fled through the room. Water was pouring through the other entrance and they halted, the grand staircase was their only way through and it was flooding. It seemed that everyone was already above deck, only a few First Class men were loitering about, splashing in the water, calling for brandy.

Sherlock looked at John, for the first time the thought of him dying snuck into his head. What if he were to die tonight? How would he die? In a riot to reach the last lifeboat or from inhaling water? Would he die alone or with John?

The soldier saw his expression and shook his head. "Not today Mr. Holmes, let's go, quickly." His voice wasn't shaky at all and rang with newfound determination. John had to live, he needed to make it to America, he needed to tell Molly's father that she had gone down with the ship like a brave young woman. He needed to open up his clinic for Mike, and write to his family. He needed to stay with Sherlock, he promised he would.

They fought the heightened incline of the ship and make it to the staircase, hurrying to climb the steps and make it up to the deck. Sherlock tripped and fell, wheezing painfully as he did so. John stopped, crouching to aid him. "My ribs." He complained.

"I'll fix you when we reach the deck, come alone now!" the doctor said urgently, pulling him up to almost collide with a well dressed, yet serious faced man.

Sherlock looked up and seemed to recognize him. "Ah, yes you're Mr. Adler's valet…" he frowned, searching for a name. "Moran! Yes, Mr. Moran please could you help us up to the deck?" he asked, clutching his chest.

The man shook his head slowly. "Miss Adler has said that you will not be joining them above deck." A cruel smile cracked his lips. "She doesn't see what need you could be to her family anymore and what's two more bodies added to Titanic's casualties? Maybe I'll even drop you off in Third Class to make it look like you died in a fight or something."

John's eyes widened and he skittered back, as soon as he saw Moran reaching inside his jacket. "Sherlock run!" he shouted.

The first bullet whizzed right by the detective's ear.


AN: The end is most likely two chapters away, I don't know because I just write and then post so everything updated today was written today.

Review! Love you all 5ever!