Author's Notes: Thank you for all your continued support, I will attempt to act on the comments I've received. Here's our next chapter, I really hope you enjoy! Please review or do other stuff because you're all awesome!
Within the hour, the jaded duo finally arrived in the new apocalyptic London. But everything was different. Buildings had been obliterated, dislocated bricks lying amongst the barren rubble; the place looked like a trash heap of steaming rubbish. The dismantled city was unrecognizable aside from distant remnants of the eye and big Ben, far from a beautiful sight to the sore which now gazed over the decrepit landscape.
"No…"John barely managed to keep himself from falling over, the horror piling on top of his former exhaustion. Meanwhile Sherlock just stood motionless, neutral mask firmly in place, but sorrow crawling under his skin. What a grand city London had been, and now what, a decaying wreck because of arrogant aliens who had chosen his planet for a hunt. Appalling. Sherlock soon became a raging volcano, pulling the agitated John behind him, and storming off on a seemingly random route!
"Mycroft! MYCROFT!" Sherlock's shouts echoed across the land like a siren, but no reply came from the lifeless rubbles. "MYCROFT!"
"Sherlock, what're you doing?" John asked privately, attempting to calm down his monstrous companion; Sherlock shrugged the smaller man off and continued his bellowing shrieks. "Sherlock! He can't hear you!"
"YES HE CAN! He hears everything!"
"Sherlock, we don't even know if anyone's still al-" The blonde was quickly shut of as Sherlock covered his mouth with a stuffy hand. Fire burning brightly in his eyes but softening as he met with John's concerned stare. They remained still, staring into each other's eyes like love struck teenagers. Suddenly, Sherlock pulled away, breaking the moment as awkwardness took over. Yet he couldn't ignore the butterfly which briefly fluttered in his stomach.
"We can't think like that John. Someone will be alive. You of all people know how much I despise asking my brother for help, but right now, he has to be able to hear me" The consulting detective's voice was low and dangerous, his glittering eyes continuing to scan the rubble around them for any sign of hope. "All of this has to be happening for a reason… There has to be something"
In all honesty, John pitied the taller genius. His brain was in such a flux and it wasn't as if John himself was helping very much. The doctor sighed, following the irked man as he weakly attempted to lift various slabs in search of something. Anything.
"Sherlock?" The weak voice ricocheted across the streets, but it was unmistakably Mycroft. Sure enough, the podgy figure marched over a broken stack and appeared in all his glory, suit pristinely in place alongside his well-groomed style. John gaped like a fish, at the sight of Sherlock's smug brother, whipping around to stare at his living figure. Sherlock, on the other hand, groaned (remembering just how much he hated his brother scrutiny) and hid any sign of relief at his family member safety. "You're alive!"
"Clearly…" Mycroft stared wide eyed as the duo climbed towards him, shaking hands with the now grinning doctor and sparing a tiny smile towards his own brother. Sherlock ignored this, choosing instead to breeze past and make his way down the hole which Mycroft had evidently emerged from. John sighed exasperetly, passing an apologetic smile to the eldest Holmes, who signaled nonchalantly for him to follow the storm.
They walked hastily through a confined alleyway, grime dripping thickly like blood from the ceiling, as the cold seeped underneath John's tanned skin and caused a shiver to rack his body. The trio eventually emerged from the path and found themselves in a chilly underground room, inside was a lone desk and set of ten ancient chairs. Upon which sat one very ruffled looking detective inspector.
"Greg!" John instantly engulfed his friend in a 'man hug', a warm feeling of safety swelling in his stomach and causing him to remain oblivious as Mycroft seemed to seize up behind them. Sherlock scoffed. But the warmth abruptly dissipated when the doctor felt the DI's spiky ribs digging sharply into his stomach, the man was a twig! They separated, a grin plastered on the inspector's face which stretched the bruise like shadows underneath his shimmering eyes.
"Good to see a friendly face, mate! Holmes here isn't exactly ideal company"
"Yeah, I guess not." John chuckled before Sherlock charged forwards, without warning, and pushed his lithe frame into one of the rotting chairs. Greg nodded quickly at the thunderous man.
"Sherlock"
"Lestrade. Can we please get down to business?" Sherlock mumbled antagonizing. Mycroft glided swiftly, settling next to his brother as John and Greg situated themselves directly opposite. The tension in the room suddenly seemed heavier, as an uncomfortable silence steeled in the room.
"What business are you talking about, Sherlock?"
"The business of our planet Mycroft!"
"Sherlock, our planet is in ruin, the population is dead! It's miraculous that we've all survived! No one has any idea what is going on!" Mycroft exclaimed noisily, glaring daggers at Sherlock from his seat. The tension escalated even higher between the six year olds, causing their companions to feel extremely awkward. Greg shifted uncomfortably on his stool, but John eventually sighed, coughed into his hand, and spoke.
"Actually, we do sort of have an idea about what's going on…"
"What?" Mycroft switched to glare incredulously at the doctor, allowing Sherlock to relax and smirk at his disbelieving brother.
"Yes actually, we do. John and I were abducted by a bunch of alien beings" Lestrade suddenly burst into laughter flooding the room with the somehow eerie quirk, Mycroft chuckled skeptically and settled back into his seat as John grumbled nearby. "I'm being serious!"
"Yeah, Sherlock, of course you were!" Greg could barely contain his laughs as rage flooded back into the consulting detectives jagged frame, it took all the man's will power not to slam the idiot into the wall and force the information into his thick skull.
"He isn't joking" The room dropped deadly silent at John's words. They echoed over the raw walls and drilled into the pink tipped ears of the observers, calming Sherlock, who immediately passed an affectionate nod towards the astute man.
"If you would actually like to listen this time…You will find that I only speak the truth. These creatures are indeed sentient, and cunning. You do not need to know the details of our time with them, but we have become aware that they possess a biological bomb, capable of destroying the remaining life on this planet once they have what they want. They're here looking for something, from my deductions, I believe they are searching for a special type of human, those able to defy nature with their abilities and they won't stop until they've found every single one of them" Lestrade and Mycroft stared quizzically at the consulting detectives, eyebrows blasting through the roof as they took in the mindboggling information.
"They're looking for superheroes!" Greg questioned, glaring bewilderedly at the man.
"Obviously not Lestrade, they're looking for advanced humans that they are probably responsible for creating in the first place!"
"So… Superheroes, with like superpowers." Greg asked as Mycroft simply gaped like a floundering child from the other side of the table, much to John's amusement, while Sherlock paced over the length of the room like a dog in it's unbreakable cage. "Sherlock, superheroes don't exist!"
"As I've said, not super heroes Lestrade, advanced super beings and they clearly do exist: John is one!" The DI instantly turned towards the hedgehog, who was now stuttering over his own words: he hadn't believed Sherlock would actually tell anyone about their discovery. "He can control the Earth element!" Unfortunately it was at this point which Mycroft chose to collapses onto the rickety table, banging his head into the solid wood. There went any hope of society coming back…
"John, seriously?" The smaller man hesitantly nodded, looking to Sherlock for assistance, before smiling tentatively at the detective inspector. Greg crumpled limply into his chair, panting and rubbing a frustrated hand through his matted hair. "You have got to be kidding me…"
"No, I can assure the two of you that we aren't joking in the slightest. I believe our new quest should be to find these people as it may be our only chance to get our planet back! Handing them over isn't an option anymore, we should begin immediately" The whole room seemed drained, excluding the determined Sherlock who practically leapt around like a toddler with a new toy. John groaned, pushing himself up and moving to stand next to the otter.
"Sherlock, maybe give them a break, it's going to be a lot to take in…" Sherlock nodded, passing sparing glances towards the duo before them, who both looked as if they'd been slapped by a giant. He glanced down at John, who smiled warmly towards the man. There was that peculiar fluttering again! The doctor guided Sherlock towards what appeared to be one of the back rooms, hoping to put as much distance between the four of them.
"You know, Molly said something about water…"
"What? Molly's here?" John instantaneously span around, charging back towards the mumbling DI, leaving the oblivious Sherlock to listen with his back turned. "Where?"
"Well, she went out earlier, something about needing some space. Come to think of it, she's been gone quite a long time; I was supposed to go looking before Mycroft found you!" Greg suddenly jumped up in panic, disturbing Mycroft from his head bashing. "She was saying about the water attacking her in the river, maybe your people were down there!"
Mycroft quickly regained his composure and casually turned to look at the steadfast Sherlock, standing to follow as he began trekking back towards the barren surface. John and Greg hurriedly clambered after them, stumbling in worry about the ginger girl. They crept straight through the gritty tunnel and eventually found the blinding light of the sun. They ambled out into the blinding light and remerged in the ruins of London.
"Greg, go South. I'll go North, Sherlock, go East and Mycroft, you take the West. Make sure you can still see somebody at all times, we need to find her." John shouted apprehensively as he began sprinting into his allotted space.
"STOP" Silence feel at Mycroft's words. The army doctor turned, to see Sherlock picking something from the rubble. John returned to his group of misfits, breathing ragged like a runner's as Sherlock eyes scanned the note. Swallowing, the genius turned the writing to face them, causing both Greg and John to whimper.
Lost someone -JM