Author's Note: Did anyone else notice the plot hole of Sherlock not being at all wet at the end of the episode, after he saved John? He threw John the rope but must have gone down there, too- John was chained to the wall. I've taken it upon myself to write that scene, as you can probably guess :)

The audio echoing in the well John was in had been quiet for a long time. He hadn't stopped yelling for Sherlock, though his voice was getting hoarser and weaker as he was forced to use his energy for other things.

Things like clinging to the slippery side of the well and keeping his head above the water as it rose higher and higher.

His fingers cramped and John's grip slipped. He slid under the churning water for a second, letting his limbs relax. The world went quiet, murky and muffled in the depths. Hopelessness slammed into him like a truck and John squeezed his eyes shut.

Where was Sherlock? His best friend had saved him dozen's of times. From kidnapping, from gunpoint, from psychopaths... from himself. Where was he now?

Desperately needing air, John pushed himself back up to the surface. The chain attached to his leg went taught. John felt a flash of panic. He didn't have much more time.

"Sherlock!" he bellowed, arms trembling with effort as he griped the side of the well. "SHERLOCK! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

There was a soft splash. John blinked as water sprayed in his eyes. It was a rope.

Another, larger splash sent a wave in John's face. Water gushed into his mouth and nose and John sank, flailing and coughing.

Arms secured around his waist, heaving him upward. John's leg pulled as the chain went tight, but his face was still able to break the surface.

He gasped for breath, coughing and spluttering. A gigantic sneeze forced itself out of him, somewhat relieving the uncomfortable feeling of water up his nose. His throat ached.

"Bless you," a familiar, deep British baritone said. John could feel Sherlock chuckling slightly.

"Thanks," John panted, wet head lolling onto Sherlock's shirt, grip tightening around his shoulders. "Wasn't sure if you were coming."

"Of course I was coming," Sherlock grumbled. His hands moved up John's back a little in what could have been a hug. "I just had to find a rope."

"Right," John wheezed out a laugh. "Right, of course." He shut his eyes, breathed evening out. He was more tired then he had been in a very long time.

"Concentrate for a moment, please," Sherlock commanded. John leaned back, squinting in the dark. Sherlock looked awful and beaten, and like he'd been crying. "I need you to tell me what ankle the chain is on."

"Uh..." John's fuzzy mind took a second to clear. "Uh, right. My right. Your left. But how-?"

Sherlock pulled his hand out of the water, away from John's back, and waved a piece of metal in the air. "Lock picks! Never leave home without them."

He let go of John's waist and dove neatly under the water. John hurriedly grabbed onto the wall again, left to wonder exactly what else Sherlock never left home without.

He felt hands around his ankle and resisted the urge to panic and kick out. It was just Sherlock. His hands fiddled around John's foot, working on the lock.

He struggled upward against the rising water, arms beginning to tremble again. John honestly didn't see how Sherlock could go this long without air. It was probably another one of his strange, hidden talents that he had developed before he met John.

There was a moment of panic as John could no longer go any farther up the wall. His mouth and nose were covered and he thrashed, almost pulling his leg out of it's socket. Desperately tilting his head back at an uncomfortable angle, John sucked in a last breath of air and went under.

He wasn't under for long. John felt the chain's grip suddenly loosen and Sherlock shot out of the water, grabbing John and dragging him with him. Both of them sucked in large mouthfuls of air.

Sherlock definitely hugged John this time, tightly, face buried in the older man's hair. John shut his eyes, letting out a slow breath. "It's okay," he murmured, rubbing his hand across Sherlock's soaked coat. "It's okay."

Sherlock cleared his throat thickly and pulled back. "Do you think you can climb?"

"Huh?"

"The rope." Sherlock nodded at it, and John found he had forgotten it was even there. "Do you think you can climb?"

John took stock. His arms were trembling and he was shivering so hard that his teeth rattled. He shook his head. "I- no. I don't think so."

Sherlock nodded shortly. "Okay. I suspected that. Get on my back."

"What?" John stared at him incredulously. "Sherlock, you can't honestly believe that you're going to be able to carry us both-"

"Get on my back," Sherlock repeated, glaring at him. "Before I loose even more strength."

John hurried to comply, wrapping his aching arms around Sherlock's shoulders as his friend began to climb the rope.

It was slow going. Sherlock used his feet as much as he could but John could feel his body shaking with the strain. John was worried- if Sherlock's arms gave out and they fell and somehow didn't die, they would probably drown. John couldn't see himself being able to hold unto the side of the well for long enough that the water would rise all the way to the top, and he doubted Sherlock could, either.

As they reached the top the well, Sherlock got a last surge of energy. He lifted both he and John over the edge and they collapsed, heaving for breath.

John laid back on the cold, solid ground and shut his eyes. He would be perfectly content to fall asleep right there if he wasn't so bitterly cold.

He felt Sherlock beginning to shift beside him; could feel his friends breath coming in pants and his arms trembling as they the brushed his.

"John?" He heard Sherlock murmur, voice rough from fatigue. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," John breathed out, reached toward Sherlock and grabbing his hand, squeezing it tightly. "How 'bout you?"

"I'm..." Sherlock paused, and John could hear him considering whether to tell the truth or act like everything was fine. "I'm getting there."

It wasn't long before police and paramedics swarmed the premises. They brought Euros away and locked her up in a police car to take back to the city. Sherlock watched her go with his face creased in thought.

"She'll be alright," John said, walking up next to him. A paramedic had given him a heated blanket and it was wrapped around his shoulders, soft and tight.

Sherlock's arm joined it, pressing John into his side.

He didn't need to say anything else.

Author's Note: AHHHHH... I wrote this all the way back when I finished the seriesss... then forgot to post, whoops XD