Love you all for the continued support!

Chapter 21

Normally, things didn't hurt nearly as much as every last part of John's body currently did. He was also sure that every one else was in a hell of a lot of pain as well – especially Sherlock. The forest was getting nearer and nearer, but the wind was just getting stronger and stronger.

"John," Sally had to yell just to be heard by John, walking a metre away from him,

'Yeah?" he called back,

"I don't think he's going to make it!" John looked at Sherlock, resting in between them. His breaths were shallow, and his cheeks were flushed, a fever that was creeping higher and higher taking control of his body. He wasn't even able to carry his own weight anymore,

"Sherlock," John shook him gently as their little party came to a halt, drenched, with thunder in their ears and lightning their only source of light, despite the approaching dawn.

The detective's eyes opened slightly and settled on John, "Yeah?" it was barely heard,

"Sherlock, how are you feeling?" Lestrade and Moriarty had moved closer so as to actually hear what was going on and Hope was sitting in the dead centre of their circle. The detective just shook his head, is ebony curls falling in his face. John bit his lip as he thought. They had no idea how far away the nearest village was, the wether was getting colder and colder and they were tiring by the minute,

"You were right, Greg," said John, looking at Lestrade,

"About what?" the DI looked a little happier at being told he was right for the first time,

"We'll move faster if we separate,"
"Sherlock's in no state to go anywhere," Sally said, finding herself rather protective of him, which was strange, because thirty two hours ago, she had been bullying Sherlock along with the rest of the yard,

"My point exactly," John's breath caught on the last word and he elapsed into a coughing fit, bringing Sherlock to his senses. He took more of his weight and leant against Sally, watching John with worried eyes as Lestrade thumped his back. John sucked in a large breath, and knew now, for sure, his leg was infected,

'Are you alright?" Sherlock rasped, red-rimmed eyes locking onto John's

'Yeah, fine," John panted, "as I was saying," He looked at all of them, "Sherlock and I should stay behind, you three go on ahead," immediately, everyone started talking at once. John silenced them with a look, "No arguments," he said, "Every step Sherlock takes is making his heart beat faster. Whatever poison has accumulated on that wound is spreading, and walking is not helping him. I have to stay with him because I am chained to him, and you three are all fit enough to go on, through that forest and find a village,"

'How do we find our way back here?" asked Sally, watching as Sherlock moved his weight off her and onto John,

"You won't need to," said John, 'we're sitting in the middle of nowhere," He motioned with his arm in a round circle to enunciate his point. They were walking through another field; just grass and hills, stretching for kilometres in every direction except in front of them, "The chopper will spot us here, if we go into the forest we will not make it back out into the open fast enough,

'You'll be exposed to the elements," said Sally and John gave a hollow laugh,

"It doesn't actually get much more exposed than we currently are," he said, his tawny eyes the brightest things in the dark, gloomy skies that surrounded them. Lestrade stared into those eyes and found what Sherlock had seen. A spirit that would never leave you when you needed someone there for you. Someone who had seen it all and lived to tell the tale…Lestrade broke the eye contact and sighed someone who will love you unconditionally. His eyes fell on Sherlock, leaning on John, needing the man for support,

"Alright," Lestrade agreed suddenly, and Sally turned to him,

"What?"

'We'll go," he said, and John nodded,

'Sally, we'll be fine," he said, even though he knew that there was a very small chance of that,

"I don't want to leave," Sally said, the childish words leaving her mouth before she could think them through and John smiled, pulling her into a hug,

'You need to," Wiping away her tears, that mixed with the icy rain, she nodded and turned over to face Lestrade and Moriarty, 'Let's go," she said, and without any further ado, she walked off, though the mud, "Sally!" John called, and she turned, "Take Hope!" John looked down at the pup and nodded towards Sally, 'Go on, get going," he said and the pup ran off, towards Sally, who crouched down to greet her, as she waited for Lestrade and Moriarty,

'We'll be back," said Lestrade, taking John's attention away from Sally and walking forward, John smiled at him, and then, suddenly, Lestrade pulled both the doctor and the detective into a bear hug. The detective was surprised, but managed to raise his arm to pat Lestrade on the back,

'You heard him," said Sherlock, 'we'll be fine." Lestrade nodded, not trusting himself to say anything, before turning and walking with Moriarty, who spared Sherlock and John one last glance before following Lestrade and Sally, up ahead.

As they left, disappearing into the uncertain grounds ahead, Sherlock slumped to the ground; his feet going out from underneath him and John fell on top of him, knocking the breath out of the man. They lay like that, on top of each other; both with their eyes closed and just enjoyed the feeling that they didn't have to move anymore, when Sherlock was the first to break the silence that had fallen,

"You're leg is infected," he stated and John opened his eyes, staring at Sherlock dumbfounded,

"How the hell did you know that?" he asked and Sherlock chuckled,

"I know things John," the detective closed his eyes and leant back,

"Of course you do," said John, freeing one hand and laying it on the man's forehead,

"You're pretty sick yourself, Sherlock," John replied, attempting to keep Sherlock awake.

The grass tickled the nape of Sherlock's neck as he lay there, staring up at the sky and then John's face as he moved it into the view of the liquid metal eyes, 'Sherlock," he started but Sherlock raised a hand. "Listen, John," he said, and the doctor did so. There was nothing except falling rain,

'To what?" John whispered, those eyes, the eyes that had been in numerous – no wait –countless dreams, staring into the older man's. Sherlock raised his head so that his lips were a millimetre away from John's lips. He waited, John's breath warm on his face, then closed his eyes and covered the distance.

It had taken all of John's restraint to let Sherlock do the waiting and as John stayed still, allowing Sherlock to maintain that light pressure, he was sure no amount of torture could compare to having Sherlock right here. In front of him. There for the taking. And yet so unobtainable. John opened his eyes that he didn't even know he closed as Sherlock broke the kiss,

'Don't stop," he murmured, bringing his head to rest against the detective's neck, his lips brushing the man's jaw line,

'Did you hear that?" Sherlock asked, almost dreamily, both completely unaware of the fact that the rain had actually gotten stronger and was lashing at their clothes and their hair. The thunder was rumbling across the sky and lightning was reflected in Sherlock's eyes as he looked up,

"The thunder?" asked John,

'No." Sherlock smiled, "The sound of an entire life finding it's meaning," John blinked, completely stunned that those words left Sherlock's lips,

'Sherlock," he breathed, shocked, amazed, and Sherlock chuckled again, the vibrations running up John's body, setting it on fire, as the meaning of those words reached John's befuddled brain. He's talking about us…

"John," The doctor focused back on Sherlock, who winced as he moved slightly, "John," he repeated, "I…" Sherlock struggled for a breath and John felt his heart jump. Sitting up, he put a hand to Sherlock's pulse point on his neck. It was beginning to slow down, but jumped at the light touch of John's fingers,

"No talking Sherlock," it was more of a plea that an order. Sherlock smiled and coughed at the same time, the movement jarring his side and making him wince,

'John, I may not get to say this,"

'Don't say that!" John insisted, "Sherlock-"

'Let me finish," The detective raised an arm and ran in through John's hair, shaking the water out of it, even though it served no purpose other than to just put more water on him, and bring John closer, 'John, I love you," Sherlock breathed, 'I can't…" he stopped as the world spun out focus and distantly heard John calling his name. He had to finish, "I can't imagine life without you, but you must carry on," Sherlock couldn't even hear himself anymore, "Work with Lestrade, because he needs you," John's brown gaze filled his vision, scared, worried. Sherlock closed his eyes.

John leant over the detective and as his eyes closed felt like he was empty. "Sherlock!" he called, keeping one hand on his pulse point and lay so that they were forehead to forehead. The pulse was there, but barely, "Sherlock," John whispered, a sob wracking his body before he pushed away only to be drowned in a flood of emotions again. The storm had all but gone away, in their eyes. There was nothing but Sherlock now…and John. John, who lay there and prayed. John, who never stopped believing - John, who wasn't about to stop believing in miracles.

Hope you liked it. Yay! I'm fifteen! Finally…my friends don't have to sneak me into MA 15+ movies.

Hehe.

Aza