The prompt for this was 'The Bomb Exploded', and it reminded me of some theories I read about what would happen between series 1 and 2 of Sherlock. Hope you all enjoy it and as always, Comments/Reviews welcome!
Oh, and nothing Sherlock belongs to me.
The bomb exploded. The plan was successful. And then the world slowed down.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion and what seemed like a few seconds after the fireball started to form over the discarded vest – which was covered in explosives – a force hit the young detective from the side. Belatedly he realized the force was his friend John Watson. The next thing he knew, they were both in the water, and John was pulling Sherlock down deeper as the fireball washed over the water and debris started to rain down into it.
It wasn't long until it mostly stopped, and the two were able to kick their way to the surface. Sherlock gasped for air since he wasn't expecting to be shoved into the water, before looking over at his companion in as near to a panic as he'd ever been. "Are you alright, John? Are you alright?!" His voice raised over the sound of fire and the temporary deafness from being so close to an explosion, he knew he must be fairly shouting at the man.
"Yes, I'm alright, calm down!" John ordered the younger man before grabbing him by the jacket and starting to pull him over to the edge of the pool. "We need to get out of here before the whole bloody building comes down on us." He states as he clambers out of the pool and then leans down to help the other man out as well.
Coughing a little from the smoke now filling the remains of the pool area, Sherlock climbed out of the water with John's help, looking at the doctor afterward. "Moriarty?" He asked after looking over at the crater where the C-4 covered vest once was.
Following Sherlock's gaze over toward where there should be a body, John shakes his head a little. "I don't see him, or a body." Looking back at the detective, he frowns when he hears sirens. "Come on, or we'll have to be treated for smoke inhalation, and you must have hit your head, you're bleeding." Grabbing the taller man by the arm, the doctor very nearly drags him out of the pool, coughing and shivering a little when they reach the cool outside air, just in time for ambulances and some police cars to start showing up.
Unsurprisingly, out of one of the cars comes Lestrade, cursing under his breath when he sees the Consulting Detective and his army doctor stumbling out of the building. "Oiy! Lets get some blankets over here!" He shouts to the paramedics as he waves one hand impatiently at the two.
Police, firefighters and paramedics swarm toward the building to make sure no one else is inside as the two wet men get led to the back of an ambulance where blankets are piled on them and one of them starts looking at the somewhat superficial cut on Sherlock's head that nonetheless has started to bleed quite badly merely due to the location.
"Alright, then. Want to tell me what the bloody hell happened here?" Lestrade asks as he walks over to the two, glad to see them alright but frustrated as well by them once again being in the middle of the disaster.
John sighs a little, rubbing his forehead for a moment. "Moriarty kidnapped me. The man who was behind all those phone calls and puzzles. He strapped a bomb to me just like the others. Warned Sherlock to stay out of his way and actually showed his face for once. We thought he had gone, Sherlock took off the vest with the explosives and threw it away from us a bit. Moriarty came back though, to kill us. Sherlock did the only thing he could think to do, he shot the vest and blew it up. We were hoping Moriarty might have been caught in the blast, but I didn't see any body in there.." He sighs a little and watches the EMT carefully to make sure they're doing a good job.
Although he doesn't seem happy about it, Sherlock allows himself to be tended to by the EMT, glancing up at Lestrade. "You won't find a body. Moriarty had other men there as well, snipers. I am sure one of them would have gotten him out if he was not able to himself. The bomb was much closer to him however, so he would not have escaped unscathed, certainly." There is a certain vindictive tone to his voice when he speaks, rarely finding someone worthy of his ire like Moriarty.
Lestrade takes a few notes and he glances toward the building, sighing a little. "Why did you shoot the bomb and not Moriarty, for Christ's sake?" He asks as he looks toward the building and glances at the EMT for a few moments.
"Moriarty had multiple snipers in the building with their guns trained on both of us. If I had short Moriarty there is no doubt in my mind we would be dead. Shooting the explosives was the only way for us to get out alive." Sherlock explains, wincing away from the minstrations of the EMT, giving him quite the glare.
John sighs a little before he looks at the DI. "We've had a long night, we are in soaking clothes and freezing, and just nearly got blown up. You know where we live, Lestrade. The rest of the questions can wait until tomorrow, I imagine." He stands up and pulls his wet wallet out of his pocket, frowning a little as he looks at the equally wet money inside.
"Yeah, sure. I'll have someone give you a ride home." Detective Inspector Lestrade says reluctantly but sympathetically. He dislikes having such a big mess to clean up with so little information, but there's not much to be proved or disproved until the fires are out and the wreckage has been sorted. Motioning to one of the uniforms nearby, he gives the man instructions to bring the two back to 221B Baker Street, then he looks back at the men. "I'll pop round tomorrow." There is no room for any negotiation in his tone, giving them both a meaningful look before he motions. "Go on, then." When the EMT seems about to protest, he holds up his hand to stop him. "Watson is a medical doctor, I'm sure he can take care of any further needs Sherock has."
"Course, we'll be around." John reassures the detective before he goes to the car with the detective for a silent ride home.
It's not until they get back into 221B, changed and dried off a bit, while John is making some tea, that he looks over to where Sherlock is sitting in his chair. "Do you think Moriarty is alive?" He asks as he looks at the younger man curiously.
Steepling his fingers in front of him and rubbing the outside of his index fingers against his chin a little, Sherlock stares into the roaring flames of the fireplace. "Yes. I do." He finally decides after a few moments of silent thought.
"He'll come back for revenge, won't he?" John asks as he stares out the window of the kitchen as he waits for the kettle, fiddling with the mugs in front of him for a moment.
"Most likely." A small nod is given from the brunette as he stares into the fire, slowly turning away from it to look at the stiffened back of his flatmate. Standing slowly, he walks over to where he stands. "We'll be more ready for him next time." He says, putting a hand lightly on the doctor's shoulder.
"You bloody idiot.." John mutters, before he turns and pulls Sherlock in for a tight hug, thumping him on the back a little. "I am bloody glad you're alright, Sherlock." he says in a tight tone, having been keeping this in most of the evening as he hugs the detective for a few more moments before he releases him, clearing his throat and looking away at the tea. "You're right, we'll be ready." He adds in a more calm tone.
Rather surprised at the hug, Sherlock takes advantage of it and returns it until he's released, then he straightens and watches the other man with a perplexed look on his face. "I'm glad we're both alright, John. Shooting a bomb would not have been my first choice, but we had no others." He says simply, before he turns to walk back to his chair. "We should order takeaway. Chinese?"
Smiling a little, John makes the tea and then turns to carry one of the mugs over to Sherlock. "Yeah, I could go for some food. Chinese sounds good. The usual place?" He asks, the tension leaving his shoulders as he sits down in his chair and reaches over to take his cellphone off the side table, glad he had accidentally left it at home.
Making a noise of agreement in the back of his throat, Sherlock accepts the tea and takes a drink slowly of it. "Yes, it's the only place decent enough which also delivers." He says simply as he watches the doctor curiously for a few moments,
"Don't start on that again." John scolds lightly before he gives the detective a meaningful nod. "We'll catch the bastard. It's a marathon it seems, not a sprint." He says before he dials the phone.
Sherlock nods a little and takes another sip of his tea. "Yes, John, we most certainly will catch him. If it the last thing I do, we will catch him."