And what if, this moment, wrapped in the gauze shawl

Of stillness, is the secret after all, to learn to look

More closely at the varied world, the veins of a leaf,

A stone, the shape of our hands, the curve of our nails the

Secret of loving the transfigured world?

- Maria Mazziotti Gillan

The world was dark and cold and quiet and the only sound that John could hear was the blood in his ears and the constant impact of his feet on the frozen floor. John didn't know where he was going, all he knew was that he had to run, Sherlock had told him to run and so that is what he was doing. He was running away from the field and from Sherlock, from his friend who had been shot, who was probably bleeding to death right in front of the man whose seemingly sole purpose in life was to destroy Sherlock's life.

There was no coherent thought in his mind, only flashes of images and words and sounds: Sherlock's face... Run John! ...Smoke, thick and dry, clogging his airways, making it hard to breathe... Run John! ...Two gunshots, first one misfired, second one made contact... Sherlock's laboured breathing, his voice strained and sharp with pain... Run John! ... Run John! ... Run John!

The forest was pitch black and as they ran John's limbs sporadically smashed into unseen tree trunks and bushes, low hanging branches clawed at his face and unearthed roots caught his feet almost vindictively. John's hand felt sweaty in Irene's but he clung on for dear life as they hurtled through the darkness, he was afraid that if he let go he would stop being tethered to the world and the shadows would simply steal him away.

He didn't know how long they'd been running but it was longer than he had ever run before. It was the adrenaline that was keeping him going, John could feel it in his blood and muscles. It buzzed inside him like electricity and John knew from experience that the second he stopped moving its effects would start to wear off and his energy levels would crash harder than a falling plane. But he couldn't keep going, not like this, not at this frantic speed because his heart would explode. He needed to stop.

A few seconds later, almost as if Irene had heard his thoughts, she finally stopped running and at last let go of his hand. They both bent at the waist and gulped down shuddering lungfuls of freezing night air.

"Where..." John began but the overwhelming metallic taste in his mouth made him cough a few times before he could continue, "Where are we going? Do you have some sort of plan?"

Irene breathed in heavily through her nose before she stood up straight,

"Look around John, what can you see?"

John, unable to stand straight just yet because of the powerful stitch in his side, raised his head slightly and took in the sight of their surroundings. They were in a clearing, half illuminated by the light of the moon. Trees only encircled a portion of the area and there was a good fifty to sixty feet of empty space that simply slipped off into darkness. Through the shadows John could see pin pricks of light. At first he thought that they were stars but he quickly realised that they were evenly spaced and glowing yellow rather than white.

As John's breathing and heart rate slowed he could faintly make out the sound of distant traffic. They were close to a motorway. Before John could ask Irene how she'd known how to get to the main road he spotted something metallic glinting in the moonlight. He turned his head and saw a blue Honda parked just to the left of a large oak tree.

"What... why is there a car in the middle of the forest?"

Irene shot him a look of complete and utter incredulity, "I know you're in mild shock but I need for you not to act like an idiot."

It took him a few minutes of looking back and forth between Irene and the car before John made the connection,

"Sherlock left it there?"

Irene clapped three times in a mock applause before she headed towards the car. It had obviously been left unlocked because Irene was able to open up the boot without using a key. John watched her rummage around in – what appeared to be a canvas bag – before he asked,

"But how did you know that it was here?"

"John_"

"And don't tell me that I'm acting like an idiot because that isn't an idiotic question, it's reasonable for me to question how it's possible for you to find a car parked in the middle of a forest, in the dark without a compass or a fucking map. Or, while we're on the subject, question how you and Sherlock knew that you were going to smoke bomb yourselves out of that situation? He didn't even look at you and yet you were both almost working in perfect synchronicity. So I can only assume that either you both pre-planned this or you and Sherlock share some sort of telepathic connection."

Irene sighed deeply before she slammed the car boot shut and rested herself against it, "Is there a chance that we could talk about this in the car?"

John unintentionally backed away, "Why... we can't just drive away."

"Yes we can, Sherlock deliberately left the key in the ignition for us to do just that."

"But he's hurt, he's been shot! We can't just leave him to die_ he could already be dead."

"Well then what's the point of risking our lives to retrieve a corpse? And don't give me that look John, I'm not being heartless I'm simply being pragmatic." Irene said as she walked around and pulled open the driver's side door. Seemingly without even having to look, she located a piece of paper tucked beneath the seat and quickly scanned it.

"Have you ever played "What If?"?" She asked after she had finished reading whatever was written on the page

John blinked in confusion, "The party game? Where someone describes an imaginary scenario and you have to say how you'd respond?"

Irene nodded, "Do you remember last Christmas when Sherlock was continually texting someone on his phone?"

"How did..." John began but then quickly realised where this was going, "He was texting you?"

Irene nodded again, "He said that he was being forced to spend the day socialising with a group of aggravating ignoramuses."

John bit the inside of his cheek to keep his annoyance in check, "He spent the day with me, Mrs Hudson and Mycroft."

"I'm sure he wasn't referring to you." Irene said with an amused smirk, "But anyway, I received a text from him that simply read: "Have you ever yearned for an apocalypse that wipes out the entirety of the human race just so you can be spared the torture of playing party games and engaging in social niceties?" – I suppose that was his way of wishing me a merry Christmas. Anyway, I piggybacked off his text and brought up the game "What If?" and told him that that game could be rather interesting. He said that he doubted it, I took that as a challenge and thus had to prove him wrong."

John couldn't help but smile slightly as he realised what she was leading up to, "Don't tell me that you discussed what you would do if you were kidnapped by a serial killer?"

"No..." Irene said as she shook her head emphatically, "We didn't just restrict it to serial killers. We also discussed the possibility of psychopaths, various military operatives, terrorist cells and people suffering from a drug induced psychosis."

John rubbed his hand over his eyes, even now he could clearly picture the image of Sherlock draped across the sofa texting while the rest of them watched "It's a Wonderful Life" and ate copious amounts of Twiglets. When John had asked him who he was texting, Sherlock had simply shushed him as he texted furiously in response to what his correspondent had just said.

"You're not normal." John muttered to himself.

"Who? Sherlock or myself?"

"Both of you."

Irene seemed to swell with pride, almost as if he had just given her a compliment rather than an insult, "Anyway, over the course of that afternoon we outlined detailed rescue plans for specific locations and situations. I told him that an ex-lover of mine – who used to work for MI5 until she met a rather untimely end in Prague – gave me a pair of diamond earrings that doubled as explosive smoke bombs. Sherlock seemed to get rather excited by this idea and asked me to invest in a set for him."

Irene smiled at the memory, "I said that he was too manly to pull off diamond studs so instead I suggested that he simply conceal the device in that gorgeous hair of his." Irene raised her eyebrows, "Can you deduce from the empirical evidence presented to you what happened next or do I need to break it down further for you?"

"No I think I can keep up." John said a little tersely, "But what about the car?"

Irene sighed in exasperation, "Sherlock shouted at you for you to throw your device east and he threw his south, the north side of the field was completely blocked off by densely packed trees which left only the west side as a viable escape route. I assumed that he was trying to convey the idea that he had parked the car somewhere to the west of where we were standing."

John gaped at her incredulously, "How could you possibly know that? There's no way you could have... that was a blind leap of faith backed up by complete and utter bollocks."

Irene knocked her knuckles against the car window, "It worked didn't it. Now, we really must get going."

"Where?"

Irene waved the piece of paper at John, "We also discussed what we would do if one of us got injured or if we got separated. We agreed that if we were on stable ground we would leave a note in a car – or other method of transportation – instructing the other where to go. Obviously the rules changed if we were sea or airborne."

"Well of course, obviously." John muttered.

"Would you like to hear what Sherlock has to say? Will that convince you to get into the car and stop acting like a four year old?"

John ignored her little comment and simply nodded his assent. Irene looked down at the note and read,

"Irene, I'm assuming if you're reading this note then you and John have found the car – if John is not with you then simply disregard the rest of this note. If neither of you are in need of immediate medical attention then take the car to the Premier Inn off the first exit of the motorway. There's a key card in the glove compartment, the room is 1245. If I'm dead then enjoy the room – it's paid up until Sunday – if I'm alive, then wait for me, I shouldn't be far behind. Sherlock."

Irene looked up at John after she had finished reading, "If he is alive then he will find a way of meeting us at that hotel. If he was shot – which I can't be sure of – but if he was shot then he'll need you to attend to him. He packed your medical case in the boot along with an IV and suture kit. He's planned this through; he prepared for every possibility."

John stared at her from a long moment, he felt internally torn, "But what if he's dead or dying?"

Irene held his gaze, "We also discussed what would happen if you were involved. He told me that, if given the choice between saving him and saving you, I was to choose you. Now, he came to get you, he knew the risks; he knew what he was facing that's why he factored in that possibility into his note. He wanted to save your life and – with my help – that is exactly what he has done. I'm not going to let you go back and get yourself killed because then all of this would have been for nothing. So we're going to get in this car and drive to the hotel and wait to see if Sherlock shows up. If he does then we can all celebrate by linking arms and walking off into the sunset."

"And if he doesn't?" John asked.

Irene's jaw tensed and her eyes remained fixed on John's but she didn't say anything, there was really nothing to say. If Sherlock was dead then the world, at least as far as John was concerned, would forever fall silent.

"Get in the car John." Irene said at last as she slid into the driver's seat.

When John still hadn't approached the car she continued, "You are either going to get in this car of your own freewill or I am doing to drag you in by the hair."

She didn't appear to be joking and, considering there was nothing else for him to do, John had no other choice but to cross the clearing and slid into the passenger seat.