Summary: Sherlock, John, and Mrs. Hudson struggle to survive in a new confusing world. Sherlock comes across some very important information about the disease spreading throughout the world. Mrs. Hudson isn't feeling very well. No warnings.

Author Note: I've decided to put out a new chapter every Friday! I hope you enjoy this one.

Chapter 2: All around the Mulberry Bush

The smell was the first thing to hit them. A smell like aged copper pennies clung violently to the air and they gagged on their way out. Mrs. Hudson covered her nose with her collar. "It didn't smell like that a moment ago." She said looking around.

The streets were silently. For one of the busiest streets in London, there wasn't anyone outside. Sherlock hugged the wall looking over the side slowly. There was no one around the corner of the building. There was however a lot of cars in the street. Overturned cares blocked the road and shattered glasses sprinkled over every surface. Sherlock and the others had to be mindful not to make any noise by stepping on it.

A new wave of smell hit them as they crossed the street. Sherlock's nose scrunched. "John." He said barely above a whisper.

"I know." John answered back. He must have recognized it as well.

They traveled south down Baker Street weaving their way cautiously through cars and debris. A thick, heavy moaning trickled in from further up. People hung around the intersection. Bodies and what were probably bodies (if the piles of open festering meat said anything) covered the ground. The copper smell only intensified as they moved closer: the smell of blood.

Sherlock spotted several people in the intersection, hurt and bleeding out. They stumbled mindlessly through the streets dull eyed and hands outstretched.

"Sherlock?" John said. He eyed the hurt civilians. One woman with bloodied hair was clenching her chest and stumbling toward them. Sherlock ignored him analyzing the crowd. There were several men and a few woman out in the open but who knew how many were out of view. He looks around grabbing a large rock from the chipping sidewalk and tossed it with as much strength as he could muster. The rock flew into a bakery window nearby and more glass shattered to accompany the rest on the roads.

"Sherlock, what are you-" Sherlock covered john's mouth before he could finish the sentence. The bloody woman turned slowly to the sound. Her jaw slacked and her legs moved independently toward the sound in a stumbling walk. Everyone people in the intersection were walking toward the sound now. Their arms falling limp to their sides as they looked for something John couldn't see. More stumbled into view dragging broken bodies to the sound. Mrs. Hudson glanced away from the more gruesome ones dragging or rolling themselves forward. The civilians gathered by the window stumbling over one another as they looked for the source of the sound.

Sherlock grabbed Mrs. Hudson's hand. "Inside, now." He whispered leading them into a building. John was right behind him. He closed the door quietly and stopped. Looking out the shattered windows, he tried to wrap his head around the people wandering around outside. They should have been at the hospital, right? They must be mental. He slide a desk into place blocking the base of the door just in case. It didn't do so much good with the shattered windows but, any bit of security helped against the crazy people outside.

John turned around. Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson were already at the far end of the hallway. He ran after them passing bloodied sheets. A moment of pause and he could make out the lines and figure of a person underneath. He ran faster. John met the two on the stairs as they ventured higher up into the building. He climbed to the third floor as quietly as possible before looking around. Pushing several things in front of the doors, he stopped to breath. A thought kept gnawing at the back of his head. "Sherlock, we need to get to Greg before-"

"John, shut up."

John glared at the detective as he barricade the door. "Didn't you see what was out there? We-"

Sherlock glared back at him. "John, I said shut-" He began. The doors behind them flew open and a man rushed at them tackling Sherlock to the ground. The two fell in a mass of flailing limbs. "Shoot him!" Sherlock yelled. He blocked the man's massive jaw from taking a bite out of his neck.

Two shots rang out as John took the man out without a second thought. The man's body lurched as his head blew like a watermelon. The rest of him collapsed on top of Sherlock. Sherlock quickly rolled the man over and scooted a safe distance away.

Mrs. Hudson gripped the blunt chair leg she'd found lying around. "Nice shot."

"Mrs. Hudson please." Sherlock said pulling a pair of gloves from his bag and began examining what was left of the man. He looked the wounds looking for any abnormalities. He straightened up as he looked over the man's blood coagulation.

John stared over his shoulder. "Sherlock?"

"This can't be right." Sherlock checked again. He checked the man's dirty skin. "How is this possible?" he said more to himself than anyone else. He triple checked the results. "This man has been dead for over a week."

Silence followed in the space. Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "But that's not possible, he was-"

"Alive?" Sherlock said. He turned the man over look at his back. "Apparently not. He's been dead for more than a week."

John came to sit beside him. "Then how was he moving?" His doctorial interest had been peaked. He inspected the damage to the man's body. Lifting his leg, he looked over the torn open meat of his calf. "He shouldn't have been able to move either." He said, inspecting the muscles closely. "The hamstring in his left leg is completely severed and the tendons in his right are hanging by thread." Sherlock watched on as John looked for answers. John continued. "The pain should have been too excruciating. He shouldn't have been able to walk let alone run at us."

Sherlock snapped off his glove. "And yet he did."

John looked over the body again and again. "This isn't possible." Sherlock looked out the window at the masses of bodies stumbling around the building. He frowned a bit. He looked over the man's rotting flesh. "He couldn't have been dead."

"How else would he have had enough time to decay to such a state?"

"He couldn't have been dead. It's impossible for him to get up and attack someone."

"Once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth, John." Sherlock said. "This man should have been dead. His very existence a moment ago is impossible. But he was moving. So, what does that tell us?" John stared at him shaking his head. Sherlock turned back to the window. "The dead can't walk. That is impossible. But what about the living?"

"So the living dead is plausible?!" John said.

Sherlock snorted. "The living dead? No. You've been watching too many movies John. But a disease that could fabricate electrical impulse though the brain could make them walk even after being deceased. It could explain the dulled pain receptors too."

Mrs. Hudson nudged the body with her foot. "But he's been dead for a week right?"

Sherlock shook out his hair. "Yes, that would be impossible unless his brain was kept from decaying." He looked the body over again. "So, whatever is happening, it can also effect those who were already dead like our friend here." He looked into the window again. "The people below however appear to be relatively alive or at least were before this happened. Their bodies haven't decomposed as drastically." Sherlock sighed. "We could exclude him as an abnormality. But even then, a virus that you into nothing more than a walking hungry piece of meat?" he scratched his chin lost in his own world. "It's possible, regardless of how improbable it is." He looked over to John. John didn't seem convinced. "Fine." Sherlock cutting his eyes at him. "You're a doctor." He motioned to the body. "Explain."

John remained silent. In all his years of medicine, he'd never seen anything like this.

"Just as I thought." Sherlock looked around the room. He grabbed a chair crackling it in half against the wall. "We've got a new virus tearing through Europe and possible other continents. We're in the middle of one of the most densely populated areas in England with no way out and no weapons other than a gun. " He grabbed two of the long leg chairs. "We'll need to defend ourselves." He paced back to the window, his mind super charge. "The sick have-" he railed out the window looking around. "Poor motor control, no pain receptors, undisturbed strength, poor sight but impeccable hearing."

John looked over. "How do you know about the hearing?"

"The rock, they were attracted to the noise." Sherlock picked up his bag and tossed John his. "That and the fact that I just spoke out the window. Several looked up and are heading this way now. With them and the ones who already followed us inside, they'll be strong enough to overthrow that poor barricade we've created." He slung his bag over his shoulder. "So I suggest we leave now."

John tighter the straps on his bag. "Yeah, now would be a good time." The moans outside the door increase.

They headed upward, Mrs. Hudson right on their heels. They took it slowly, finding ways around the sick with rocks and other loud noises. Mrs. Hudson tossed a rock into a cabinet with a thick whack. The three sick blocking their path moved slowly out of the way. She followed after Sherlock and John on their way out. Running, her vision blurred. She turned a corner and fall over. "Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock was at her side in a matter of seconds.

Mrs. Hudson coughed. "I'm fine, dearie. We should keep going."

He nodded looking her over for a minute before they reached the fire escape and made it to the next building. Mrs. Hudson stumbled over coughing hoarsely as she jumped to the other side. They hopped from building to building trying to make their way to Buckingham Palace in the distance.