Summary: Nothing but running, heart break peaks over the horizon.

Author's Note: Warning for blood (small amounts though). Here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4: From my rotting body, flowers shall grow

Sherlock woke to the sound of screaming. He jumped up. "What happened?"

John didn't look up from the Mrs. Hudson. "Her fever spiked. She won't stop screaming." Mrs. Hudson's eyes bunched hard. She flailed violently in John's arms. John looked positively terrified as Sherlock took her from him.

The wooden barricade over the front doors began to creak. The sounds of walking outside caught their attention. Sherlock stiffened. "Mrs. Hudson." she wouldn't stop screaming. He pulled back before his own ears could be damaged. "MRS. HUDSON!"

The screaming cut almost painfully like the sound had been pulled from her throat. Mrs. Hudson laid completely still. John scooted closer ready to check for a pulse.

Her body when rigid as she opened a tired eye. "Sherlock?" her voice was weak and fragile not the usually wind chime sound they both knew.

The boards creaked again. "We have to go." John said tossing them their bags. Sherlock took Mrs. Hudson's for her, helping her stand on wobbly legs.

A massive bang, almost like a dead body being chucked against the door, shook the entire room. The door hinges screamed under the pressure of the sick on the other end. Mrs. Hudson ran for a desk pushing it against the doorways with some help. The door creaked open despite their efforts.

Sherlock pushed harder. He turned to john. "Get her to the fire escape."

John had the window tossed open before he'd finished the sentence. He looked around before Mrs. Hudson stepped out.

Sherlock watched them go. He waited until John was outside before turning back to the door. The wood of the door began to splinter and Sherlock looked down the hallway. There had to be at least twenty of them, all of them pushing against the door and each other. Mutilated jaws snapped at him through the splintered openings and dead eyes burned into his core.

"Sherlock?" john whisper-yelled.

Sherlock cursed under his breathed, bolted for the door, and vaulted outside in the space of ten seconds. He slammed the window shut just as the sick managed to get inside. He wouldn't have been happy to say it was nice to breathe fresh air again but it wasn't. The air wasn't fresh anymore.

In direct sunlight, they tried to ignore the decomposing bodies around them. Bodies dotted the streets, their disfigured corpses twisted into nightmarish forms. Blood sprayed like a Pollock painting and the pavements pooled with liquids and unnamed meats. They stopped at the corner and Sherlock looked over. "Their motor skills seem impaired but their grip is powerful." he said more to himself as he watched three sick in the road. They were...having lunch. He turned to the others. "Don't let them get a hold of you." he said.

John nodded. Mrs. Hudson's eyes drifted in and out but she nodded slowly. Sherlock stared at her longer.

John checked his clip. "Sherlock, I don't like being out in the open like this." he reminded. Out here, they might as well ring the dinner bell. Or breakfast, whichever.

Sherlock looked up. He searched the nearby buildings for movements. "We can't go into any of these buildings. If there's one, there's probably more."

John nodded. "Then all we can do is go through." he said.

Sherlock sighed. This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea he'd ever had. "Are you ready?"

John snapped his clip back in. "Locked and loaded."

Sherlock chuckled. "And you call me dramatic." They sprinted down the infected streets. Granted, their footsteps were heavy but their charge helped them move faster than the masses. Sherlock estimated their time to Buckingham. "We need to move faster." he said.

John wasn't listening to him. He was staring at the mangled corpses in the streets. Sick sat on the pavement pulling handfuls of meat out of the open cadavers. Snaps and squishes surrounded them as the sick took in mouthfuls, scarlet blood dripping from their fingers and teeth. He gagged.

"Don't look."

John didn't need to be told twice.

They turned the next corner and a wall of sick came into view. The sick turned slowly blank eyes suddenly alert and hands outstretched to grab them. Sherlock railed back pulling the others with him. He grabbed a plank from a nearby building ripping it straight from the wall. "Stop thinking John." Sherlock said. He whacked a sick directly in the head when it came to close. "Just run."

John followed his lead tucking his gun into his waist and grabbing a steel pipe. He brought it down on the closest sick's body. It shuffled back arms swinging at its sides before coming back at him, teeth bared in festering gums. He attacked again. The pipe connect to the sick's head with a sickening crack. Blood splashed and the sick fell. "The head." He stumbled back as a sick reached for his jacket. "Go for the head." The continued to run, killing anything that so much as came into view.

Mrs. Hudson held her own. She swung at a sick grimacing at its head split. Her vision blurred as she moved. Her legs laced with lead and she stumbled. A weird shape stumbled closer to her and she whacked it with all her might. Blood splattered and she continued to beat it. She looked over what was left in its skin. Wounds festered and skin ripped over the slowly decaying body. She peered closer dragging the body out of the crossfire and examined it. Moving its clothes aside, she noticed a bright red patch on its collarbone.

A bite mark.

Her blood ran cold as she looked over her own hand. Her bite mark had gotten worse, the skin around it blackening and breaking. She couldn't feel the pain but the evidence was there. Another sick came over to her and she batted its head off. She looked for another mark. It was on the sick's left calf. She ran to the boys. "Sherlock?" she tried to get his attention.

He beat off a sick turning to her. "Busy!" he yelled smashing another's brains in. Mrs. Hudson shook away her headache and whacked a sick who came to closely.

John looked over as Mrs. Hudson stumbled. "Mrs. Hudson?" He only had a second to think about her before more sick were on him.

The world began spinning around Mrs. Hudson. She hit a wall suddenly underestimating its distance and sank slowly before toppling over.

Sherlock looked over. "Mrs. Hudson?" He batted away a nearby sick and ran to her. He looked her over, checking her temperature before seeing the new state of her wound. She looked at him as her eyes rolled back into her skill. He picked her up quickly and sped off John on his heels. He watched Mrs. Hudson sway in his arms. "You're going to be fine. Don't worry."

Mrs. Hudson tried to speak as her consciousness tuned in and out. Sherlock's assuring words were the last thing she heard before the world spiraled into darkness.