Summary: Who doesn't love family? They always (usually) come through. Explanations and cliffhangers.
Author's Notes: Tee Hee
Chapter 10: The Spark
Sherlock tore his gaze from the edge looking at John. John looked over the edge and Sherlock nodded. Molly pulled Lestrade farther away from the horde and toward the edge. He understood. Sherlock stood closing his eyes. For once, no other thoughts clouded his head as he made his decision. Closing his eyes, he found his courage and readied to leap.
Sherlock took a deep breath, readying to jump. It was the obvious choice. He's rather die than become a mindless monster hunting for its next innocent prey. He took another deep breathing, squeezed John's hand and leaned forward.
RING! RING! RING!
Sherlock paused. Below him the mindless sick masses grabbed for him. He took the call. "Hello-"
"-SHERLOCK HOLMES! DON'T YOU DARE JUMP."
Sherlock ripped his head away from the phone. He listened closer. "Mycroft?"
"Little brother, if you try to jump, those things will be the least of your worries." Mycroft said. Behind him, a distant mechanic sound cut through his words.
Sherlock looked around. He stared off into the distance. A slight smile broke out over his face. "You didn't-"
"Of course I did."
John stared out into the distance, lost to the conversation. He followed Sherlock's eyes. A large object came out over the horizon. "Is that a-" he grinned as a large helicopter came into view. The helicopter was moving toward them. Moving closer, the helicopter came just above them. The others covered their eyes as the wind breezed past them. The helicopter door popped open.
Mycroft looked down at them, eyebrow raised. "A little difficulty and you opt out. I expected more." he said. HE unfurled the ladder to their level.
Sherlock caught it hopping onto the ladder. "Piss off." he said. John helped the others onto the ladder and rolled it up as he came to the top. Mycroft slammed the door with a scowl. Sliding into his seat, he knocked on the cockpit window. "Go Jeffery."
The helicopter flew away and the hordes of the infected fell over the edge trying to defy gravity as they reached for them.
Sherlock took a deep breath sliding deeper into the cabin seat. "You're late."
Mycroft smirked. "You're welcome." he shifted his umbrella in his lap.
Sherlock looked around the large helicopter. It was an expensive looking helicopter with padded siding and furnished seats. He looked over the number of people. Counting everyone in their group, the new additions were Anthea, sitting beside Mycroft and typing on her phone, Mycroft, and Jeffery the pilot. Mycroft himself didn't look at all fazed. He looked like he did every other day before the outbreak.
"It seems the apocalypse hasn't ruffled your manicured feathers."
Mycroft chuckled. "I wouldn't say that."
Lestrade looked out the window. London was in disarray below them. "What the hell is going on?" he said. "How did this even begin? One day, I wake up and the world is fine with the occasional murder and the next there's monsters overloading the streets eating people.
Mycroft sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "The disease started in Dublin and when the panic people thought it would be a wonderful idea to boarded planes and boats to escape the virus. They instead worked as rats during the Black Plague and carried it across the world. It spread throughout Britain quickly and was reported to have reached as far as America before communications went out. United Nations has been disbanded seeing as there are no longer any nations to govern and most of the representatives are either missing or dead.
He crossed his legs and continued talking as if he was relaying the weather forecast. "Anarchy is at an all-time high and shows no signs of stopping." He shifted his umbrella again. "Before the Capitol Building in Australia was attacked, the remaining scientist estimated that the dead outnumber the living three to one." He finished coolly and sat back to stare out the window. "So, Hell is a good word for it, Detective Inspector."
Silence fell over them as everyone tried to adjust to the information. Sherlock slid down into his chair. "Three to one…" he mumbled to himself.
John looked behind him at the flaming city. They'd flown far in only a few minutes. The city he'd spent most of his short life in was now a memory, a small reddish dot over a canvas of green grass.
Sherlock pulled on John's sleeve. "Turn around." he grumbled, resting his head on John's shoulder. "It's behind you now." John nodded, turning and making himself comfortable. He heard Lestrade chuckled and looked over. Apparently the two of them were serving as pillows for the time being. Molly whimpered in her sleep and Lestrade readjusted her laying his head against the side paneling.
"We should all rest." Mycroft said. Everyone nodded and leaned on each other for leverage, their tense bodies trying to sleep.
Mycroft looked up over to find Anthea asleep between the curtains, her fingers still twitching as if she were texting. He chuckled to himself before tapping the metal siding of the cockpit. "Stay on course and take us straight to the compound." Mycroft ordered, leaning back in his chair.
Jeffrey nodded, keeping course to the compound. Looking down, he stared into the foliage below them. He groaned as his vision unfocused on the rolling plains. Shaking himself out of the fog, he reached down and uncapped his medicine bottle before swallowing two aspirins. All the excitement must have been getting to him. He was starting to get a headache...