They got down just as the sharp boom of the bomb exploded and destroyed their home within seconds. The smoke was overwhelming, and he and John needed to get out. He rolled off of the army doctor who was thankfully still awake, and lay next to him belly down on the floor.
"John. We need to get out of here. Ready to make a mad dash to the stairs?" he says urgently, panic starting to make a home in his chest. John nods to him, and glances down the hall.
"When I say go, all right?" John replies, his voice clear and hard.
Sherlock didn't question him, but also gave a shook of his head to tell him he understood. He trusted him, and knew he had expertice in this kind of thing. They were an unstoppable duo, he thought.
"GO!" John yelled, and heaved himself off of the floor, Sherlock on his heels. They raced down the stairs almost falling, and stumbled half blind out of the door and into the street. The detective looked up and had noticed that the bomb had been strategically placed so only their flat would be affected. He knew all the other tennants of the building were milling about around them, including Mrs. Hudson. There were already firefighters there and armed with the strong, pressurized hoses, already dousing the flames that had refused to quit. He heard John hyperventilating, and went to his friend.
"John. John, breath." He grabbed John's shoulders and looked at him. He sighed and pulled out his phone, dialing his brother. He kept a watchful eye on the road, having guessed a sleek, government vehicle would already be on the way.
"Sherlock? I've sent a car. It will take you to my estate."
"Thank you. I was just calling to check." Sherlock hung up the call, and kept in contact with John. Once he glanced up again he pulled the shaky man with him to the black vehicle and got inside. As soon as the door was closed shut the car moved, and headed to it's destination.
Sebastian knew that they would make it out. They were smart enough, trained enough. It was really only a beginning move in this intricate game, and he had many more to play. He paced around in his flat, wondering where he'd find the great consulting detective and his pet next. He had a few ideas, and kept them relevant, as one should consider every possible play, move, action, and detail when toying with one's prey. That's what Jim told him two days before the fall. He hissed in anger and stopped his pacing, and chucked the glass he was holding at the wall. It shattered, became unfixable and he felt content knowing that's what Sherlock would be like after he was done with him. Broken.
This will be my last update for a few days! I'm heading off to California on a school trip, and I don't have a laptop :( I know this was incredibly short, but I need to get to bed soon. Sorry, but I promise I'll make a million chapters when I get back! I love the support, comments and critisicism are always VERY welcome! Thank you for reading my story! - C