Watch out. Language about.
 *~*
Jim brushed off a bit of snow that had fallen on his suit as he stood on the porch. He pressed the button for the door bell and waited patiently with a smile plastered on his face. He heard footsteps from within and flinched inwardly when the door was pulled open.
"What the fuck do you want?" grumbled the obviously hungover adult.
"Mister Holmes?" Jim asked, still smiling.
"Yeah?"
"Holmes as in the father of Sherlock?"
"How many fucking Holmes' do you think live around here, dickhead?"
"Just making sure, sir. Do you mind if I see Sherlock?"
"Yes, I do mind. Piss off," he went so slam the door but Jim stopped it with his hand, the Holmes father sneering at him with reddened eyes.

"Sir, it's rather important that I see Sherlock."
"It's rather important that you get the fuck away from my house!" Jim disobeyed and stepped into the house. The Holmes father snarled at him and punched Jim in the face. Jim fell to his knees and clutched at his face, feeling the blood seep out of his nose and mouth. He smiled and wiped the crimson mess from his face, standing to smirk at the man before him.
"Not the most passionate one I've felt, but it's pretty close," he stated dismissively, "now, I want to see your son," Jim dusted off his suit and saw that the Holmes father had raised his fist and was about to strike again. Jim pulled a small firearm out of his suit and pointed it at the man, "please."
The hungover man lowered his fist and growled at Jim.
"He's not here."
"Excuse me?" Jim asked, his calm face faltering for an unnoticed moment, "he's not here?"
"No. I've searched all over the house for the little bastard and he's nowhere to be found. Now piss off!"
"As you wish," Jim smiled. He turned and started to walk out the door, stopping when he reached the frame. He tilted his head towards the man still inside of the house and ceased his smiling, "I know what you do to him, by the way. I don't think you're a very fitting father, Mister Holmes."
"What's it to you?" he snarled at Jim. Jim turned to face the man once more, pulling a small device out of his coat pocket.
"Everything," he said simply, pushing the button and walking out of the house. As the door closed, clicks were heard all over the house. Sherlock's father went to open the door, finding that it had been locked. He tested the nearby windows. Locked. Every exit was locked. He was about to wonder why when the middle of the house was suddenly consumed in a pillar of flame.

John could smell it before he saw it. Smoke. And lots of it, he thought. He got up from his bed and looked out the window, finding that the source of the smoke was the manor across the road. John's eyes widened with both surprise and panic as he rushed to the nearest phone and dialled for emergency services. He ran out to his porch to try and see if anyone was still inside. There was no car in the driveway and he couldn't see anything but smoke in the windows. Smoke and...
"No," John whispered as he saw a glass jar on the second floor windowsill, "Sherlock."
He ran to the house and immediately felt the heat radiating from behind the front door. He decided against opening it, as it seemed that the majority of the fire was on the ground floor. He quickly looked around and saw a route that would lead him up to the window. He assumed Sherlock used it to leave the house without permission. He climbed the front of the house with some difficulty, finding that the route was obviously suited for Sherlock's tall and agile body. Peering into the window, he found that the room was empty. No, it can't be empty. He always has his jar with him. He has to be-
"Sherlock!" he cried as suddenly the dark mop of hair poked out from under the bed. John pulled at the window, only to find that it had been locked. He caught a glimpse of the flickering flame that was making its way towards the room. John pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around his hand, dismissing the sudden chill that attacked his bare torso. He ducked his head and clung to the windowsill with his right hand as he used his left to punch in the window. He pushed as many shards of glass in as possible before entering the room. He sudden burst of air sent the fire raging into the room, causing thick smoke to engulf John. He reached under the bed and dragged at Sherlock's unmoving body. He shook his shoulder and called out to him, checking to see if the boy was still alive.
"John," he mumbled, before going into a coughing fit.
"I'm here, Sherlock. I'm going to get you out."
"Jar," he wheezed, eyes fluttering open for a split second before he went limp in John's arms. John lifted up the surprisingly heavy boy and draped him over his shoulder. He grabbed the jar that was still sitting on the windowsill and dropped it into the slowly melting snow below. As he climbed back down the house, he heard sirens in the distance. When they hit the ground, John picked up the jar he had dropped earlier and took Sherlock to the end of the manor's driveway. He laid him down in the snow and tried to shake him into consciousness. He checked for a pulse and any signs of burning. His pulse was steady and it looked like he was fine. He might have a little bit of smoke inhalation, though. At that moment, Sherlock coughed and fluttered his eyelids again. The fire brigade finally pulled up along with the ambulance. They immediately set off to extinguish the fire, leaving the captain of the brigade and the ambulance officers to speak with John.
"Are you the boy that called about the fire?" the captain asked him. John nodded, cradling Sherlock's head in his arms, "you did the right thing, son. You should be proud of yourself. And although it was reckless and you could have injured yourself, you just saved this young man's life. Well done."
John nodded again, helping the ambulance to lift Sherlock onto a stretcher. The captain asked John if he knew whether anyone was still in the house.
"No there isn't," came a voice from behind them. John turned to see a young man in a suit with an umbrella in his hand staring solemnly towards the manor, "there's nothing important left in that house, Captain."

Sorry, another short one. I'm really sorry this wasn't up sooner, but since my last upload I've had a terrible cold. I couldn't sit up for long periods of time and I had a migraine all day yesterday. I'll try and sort out next chapter ASAP, but in the meantime I'm preparing for an event I signed up for. Submissions are due in two days so I've been trying to multitask all my fics :3
Thanks for being so very patient with me. And my cold is gone, I feel soooo much better now!
SH