Sherlock pressed himself up against the cold, metal of the door as he caught his breath.
'I made it...I MADE IT!' Sherlock, despite being rather short of breath, was somehow able to proclaim his victory.
'Well done Sherlock. I'm quite surprised that you managed to outrun those dogs for so long. But this is only going to get harder. That first stage was...a purposely easy introduction to my little game. But do not expect the rest of this to be easy. Not at all.'
The voice was gone almost as soon as it arrived. Sherlock was alone in the dark, empty room, again.
Then the lights switched on.
Sherlock looked around the room. It appeared to be nothing more than a plain old warehouse, but he knew there must be something more than that.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
'Shit!' Sherlock swore.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Sherlock was looking around desperately for the source of the gunshots.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
He noticed a thinly disguised door set into the wall at the opposite end of the room.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Sherlock pushed the door open.
There was a man with a gun in the centre of the room.
John.
John with a gun in the centre of the room.
'All my christmases have come at once.'
'John!' Sherlock ran towards him, a smile plastered over his face.
'Sherlock...I...' He wrapped his arms around him.
'John, I'm so sorry...I'm...so stupid...' He pressed his face into the top of the shorter man's head.
'Sherlock. I have to finish this.'
'Finish what?'
'These triangles'
'Triangles?'
John pointed at the gunshots in the wall. He produced a can of spray paint and began making lines between gunshots.
'Oh. Right.'
'Sherlock...I need to go. Moriarty will be waiting.'
'Errr...right. Of course.'
John was walking to the door when he felt Sherlock's ridiculously long arms wrap around him.
'Be safe, John.'
'I will. I promise.' John spun around in Sherlock's arms and stared into those sweet, moonstone eyes.
'J-John...'
'Sssssh.' John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, and brought his face closer, ghosted his lips over the detective's.
When Sherlock pulled abruptly away, John had to admit that he was rather concerned that Sherlock hadn't enjoyed their almost-kiss. But when he saw the consulting detective flash him a quick smile (one of his real, genuine smiles, not just one of the ones he flashed to get people to do his bidding), all worry fled from his body.
Until he realised why Sherlock had pulled away.
Moriarty.
Moriarty was standing in the doorway, sporting his trademark grin.
'Boys, boys, boys...Break it up!'
'Jealous?' Sherlock teased.
'I believe you're done here, John. Let's go.' He pulled a gun, 'Not that I really need this...do I?'
John remained defiant. He didn't really fancy leaving Sherlock now.
Sherlock mumbled into John's hair, 'Go, John. Look after yourself.'
'Come on! I don't have all day!'
And just as soon as he arrived, John was gone.
Again.
Sherlock was cold and alone.
Again.
Sherlock's gaze drifted towards the triangles. The three points were marked by bullet holes, and connected by spray-painted yellow lines.
'What could this possibly mean? Triangles...there's eight of them...but nothing else really stands out...there must be a reason they're there. Oh well, time's a ticking, must figure out how to escape this place.'
Sherlock strode over to the door that both John and Moriarty had used to exit. It was locked, obviously, but there was a small note tucked behind the door handle:
'This stage is rather different to the last one you faced. Here you will be tasked with escaping this set of rooms. To escape you must solve each puzzle I set for you. The first puzzle you are tasked to solve is on that very wall there. The answer is derived from eight triangles. Hint: Try halving them.'
Sherlock scoffed. Half of eight triangles? Hardly challenging for a six year old, let alone the world's only consulting detective.
'Half of eight is four, half of a triangle is 1.5' He announced his answer.
'Wrong!' Came the phantom voice from above.
'Fine then! Eight triangles, eight times three equals twenty-four, twenty-four halved equals twelve.'
'Wrong again! Really, Shirley, you're clutching at straws here.'
'Then...what could...'
'Think. You're going about the entirely the wrong way'
Sherlock really, really wanted some nicotine patches right now. This was definitely at two-patch problem. Or three. Or four. Or ten. Anyway, it didn't matter. He needed to solve this and he needed to solve this now.
But what exactly was the right way to go about it?
'Well, since you seem to be having SO much trouble with this, why don't we try another puzzle, if you're SO thick. Honestly, I expected more of you.'
As difficult as it was, Sherlock somehow managed to restrain his anger.
Somehow.
'Try the puzzle in the next room. You can always come back to this one later.'
'God. He sounds like a demonic little girl. I wonder if anyone's ever told him that?' Sherlock was able to restrain his giggle as he crossed into the next room.
This room was smaller than the last, and contained no obvious signs of a puzzle.
Or did it?
There were what seemed to be...dots and dashes scrawled across the walls, but he could barely make them out.
'What I need,' Sherlock concluded, 'Is some way of turning on the lights.
John was feeling considerably more optimistic about his situation since seeing Sherlock. He'd always believed that Sherlock would be there to rescue him (Horse and shining suit of armour not included), but seeing him alive and well...it meant a lot.
And then there was their almost-kiss.
That, John thought, was the best kiss he'd ever had. Even though it wasn't really a proper kiss, not that it mattered. It mattered that he had almost-kissed Sherlock Holmes, and that Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock-Bloody-Holmes seemed to enjoy it. Enjoy. Properly, truly enjoy.
'God help me. I'm getting more obsessed with the man than Moriarty is.'