Fire

There's smoke everywhere. He can't breath, much less see. His lungs are feeling with smoke with every small inhale, and not the good kind of smoke. He had to find John, though. He couldn't leave this place without him.

He wanders longer and finds the flames. This way he knows he's gone in a complete circle, and still no John. Going towards the flames would be bad, however, so he stops in the corner where there are no flames and slithers down the wall. Vague fire safety memories reminds him to stay low, below the smoke, so he slide down the wall and onto his belly.

His eyes sting. He can't breath. He didn't find John.

Seemingly hours later, two hands grab at his arms. "I've got you!" a loud man shouts at him.

"John…" he manages to whisper out, his voice hoarse with it being dry from the smoke.

The man drops to his knees next to Sherlock and pulls Sherlock over his shoulder, in a regular fireman's hold. "Take this!" he shouts at Sherlock, shoving his oxygen mask over Sherlock's face.

Sherlock takes as deep a breath he can, which is apparently too deep. He coughs and gags over the man's shoulder, then he slowly takes shorter breaths into the man's oxygen mask, then hands it back to him. Still on his knees, the fireman carries Sherlock out of the building. It's a long journey, and somewhere along the way, everything went black in Sherlock's vision, and not just from the smoke.

The fresh air hits him like a left hook to the breast bone. The fireman sets him on the ground, and Sherlock writhes and coughs on the ground. He feels another oxygen tank on his face and he breaths in and out slowly. His eyes sting too much to open.

"John?" Sherlock pleads between breaths. "John?"

Someone kneels next to him and helps him into a sitting position. "Come on, get that smoke out of your lungs," the second man says.

"John?" Sherlock asks again.

"We can't find Doctor Watson, sir," the man says. "We've searched everywhere. Are you sure he didn't get out before you?"

"I don't…" Sherlock tries to recall. Suddenly his eyes sting, and not from the smoke. "John was there," he coughs out. "And the other man…but John…he ran after him as the flames began…"

"Sherlock!" a familiar voice calls behind him. Lestrade appears next to him and kneels on the other side of him. "Sherlock, god, are you alright?"

Sherlock nods. "Find John," he says.

Lestrade quickly stands and goes back to his team.

Suddenly the building is engulfed in more flames; an explosion had just gone off. Sherlock passes out at the sight.

Sherlock wakes up in an ambulance.

"Mr. Holmes?" the medic gets his attention. "You're on the way to the hospital, sir. Can you hear me?"

Sherlock nods. "Where is John?"

"We found him, sir. In the uhm…" the medic pauses to think if he should tell Sherlock, but he tells him anyway. "He was in the building."

Sherlock tries to sit up, but the medic pushes him down. "John!"

"He's in an ambulance right behind us, sir. Just lay back and relax, please."

Sherlock doesn't know what to do, so he does as he's told.

They get to the hospital and Sherlock gets checked out. Nothing is broken and he has no major lung damage, so an hour after arriving, he gets released. He goes to the reception desk to demand where John is.

"I'm his husband," Sherlock says, trying to be as calm as possible. He has no idea what to expect when he finds John, but he's hoping for the best.

A nurse takes him to John's room. Sherlock takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

"John?" he asks.

"There you are," the figure on the bed says. It's John, of course. John holds his hand out for Sherlock and Sherlock eagerly takes it.

"I'll leave you two alone, then," Lestrade says, having ridden in the ambulance with John.

John and Sherlock nod at Lestrade as he exits the room.

"Where'd you go?" Sherlock demands. He lets John regain his thoughts and looks John over. Patch of gauze over his left eye, probably from smoke damage. Bruise under his other eye from where the man punched him right before the fire started. His ribs are wrapped, he was either manhandled or he fell through a floor. No, his legs aren't damaged. He was manhandled. Second degree burns on his arms, most likely a bit on his legs. Not that bad. Chapped, cut lips from the dry air. Sherlock reaches over to John's bedside table and picks up the cup of water, then presses the straw into John's mouth. John greedily sucks the water, then coughs from taking too much in. He tries to sit up, but he can't, so Sherlock rubs circles on his chest to soothe him.

"'s nice," John murmurs.

"Where did you go? What happened?" Sherlock demands again.

John coughs to clear his throat. "Well, he punched me and knocked me off guard, you saw that. Then he pulled me with him through the door of one room before you could catch us, and once you got to the room there was the fire, right?" Sherlock nods. John continues, "Well, he pulled me through to another room, where he started another fire, then punched me again. In the chest that time. I fell back onto a table, and the table fell through, that's where I cracked a few ribs." Sherlock winces. "It's not that bad, love. Anyway, after that he pulled me to another room, through the flames, and left me in a room where he started another fire. I think I passed out pretty quick because I don't remember anything after that, until Greg was talking to me a while ago."

Sherlock nods all through John's explanations. He grows hot, angry. He clenches his jaw and flares his nostrils.

"Love," John softly says, squeezing Sherlock's hand. "I'm fine. See?" John smiles up at Sherlock.

Sherlock frowns down at him. "I couldn't find you."

"I know. And I know you tried. I'm just glad you're ok."

"I would have rather been with you."

John shakes his head. "No. No, I would have killed you had you gotten stuck with me. You were where you needed to be. Got it?"

Sherlock slowly nods. He looks at John through his lashes, with his head down, and bites his lip.

"What is it?" John asks, annoyed. He knows Sherlock's got something to say, he knows Sherlock wants to tell him he's an idiot for standing up to the guy before the fire. He wants to—

Sherlock delicately grabs John's face and presses his soft lips against John's tender ones. When he breaks away, he rests his forehead against John's. "I'm so glad you're ok, John. I'm so sorry for not finding you."

John grabs Sherlock's arms and holds him tight. "It's ok, love. We're ok."

*So this prompt was FIRE which I love by egyptian1995. Thank you so much, I hope this is ok. It's a bit angsty isn't it. More prompts, everyone! Please!