Seconds later.
An odd man swings around the frame of the door, without introduction or hesitation.
"What are you still doing in here?"
Despite his sharp tone the man bore a somewhat comical appearance, one in which would probably always be out of place regardless of the situation.
"Measuring the coagulation of milk if you must know."
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Cool. Yes very cool, got a spot of bad news though. Hear that, it's a fire alarm."
"Yes, yes spare me the theatrics. That is indeed a fire alarm but there is no fire. Have you ever heard of the phrase 'where there is smoke there is fire', well take that instance and reverse it and then you shall understand the predicament I find myself in."
"Ah I do love a fast talking clever-clogs, but I have to say you and your cleverness are somewhat in my way. So, sorry in advance." He lifts the petri dish from under the microscope caps it; wraps it in a handkerchief then shakes it teasingly at Sherlock before stuffing it into his coat pocket and bolting out the door.
Sherlock sits stunned for a moment before grabbing his things and chasing after the madman.
Sprinting through St Bart's Sherlock quickly locates his target, spotting the heel of a boot round each corner of the winding corridors. He has almost caught up when the very ground beneath him shakes, causing the walls and windows to crack and quiver in response. An earthquake, Sherlock questions incredulously as he falls to the ground. He falls hard and he remains there as the tremors continue. Ideas spawn and multiply as he lies there in momentary awe.
"Are you alright?"
"No no not an earthquake - not a natural one at any rate - the average in this twenty year span is a three point five, and that wasn't even a four. It felt more like a six, oh definitely a six." His words rolled out, a linear stream of consciousness.
"Sherlock are you alright?" The stranger asked again, baffled at the detective's rolling monologue.
In response he begins to laugh, disregarding the outreached hand of help he rises to his feet to discover that the ground has begun to normalise.
"- Which suggests it's a foreign influence disrupting the earth's natural state – happens all the time you know people get curious and always need to dig a little deeper - popping these delightful little disturbances all around in a one mile radius. But alas we are in London, good ol' London town expanding for hundreds of miles so drilling that deep is not only illegal but simply impractical due to the subway…" Excited he begins to pace around the man, walking through the decimated corridor picking up bits of rubble and dust which fall from cavities in the ceiling above.
"All marvellous ideas, but let's remember who has the precious spoiled cream, eh?" He nervously looks behind Sherlock up the corridor where they had just come and then with a glance of his watch begins to run again. The stranger's… strange behaviour made Sherlock fight the compulsion to correct the man, his hyperactive anxiety coupled with an unsettling optimistic grin left Sherlock feeling terribly uncomfortable.
The pounding noise returns as they sprint through the hospital disrupting the sound of their boots echoing upon the cracked tiled flooring.
Sherlock; running through the possible ideas mentally reduces them from twelve to one, as he simultaneously runs alongside the nameless man. Nine: He has been drugged; thus tainting the functions of his inner ear. But due to the rather obvious fact that he could run in a straight line, this was eliminated. Five: St Bart's is collapsing due to weary foundations, however as their beloved building had withstood the blitz that seemed rather unlikely. Until the final conclusion, One: The tremors are not emanating from below.
"But where there is no smoke there is no fire and there is no fire alarm." He begins to pant as talking becomes a strenuous activity whilst keeping up this pace. "Drills are often, but this was too convenient, no someone knew this was coming. Someone triggered the alarm."
"Yes I know. I did."
For the first time, Sherlock properly considered this funny man with his odd little bow tie. This entire situation was so utterly odd and yet so familiar.
"Okaay." The madman whisks a glowing torch like device from his inner pocket and begins waving it around in a flamboyant manner as if it was some reliable data collecting device. "Given by the weight and velocity of each footfall I'd say we have um three minutes forty two seconds before well… Hm the after isn't really worth thinking about." His face hardens. Appearing like he is witnessing a grim vision as his eyes dart about in their sockets; a tell-tale sign of a restless soul, Sherlock thinks to himself. Then suddenly that potential situation is mentally quashed, compressed and completely forgotten. The odd man becomes once again light and airy. "Elevator it is then!"
Sherlock unusually quietened by the entire situation, simply nods leading the man to the elevator bay, in silence. Feeling more tremors underfoot they realise it is strengthening with each quiver. Wordlessly they share a thought. 'It's getting closer.' Sherlock, not entirely certain what 'it' is exactly, allows the adrenaline of this new mystery to course through his veins feeling as always- more exhilarated than scared.
They both unashamedly gasp for air as they reach their destination. Shoulders hunched, hands round their waists as they recover from their sprint. They glance between themselves and grin at the mirror image.
"The lights are out." Sherlock pants, pointing to the darkened buttons indicating the power is off.
"Any bright ideas?"
"Ah so you are helping me now?" He side eyes Sherlock, then tosses over the handkerchief.
"You think I followed you for this?" He holds up the petri dish, squinting at it in an unappreciative manner. Sherlock then watches the man as he pulls a discreet metallic lever on the wall causing a small control box to pop forth.
"No, I am far more interested in the fact that you know my name."
A short silence follows and the man is forced to stop fiddling with the wires, distracted by the intensity of Sherlock's gaze. He appears out from behind the mechanism and takes a single weighted step toward Sherlock, looking at him with heavy eyes.
"Sherlock. Is that you?" A faint crackling voice interrupts the simultaneously career their heads round to face the mechanism.
"John. But he couldn't still be here.."
"Well I did turn off the main power grid, hm -about ten minutes before I programmed the alarm so it's highly possible the lift shut down with him still inside before the evacuation of the building. "
Sherlock smoothly passes the imbecile who appears to be counting frantically on his fingers and proceeds to push the bell shaped button next to the tangle of wires.
"Look John we've got the service radio up and running but it seems like the rest of the power is down, can you hold on for a bit?"
A rush of static screams through the receiver making Sherlock cringe but the other man continues count his muttering becoming more erratic. "Who's 'we' and what about" John's voice fades and becomes inaudible before returning to a broken sentence. " ... fire?"
"You don't need to worry about that right now. Everything's fine."
"Uh, no! No it's really rather not." The madman snaps out of his bubble. "I think you may have gotten the wrong impression from all of my extremely elaborate attempts to show you that things are most certainly the opposite of what you like to call 'fine'!"
Sherlock grins and crouches to speak into the service radio once more. " All just an elaborate hoax apparently."
"Listen here detective; I present to you a hallway full of rubble, a series of undeniable tremors and a pounding noise which is quite clearly following us with increasing clarity of purpose. Why don't you try and make a simple deduction, or even just a wild stab in the dark as to what is going on here, hm? Or are you so terrified of the obvious that you'd rather deny the logic of which you have already drawn your own ultimate conclusion."
Rather pleased with himself Sherlock relaxes against the wall. Thinking smugly inside; I have him now.
"Tell me who you are."
"It's rather a long story."
"A name will suffice."
"Sorry, it's a secret."
"Yet you seem to know so much about me, so perhaps I should be asking for the name of your employer?"
The man produces a irritated sigh, clearly finding this interrogation process rather tedious. "This is not the moment to do this."
"Well I think this is a rather opportune moment actually, or would you prefer we discuss this over tea and scones?" Sherlock sneers.
Acutely aware of the glass shattering nearby and vibrations underfoot the man does not turn round but simply locks his eyes onto Sherlock.
"More of a jammie dodger man myself but all you need to know is that I'm a friend. And if you want exit this building alive –"
"No. Wrong answer. I haven't even met you before. I never forget a face."
In response the stranger lets out an uncontrollable laugh, a little too hard for Sherlock's liking.
"Fine. You don't trust me, I understand that." The stranger speaks candidly whilst regaining his composure. "But if you do want to exit this building with that man trapped in the elevator who I can only assume is in fact your friend despite your worrying lack of concern for him, we need to leave now."
Sherlock; irked now as the smug grin slides from his lips, no longer finds himself in a teasing mood. He moves closer to the stranger, close enough to feel his breath and it is suddenly apparent that Sherlock is the taller of the two.
"And how exactly do you plan to accomplish that?"
The man snatches the petri from Sherlock's grasp and spins it over his shoulder and through the air to the control box. He swiftly brandishes his device and aims it towards the now flying milk. It emanates a remarkable noise and milk spatters onto the wires somehow spurring a chain reaction of events behind the wall. A whirl then a click as something adjusts into place and suddenly the elevator lights begin to glow, resulting in the elevator doors releasing to reveal a rather baffled looking John Watson.
"Just so!" The stranger beams.