Chapter 22

Pain; it was all John could feel. Burns scared his body and wrecked his clothes. He couldn't move his leg either. It hurt like mad, but John wasn't worried about that. Sherlock was on his mind. Lifting himself with all his strength, he looked around with blurred vision, seeking out the image of Sherlock Holmes. Fires burned all around him, but not too far away lay Sherlock, covered in shards of glass and unmoving. John cried out to his friend, but there was no movement. John forced himself into a crawl, ignoring the scream of his possibly broken leg.

"Sherlock!" John cried, dropping to the floor next to his friend and rolling him over. Sherlock's skin was burnt and it was practically see-through. "Sher…lock…" John croaked out, brushing his hand against the detectives face. Sherlock's face twitched at the gentle touch and slowly those magnificent blue eyes looked into his.

"John…"Sherlock rasped, trying to pull himself up, but he was too weak. His body collapsed back down again against the floor. Sherlock's eyes dragged up and down John and wrested on his flat mate's broken leg. John's eyes followed and he instantly felt a sweep of nausea hit him at the sight. His bone had punctured through the skin of his lower leg and a pool of blood was now growing under him. Great; they were both going to die of blood loss. "The door," Sherlock gasped, glancing at the door leading from the cafeteria. John looked at Sherlock with sickly eyes.

"We can make it," he rasped, taking Sherlock's hand. Slowly they both sat up, black spots taking over their vision. John held back a cry as he put weight on his foot. Sherlock grabbed him, holding him up with the last bit of strength he had. John glanced over at Sherlock, who simply just smirked at him like old times.

"I do hope you understand you'll still be chasing after criminals with me after this," Sherlock teased. John laughed, smiling back at his friend.

"Sure, Sherlock, I can knock them out with my crutches," John stated. Sherlock's smile brightened and his eyes turned back to the doorway up ahead.

"They certainly wouldn't see that coming." The two of them struggled to the door, assisting each other as much they could. Flames cracked and popped around them, but they kept on moving. They were going to make it. They had to.

Cool air licked at their faces as they stepped through the door. It was dark out and the moon and fire were the only things that lit the night. John and Sherlock cried out in triumph as they made their way far away down the cobblestone path. The road was only a few steps ahead. They were almost home free.

"Going somewhere?" cackled a voice from behind. Sherlock and John spun around, to see the blurry image of Mr. Darcie. His skin was shredded from the fire and his clothes were burnt black. Sherlock and John stumbled on their feet as they stared at the man who should have been dead. Darcie smiled at their surprise. "I figured that you two went to that particular lab for a reason instead of just escaping through the main doors," Darcie sighed, glancing behind the detectives. His eyes glistened red from the flames growing behind them. "You killed all my doctors."

"They were no doctors!" John shouted; his raspy voice cracking. Darcie's eyes slit and he stared John down with a poisonous glare.

"HA! Like you and doctors of today are actual doctors!" Darcie spat. "You all rely on machines and gadgets. Do you even know how to treat a patient without such things?!" His eyes turned on Sherlock, looking at the blood soaked bandages around his wrist. A smile quirked at the edges of his lips. "Apparently not," he mused. Sherlock took a step forward, gritting his teeth. John held out a hand to steady his friend, but Sherlock pulled away.

"What about you, Mr. Darcie?" Sherlock hissed, his icy blue eyes blazing with the light of the fire erupting from the asylum not too far away now as well. Darcie frowned at him, folding his hands over his chest.

"I don't know what you mean," he growled. Sherlock smiled at him with angry eyes and waved at the Asylum behind Darcie.

"Doctors are supposed to adapt; to change and learn new techniques for the best of their patients, but here you are with old techniques that barely gave their victims a chance. Are you really a doctor like you're saying because you don't seem to be putting the patient first?" Sherlock huffed. "You're no Doctor." Darcie was rigged all over, breathing heavy as anger burned through him like a laser.

"Those shall be your last words, Holmes!" he screamed, whipping out a gun and firing. John and Sherlock lunged themselves to the ground, but the bullet still had enough time to scrape Sherlock's temple. The detective let out a cry, sending fear through his flat mate. John grabbed at Sherlock only to see that the bullet had scratched him. Thank god! Darcie wasn't finished, though. He charged at them, knocking Sherlock onto his back and squeezing his wounded wrist. Sherlock kicked and punched at Darcie, but he was too weak from blood loss. He couldn't push him off on his own. Pulling out the scalpel John had taken from the torture room he lunged himself on top of Darcie, stabbing it into the man's back. Darcie cried out, rolling off of Sherlock. John held onto the man, doing his best to dodge the kicks Darcie hit him with. Once again he stabbed down, but this time Darcie caught his wrist and kicked him in his broken leg. John cried out, smacking down against a tree sitting just next to the path they tumbled on. Darcie picked up the scalpel from the ground, coming toward John with angry eyes.

"John!" Sherlock shouted, jumping in front of his friend and grabbing Darcie's arm. Darcie screamed as a snapping noise came from his arm when Sherlock bent into backward. The detective may be week, but he still had some fight left in him. John rushed to Sherlock's aid on his broken leg, helping his friend bring down the doctor. Sherlock now had out his own scalpel and was stabbing down at Darcie as he tried grabbing for Sherlock's wrist again. John took back his own scalpel and slashed at Darcie as well. With a sharp cry Darcie collapsed on the ground, motionless, leaving Sherlock and John alone. The two looked at each other, breathing hard.

"Huh, who said you can't put up a fight when slowly bleeding to death," John sighed, leaning up against the tree. Sherlock wiped the sweat from his face, staring down at Darcie.

"Speaking of bleeding to death," Sherlock began, looking up at his friend. "We better try to make it to the main road before death finally catches up with us." John nodded, pulling himself up from the tree.

Smack!

John whirled around, startled from the sound. He looked down to see Sherlock laying on the ground and Darcie standing over him with a bloody smile.

"You didn't think it could be that easy did you?" John swore to himself. He was really starting to hate that saying now. He took a few steps back from the man, knowing that he was too weak to put up another fight and make it out alive. Darcie grinned down at John as he lifted a knife above his head. "Not all patients survive treatment, sadly. Everyone dies sooner or later!" John's eyes widened as the knife came down.

Bang!

The noise rocketed through the area like a sonic boom and John heard the knife fall to a clatter against the ground. John looked up to see Darcie sputtering up wads of blood as the bullet hole in his lungs worked its magic. John's eyes then fell to Sherlock lying on the ground with the gun sitting limply in his hands.

"Sherlock!" John croaked out, crawling over to his friend. Sherlock smiled at him sickly. His heart rate had skyrocketed, along with how cold he was.

"He overestimated us," Sherlock whispered as John sat by his side. John smiled at him.

"Yeah, well that's the great Hat Man and Robin for you," John sniffled. Sherlock frowned, shaking his head.

"I still don't get what they see in that hat," Sherlock muttered. "I only wore it that one time for god's sake!" John laughed at his friend.

"Well, fans are crazy that way." John could now feel the tears running down his face as he looked at his friend. Sherlock's eyes looked back at John and his hand reached up to John's face, wiping away the tears.

"You need to go…get help for yourself," Sherlock whispered, his voice growing weaker and weaker. John shook his head, bringing his own hand up to touch the hand Sherlock had resting on his cheek.

"I'm not leaving you again, Sherlock. Anyway, I doubt I can make it there myself," John muttered. Sherlock stared at John for the longest time without saying a word. John took in a sharp breath, waiting for Sherlock to suddenly argue, but instead Sherlock said softly,

"Then we stay together then, like always." John smiled at Sherlock, nodded and lowered himself down so he was lying down next to Sherlock. The two stared up at the stars above them. "Stars are lovely tonight," Sherlock sighed, blinking slowly. John smiled up at the stars.

"I thought-"

"Really, John, you should know how this argument turns out," Sherlock interrupted, smiling to himself. John let out a shaky laugh. He felt like everything was moving slower now. They could only have moments left.

"I know, I just enjoy it. Like I've enjoyed every other thing I've been through with you," John stated. Suddenly, he felt Sherlock's ice cold fingers entwine with his own.

"John…" Sherlock stopped as a raspy cough interrupted him. John squeezed Sherlock's hand. The coughing slowly came to an end and Sherlock's head lolled to the side, too much energy had been used up on his coughing fit. "You're my…my best friend…and always will be. You…you know that right?" he gasped, his grip on John's fingers was starting to loosen as death's hand came closer to them both. John forced out the last of his energy and squeezed Sherlock's hand.

"Always, Sherlock." Sherlock's head swayed to the side, his eyes fluttering lightly.

"Farewell, old friend…" Sherlock's voice trailed off as the last of his breath left his lips. John held back a sob and pulled himself closer to Sherlock.

"I'll see you soon…old friend," John cried, closing his eyes and leaning his head against Sherlock's.

In the full light of the moon lay two detectives on a cobblestone path. Their blood pooled out below them. Death stood off to the side, watching as the two drifted away to a never ending sleep. He had finally caught up with the two of them. You can run from death all you want, but one day you'll trip and fall and he will catch you.

So….How many hearts have I shattered in this Chapter? Let's have a raise of hands!

Sadly, I must inform you that there are only two chapters after this one. *Sob* My baby is almost all grown up! But, you never know what evil scam I could get cooked up in just two chapters. *laughs evilly*

Talk to you all next week!