Chapter 34 Fire

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A/N: This is short. Sorry I haven't updated this one for a while. I put it up for the wattys. Help it win.

Sherlock had pictures taped up all over the wall above the sofa. I was half asleep on the sofa from the pain meds the doctors still had me on. Mycroft and Sherlock were playing operation while discussing the terrorist situation. Those two were something else. When the buzzer went off they started to tease each other and I stopped paying attention.

Sherlock was having to resort to other methods as he didn't have John to help him and I was laid up still from being beaten half to death. I told him John wouldn't be very happy to see him or be willing to help him. John had, in fact, told him to 'fuck off'. His language usually wasn't that colorful. He was still talking to me as he believed I tried to tell him. Sherlock didn't.

When I opened my eyes again Sherlock was handing me some fish and chips and he had his own. I took them and sat up to eat. I only had two bites when someone came running up the stairs. "Sherlock!" That was Mary's voice.

"Who are you?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I'm John's wife," she said running up the stairs.

"Mary?" Sherlock questioned mouth full of food.

"I think someone's got John, look at this," she pulled out her phone showing us a text message.

"Shit," I said getting the message and running out the door. I heard her explaining it to Sherlock but I was already heading down the street. I found a police motorcycle parked outside a coffee shop. I took it, Lestrade would have to forgive me. I drove to the church and stood in front of the pile of sticks. "Don't light it!" I shouted. "Someone's in there! Help me get them out." I started pulling sticks aside and looking for John.

"John!" I called wriggling my way inside. I found him and grabbed hold of his foot before trying to crawl backward.

"John!" I heard Sherlock call.

"Sherlock! Pull me out I got him," I said grabbing hold of John and I felt myself being dragged out. John was unconscious and I let Mary take a look. I wasn't good at that sort of thing. Sherlock slapped the side of his face. He woke up for a minute looked at us. He was taken to the hospital and Sherlock and I had motorcycles to return. I took mine back to the coffee shop where Lestrade was waiting.

"I thought Sherlock had taken it," he said. I explained the whole thing to him and left. Sherlock returned his motorcycle and I went back to bed. I had pushed myself a little too hard today. I just hoped tonight would be nightmare free. After those two years of taking down the network, I had really bad nightmares.

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