Valiant {Book Two of the Incandescent Trilogy}

Chapter Twelve: It's Always Sherlock's Fault

A/n: Sorry about being MIA for a while, but I've been really busy between going to London, and writing everything else, and becoming a Wattpad Fanfic Representative (so if you have any problems, feel free to flip me a message and I'll do the best I can to help you!) I have to admit, I've been trying to avoid writing this until I figured out WHAT ON EARTH I WAS DOING WITH THIS but figured since my birthday's on the fourth of August, and I enjoy giving presents more than receiving them, I'd sit down and write this. Enjoy.

CHAPTER TWELVE: IT'S ALWAYS SHERLOCK'S FAULT

Before anyone could react, the windows caved inwards. It was as though someone had punched through them in an explosion of fire and smoke, tearing the room in two. Glass shards embedded themselves into every available surface—the walls, the now overturned desk, and any exposed skin. Charlie, Sherlock, Amelia, and John were thrown against the opposite wall by the force. Alarms blared, shrieking into the chaos and drowned out by the horrified screams of people below. Charlie lay in the corner of the room, blood trickling from a gash in her forehead, and Sherlock alongside her. Neither of them seemed to be breathing.

Amelia's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper grinding against stone. She wouldn't have been surprised if she had inhaled a mouthful of rock dust—she could taste the grit on her tongue. "John?" She struggled to get up, only to fail as she saw what was stopping her. There was a long, metal beam lying across her chest, and with every wheezing breath she took, it put more pressure on her cracked ribs. She let out an agonised groan as she tried to move it, then leaned back, abandoning hope.

"Ames?" came John's voice through the haze of smoke and ash. Emerging from the rubble, he rushed over to her side, faltering as he saw the beam across her chest. "Oh my God... Right, stay calm, okay?"

She laughed, voice pained. "It's times like these that I'm thankful you were an army doctor." She coughed as she inhaled smoke. "I'm conscious. I don't know if Sherlock or Charlie are. You need to check them first. I'll be okay." Even she didn't believe her own lie.

"You have a metal beam lying on top of you."

"Trust me: it isn't the worst thing I've had on top of me. I'm pretty sure some of my exes take that title."

"Ames, now isn't the time for this." John reprimanded, rushing over to Charlie and Sherlock, bending down alongside them, trying to see if they were breathing. A large patch of blood was starting to grow on the back of John's shirt, seeping through the fabric and causing it to cling to his skin.

Though her head pounded, and her tongue felt heavy, Amelia managed to get out a, "John, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine." he insisted, scuffling back to Amelia. "Right, on my count we'll lift this beam, okay?" Amelia took in a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. "On three." John braced his hands under the beam, "One...Two...Three."

With a great big heave, the crushing weight on Amelia's chest was lifted, and she found herself suddenly able to breathe again. Her ribs creaked with every motion, threatening to overwhelm her, and drag her mind into the comfort of darkness. Her head still swimming, she asked, "What happened?"

"Building across the street exploded." John answered, struggling to get to his feet. "Damn, that hurt. Can you walk?"

"I think so." Amelia pushed herself to her feet, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in her chest. As soon as she spoke, she fell to her knees, retching. The back of her throat burned as acid made its way up her throat, and as soon as her vomiting had quelled, she wiped the red-tinged saliva from her mouth, dragging crumbles of concrete across her face. "Maybe not."

John crouched alongside her, hand on her shoulder. "I'll go get some help. Will you be okay?"

Sirens wailed in the distance, becoming louder with every passing moment, cutting the destruction as though it were a cleaver cutting through bone; breaking the horrified screams as though they were nothing more than a stick a child had found in a park. It jolted Amelia's dazed mind, briefly bringing her back to reality, but the urge to collapse was starting to become tempting. Lilith herself was whispering her ear, crooning to her to relinquish control.