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Sherlock couldn't bare social situations, especially those that took place in a crowded maturity ward surrounded mostly by irritated women.  John had the appointment made before the detective had even gotten a chance to discuss it with him and she was more than sightly annoyed. She had had a meeting with Lestrade to discuss a case that morning and had to cancel due to 'unforeseen circumstances'. If she missed out on this case woe be tied! "How long will this take?" Sherlock whined. "Just a few minutes." "I had a meeting." "You need a check up. The meeting can wait." "The thing can wait. It's been waiting for 3 months. It's not going anyw

Never again did Sherlock want to see the colour pink. No, it was not her and John's notorious first case that had brought about the sudden hatred, but the appearance of ten perfectly formed plus signs. They were mocking her, she was sure of it. Sherlock found herself seated upon the bathroom tiles with the waste paper basket full of pregnancy tests between her knees. After almost 3 months of unbearable bouts of sickness and fatigue, she had finally bitten the bullet. She hadn't expected anything beyond an inconclusive, so when the little plus sign appeared Sherlock thought it only right to double check with at least nine more tests. Sitting

At first they thought it was one of Moriarty's tricks. They assumed he was the one who had unleashed the disease upon the nation but it soon became clear that this certainly was not the case.  In fact the mastermind had been found in pieces in his own kitchen, just three weeks before the epidemic. It was later confirmed that he was one of the first victims. Sherlock Holmes still doesn't know why and he never will.  The authorities announced the outbreak of 'Lonely fever' (named so because immediate isolation of the infected. Correct term: Ira Morbus) on the second of January.Ten days later and there we

Try as Sherlock might, John would not raise from his bed in the morning. He refused to accompany the soldiers as they ventured into the lost city claiming that it was pointless and Sherlock didn't push him, in fact he was quite happy to keep John away from the front. However, when by nine that evening John still hadn't eaten or drank anything the former detective knew something needed done. "John, sweetheart, if you don't eat something I'll have to get one of the medical staff up here. You know I can't let you carry on like this." "Go ahead." John answered. "I – John – You need to get up and eat." Sherlock demanded, "I will not

A briefing was given to all those involved with defence and battle in the camp. The citizens and scientists were spoken to separately. Sherlock Holmes attended all three of the meetings by his own accord and listened carefully to the bullshit being spread. His fruitless hope as quickly dwindling and ,as much as he hated it, he was beginning to think Lestrade was right. Down in the laboratories, Sherlock, Molly, Harper and the remainder of the scientists were bluntly told that their efforts to find the origin and, eventually, the cure to this disease weren't good enough. "Action will be taken to help you guys find the right path. Maybe even

Three months previous:   A memoir of The Infection; Entry #34. By DR.J.WATSON. After much consideration, Davidson has assigned to Squad Beta #3 for the remainder of my stay. Yesterday I braved the center of London as a private; but I returned to camp as a sergeant. We headed out at noon, each solider carried his satchel and weapon. I also took with me the medical kit. No matter where I went my status as a doctor, or past army doctor, never seemed to lie. The streets were littered with garbage, paper and plastic and debris everywhere, cars burnt out and piled one on top of the other; it was bedlam. And then there was The Infected.

He was a special breed of lover. A soft and touching hand with a personality to match. Sadly for him I have tendency to hurt the ones I love. Everything started out fine and out life together was bliss; musical and passion fuelled bliss. Our home was a small one, with a room for our bed, a room for our fire and reading, a scullery and a room out the back leading to the yard. Molly would lay by the fender warming her belly, her hind legs kicking at some invisible creature and ears twitching. He loved that dog and when she became a dam to several puppies he was overcome with happiness. He is not a man of emotion, in fact he is rather strong an

Watermelon. That smell always drove Mike crazy. It was the scent of the summer, of the sheets of his bed and that of his lover after a long, soothing bath. He took a deep breath in through his nose and could almost taste the fruit. He followed the smell into the kitchen. His partner, one Billie Joe, stood by the sink, a knife in one hand and a watermelon held in the other. A shiver spread down his spine. "Morning." The smaller man mumbled, keeping his back to his husband and his eyes firmly on the job at hand. Mike swayed towards him and slipped his arms around his slim waste. He buried his nose into his bleached hair. The fruit was there

"We need to hide!" Billie Joe took hold of Tre's arm and pulled him furiously in the direction of the house. Mike dashed after them. All three men were blinded by their own panic, the daunting night made ever more frightening by their anxiety and the silence of the neighbourhood around them. They locked the back door of, what once was the Armstrong household, and at once went around the house locking the windows. Mike explored the cellar for firewood. He called Billie Joe to help him with the collection of planks and the smaller man reappeared with a hammer in his mouth and pockets full of nails. Mike and he began to board up the entrances o

When the siren's sounded in the North London sector, everyone knew their places. Those who could fight went to the front lines and those who could protect went with the weaker of the pack. John Watson was forced back into his camouflage and handed a EM-2 Bullpup. He was told to aim between the eyes, shoot and don't think twice. Unwillingly, John was thrown straight into a battlefield unlike any he had ever seen. Sherlock Holmes went with the rest of the civilians as a guard, a gun strapped to his left thigh and a knife to his right. In his former life Sherlock was a sociopathic consulting detective. If someone had told him he would be actin