[Somehow, somewhere, the pounding on his back in the real world mirrors his own fists pounding on the walls of the room he's in with Moriarty. He's exhausted by the third blow, he can feel himself weakening, so he throws his all into it.
The fourth blow sends him staggering out into his mind palace proper again, racing up the stairs even as the Sherlock in John's arms begins to cough and splutter.
It doesn't take long, a minute or so, before his eyes are blearily opening.]
no subject
The fourth blow sends him staggering out into his mind palace proper again, racing up the stairs even as the Sherlock in John's arms begins to cough and splutter.
It doesn't take long, a minute or so, before his eyes are blearily opening.]
S'that smell, J'hn?