For John Watson

[howdull]

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

Comments

[jumpthegun]

We'll just get out here.

[John pulls out Sherlock's wallet and pays for the cab before getting out. If Sherlock has actually stayed, he'll hand the man's credit card and wallet back to him. If not... it looks like John will be holding onto those things for a while.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock doesn’t hang around long enough to get his wallet back, he has other more important things on his mind first. Molly. Sweet, awkward, unassuming Molly Hooper who has become an odd sort of staple in his life and who he would actually miss if she were no longer there.

There are police blockades at each end of the street to the crematorium to keep the public out. But even from that distance it’s easy to see that the building is wrecked. Half of it has collapsed completely, rubble and bits of pew from the services now scorched and open to the air. The area reeks of smoke, and everyone spectating is murmuring how lucky it was that there hadn’t been any scheduled services that morning so nobody had been inside.

Sherlock frowns as soon as he hears the first of those murmurings and ducks behind a nearby car as if tying his shoelaces in order to avoid any of the police spotting him.]

They haven’t found her yet.

[Not a good sign, it means she’s probably buried under the wreckage.]

[jumpthegun]

[John joins him after trying to get his own look around.]

So what's the plan, then? Jump one of the forensics blokes and steal his clothes?

[It's only a half-joking suggestion. John's really at a loss for how they get closer without some form of disguise.]

[howdull]

[Those horrific white jumpsuits and white masks in order to keep a crime scene from being contaminated, he always refused to wear them, and now they're the only viable entrance.]

It's more likely that there'll be spares in the back of the forensic police van, we just have to break in there without being seen.

[jumpthegun]

[That's far more practical, really.]

They'll probably be unlocked, active crime scene.

[John tries to act casual as he scans the scene once more.]

Two o'clock. Think we can get the crowd to create a distraction?

[howdull]

[Sherlock risks a peek over the van, and then ducks back down.]

How badly to your ribs hurt? Do you think you could outrun a police officer?

[jumpthegun]

['No,' a small voice inside of him says. 'That will be agony and you know it,' another agrees.]

Mm... if we can find a place for me to run and hide, I can probably manage a quick run, yeah.

[howdull]

It would make more sense for me to run, but I think you're even less suited to crawling along the ground at the moment.

[It's annoying, John being in less than peak physical form.]

Let one of Lestrade's men see you and then run, that should give me the chance to crawl under those parked cars over there and get to the van. If you can evade them by looping around, meet me in the car park of the Sainsbury a street over.

[jumpthegun]

[Every bone in John's body says this is going to go poorly--his ribs are particularly vocal on that front--But it's the plan they have, and Sherlock's right. Crawling would be even worse for him. He can do this, he thinks. There's a thick crowd and gridlock for him to duck around and through. John takes another look around and spots a nearby alley with some bins he can probably hide behind. That should do it.]

Right. Get as close as you can that way, and I'll start.

[He waits for Sherlock to slink off before taking a breath and moving from behind the car. He weaves his way toward the front of the crowd and makes a point of going up on his toes and craning his neck like he's trying to get a look at the scene when an officer he vaguely recognizes is looking in his direction.]

[howdull]

[It takes a few moments before the officer, Philip Harly, actually notices John. But when he does there’s a little double take and he radios from the walkie talkie on his shoulder quietly. Three officers start moving in John’s direction.]

Alright there, John? The DI said he’d like to see you.

[jumpthegun]

[John pretends to double take right back.]

Oh, uh... did he? I'm just passing by. Probably see him later. I'll drop round the station this afternoon.

[He starts stepping back through the crowd.]

[howdull]

No need, he’s on his way over. Why don’t you come over and sit with us until he gets there?

[Phil makes sure to stay in John’s eyeline as a non threatening presence, while three of his colleagues are converging from other angles.]

Sherlock here as well, is he?

[jumpthegun]

Nah, mate. He's checking the other bomb threat site. I've got an appointment to keep over there, sorry. I'll see you around!

[John turns and starts to run, only to see the other officers closing in. That's going to make this more of a challenge. His gaze darts around, looking for a gap in the 'net' and he makes for it, doing his best not to shove and jolt his ribs. It's unavoidable really, though, and it's not long before he's gasping less for the exertion and more for pain as he tries to get to a cleared area to put on a sprint.]

[howdull]

[As soon as John starts to run all of the police officers give chase, Phil audibly swearing before he joins in too. It’s perfect, exactly what Sherlock asked for, everyone’s attention is on John now.

He has a head start and the crowd don’t help, half of them getting in the way while trying to assist. For the first time in what might feel like forever, things might actually be going John’s way as he gets a clear shot at his hiding spot.]

[jumpthegun]

[John tries not to make any noise as he ducks down behind some cars and uses them as cover in his break for the alleyway. If he makes it to the bins, he'll scramble behind them and curl himself in small, putting his hand over his mouth and breathing shallowly through his nose. His ribs scream and he can feel the healing skin across his shoulders, under the plasters, tearing apart as he hunches. Hot tears prickle at his eyes, but he holds, listening for the sounds of the officers.]

[howdull]

[There's the sound of footsteps running past, but they don't think that he's hiding nearby. He's trying to get away, so clearly he's kept running, perhaps to warn Sherlock.

It seems like he's got away with it.

If he makes it to Sainsbury car park without passing out from that pain of that ill-advised run, Sherlock will be waiting by the large trolleys with two white suits and dust masks to disguise themselves.]

[jumpthegun]

[It's a very near thing. John's staggering a bit down the pavement, feeling extremely faint and probably looking extremely drunk at this hour of the morning. When John reaches Sherlock, the other man will see he's looking rather peaky, not a little like death warmed over. But he's clinging to consciousness and soldiering through. He survived a bullet through his shoulder and ensuing infection that really should have killed him. He can survive this.]

Just... just give me a moment. I'll be just a moment.

[He'll lean against the nearest large stationary object and just close his eyes, gathering himself together for what's going to be more pain as he pulls the suit on. It occurs to him that he should have pocketed the meds Molly bought for him before leaving the flat this morning. That was a terrible terrible mistake.]

[howdull]

[Sherlock waits with unusual patience while John catches his breath. He really should be paying more attention to John's physical state, perhaps he wasn't quite fit for this sort of thing. It has to be irritation that he's feeling at the potential loss of usefulness, not worry. Not concern, he doesn't do concern.

Yet somehow he stands still and silent, not offering any commentary, until John gives an indication that he's ready to start moving again.]

You take what's left of the crematorium in tact, and I'll survey the rubble.

[John does not need to be doing the heavy lifting and clambering job right now.]

[jumpthegun]

[He nods.]

All right. They might have left one of the alphabet things... like they did for Harry, if she's really... gone.

[A part of him is desperately hoping that it's a ruse and Molly's being held somewhere else. He'll trail after Sherlock, back toward the scene, before they put on their suits and duck under the police tape. As with the hospital, John just carries himself like he belongs there and doesn't get more than a passing glance from any of the officers or other technicians as they stroll right on forward.

John tries not to stare too long at any of the uniformed officers before they're into the building. He takes one of the intact rooms, trying to sort out where he even is, in relation to the rest of the building. It's been years since he's been here, and they hadn't stayed terribly long.]

[howdull]

[John might hear the other officers talking as he passes them by, bits of information coming in dribs and drabs. They've found the remains of bomb and detonation site among where the bodies are generally stored before being brought through to be cremated, but they have no idea why someone would want to bomb a locked and deserted crematorium.

Nobody has been injured, as far as they know, though the structural damage is intense and the resulting fire took a long time to put out. The worst of the devastation is around the storage and chapel areas.

If John makes it as far as where the services would have been held, much of this area decimated now and crunching underfoot, he might hear a weak and sporadic knocking from inside the actual cremation oven.]

[jumpthegun]

[There are other people in the room and John's attempting to look busy while just picking over the rubble. It takes him a moment to actually hear the knocking, but he's drawn toward the oven when he does, brow furrowed. With as intense as the fire had been, he's a little concerned about this thing being melted shut somehow, but it does deal with fire.

He'll try the latch and do his best to tug it open without hurting himself. There's a distant, hopeful flutter. Molly is clever. Molly Hooper is very clever. Much cleverer than Sherlock and certainly Jim give her credit for. Could she have...? Maybe?]

[gallowshumour]

[The door isn't melted shut, but it has buckled badly from the force of the blast and so jams after an inch or two. But that's enough for fingers to come shooting out of the gap, wiggling as if to create the maximum possibility for being seen, and a voice tight with pain to call.]

Hello? Is someone out there? Please help me, I'm trapped.

[It's definitely Molly's voice.

The oven hadn't been a perfect idea, there had always been a danger of the gases inside igniting and cooking her alive, but it had been the best she could improvise as a bomb shelter. Designed to keep fire in, it kept it out pretty well too, but the metal had buckled and broken one of her arms, and then she couldn't get out even after she heard the emergency services arriving.]

[jumpthegun]

[He grasps her searching fingers immediately.]

I'm here. Molly, I'm here. It's John. Oh, god...

[He raises his voice because there's no way he's getting her out alone.]

Help! Help, there's someone trapped!

[gallowshumour]

John?!

[She can't quite believe her ears, it's really him? She's not just gone mad from fear and started hallucinating, right?]

I'm okay, it's just my arm. Are you-- are you and Sherlock alright? Did he hurt you? I'm so sorry, I wasn't quick enough to stop him grabbing me.

[Footsteps start heading quickly in John's direction, three other officers and Sherlock at the front of the pack, long legs eating up the distance and relief evident on his face even above the dust mask.]

[jumpthegun]

[He lowers his voice.]

I'm fine. We're both fine. You need to pretend it's not me and Sherlock here, though. Please.

[After a moment he raises his voice, attempting a posh accent akin to Sherlock's to put off his identity after that shout. It's... mixed success.]

There's a woman in here. We need a crowbar.