Before Falling yet After Drowning

Chapter Six

Sherlock and and John sat on the floor, backs against the wall. Sherlock was in his mind palace, and John was twiddling his thumbs and counting down the seconds until his companion came up with a brilliant escape plan. Yet none came to him. He sat there in total silence, hands pressed together as though he were praying, biting his bottom lip.  

John inhaled, trying to keep calm. Smelled the dank air as it rushed into his lungs. He held it there, pressing his mouth into a thin line. He then exhaled loudly, as though trying to expel his anxiety out of him. He repeated this cycle multiple times, until Sherlock had finally had enough. "Could you stop that?" He snapped.  

John bit his tongue, then replied, "What, stop breathing?" His voice was laced with sarcasm, but Sherlock seemed unable to detect it.  

"Yes, if you would," he replied, turning away.  

They sat there in silence, Sherlock combing through every inch of his mental hard-drive and John trying to keep from breathing too loudly. Eventually, John broke the silence. "Sherlock," he began, then paused.  

His companion sighed and turned to look at him. He was getting nowhere, so it couldn't hurt to try and listen to what John was saying, even if it would require all of his effort to feign interest.  

"D'you...do you think this is real?" 

The question caught the detective off-guard. He'd been expecting the usual trivial stuff, discussing meaningless topics to keep John's worrisome mind occupied. For some reason, the topic of Sherlock's skull on the mantle usually seemed to pop up.  

But this- this was different. John had actually thought about their situation, considered every single aspect. And he'd come to the same conclusion Sherlock had only a few hours ago when he'd stepped inside the Doctor's blue box: this was all just inside his head. 

Sherlock didn't know how to respond. John took this as an opportunity to further voice his thoughts aloud. "You don't think that we've been...drugged, or anything, do you?" 

"No," Sherlock was quick to respond.  

John glanced at him suspiciously. "What makes you so sure?" 

"Let's just say that I've had my fair share of experience with hallucinogenic drugs, and none of them were as vivid as this. Or unpleasant."Sherlock exhaled, pulling himself to his feet with the help of the wall. 

"Oh really?" John stood up as to not feel looked down upon, though his friend still had quite a few inches on him. He chuckled halfheartedly. "Should've known." 

Sherlock didn't respond, quickly losing interest as their conversation started to drag. John wasn't about to let him off the hook just yet. "So if this is real-" 

"It is," Sherlock interrupted.  

"Yeah, okay," John humored him. "So this place, wherever we are-" 

"Under the River Thames, haven't you been listening?" the detective interjected.  

"Yes, I know," John tried to regain his composure. "So, if we're trapped here, what're we supposed to do?" 

Sherlock tilted his head slightly to the side, staring at John as though he were a young clueless child. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" 

John continued to stare blankly at him. Sherlock sighed and elaborated. "We need to rescue the Doctor. Whatever took him away clearly wasn't from this world, and the Doctor's the only one of us with knowledge about extraterrestrials. Plus, find the Doctor, and we find Moriarty. I'd love to have a nice chat with him, we haven't spoken properly since our meeting at the pool."