A Desperate, Painful Kind of Love

4

The closer he got, the worse it got. John was panting by the time he made it to Richmond Avenue, any faith rapidly dwindling along with the sweat threatening to obscure his vision. He was tired, no doubt. Fighting Moriarty's men, then running at a breakneck speed to his friend was taking its toll.

He didn't think he could run any faster if terrorists were on his heels, and his lungs burned with the effort, his leg and shoulder screamed in pain, but he didn't stop, not until he had to, when the destruction went from minor and superficial to blood and broken glass everywhere, the surrounding area not much more than bowed structures and debris. Dust filled the air, but a few yards away John could see Mycroft. The man had flown off in his helicopter the second the explosion sounded, and was helping dig through what had been a mid-construction apartment building.

It was a giant pile of concrete, plaster and brick. Metal rods stuck out at random like quills on a porcupine and shards of glass caught the light as the dust thinned. John would have been overwhelmed, taking in the horror of it all, if he wasn't so narrowly focused on one aspect: Sherlock.

The men were hefting away the larger pieces, moving thick slabs and large handfuls of remains while Mycroft yelled to Sherlock, shoveling the rubble in no real direction, desperately trying to find a sign as to where Sherlock was buried, a point where they could concentrate their energy.

John went forward, his gun dropping to the ground as he picked up the nearest chunk of building and tossed is away. He did it again, and again, and again, like working the assembly line, waiting for a glimpse of pale skin or dark curls to appear from under the wreckage.

Each piece felt heavier than the last, wearing down his skin, blood starting to splotch the concrete from his fingers as he tossed it away. He heard someone call in agents and medics, heard Mycroft and Gregson grunt in effort as they cleared the wreckage, but he still didn't hear Sherlock. Please, let him be okay.

It didn't take as long as he thought, and while that was one, merciful point in their favour, it was where the favours stopped.