Trust in Sherlock: Book 2

Chapter 37-Maggie's POV

I wasn't sure what woke me up, but I opened my eyes reluctantly. My room was dark, telling me that it wasn't quite morning yet. I turned my head and looked out of my window. The moon was lowering and the signs of sunrise were beginning to barely make themselves known. I would guess it was around 5 in the morning.

Wait.

Something was wrong. I could feel it. The heat. The smell. The distinct sound of crackling.

Was that smoke creeping in under my door?

Suddenly, all sleepiness left me and I tore the blankets off of my body.  I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and jumped down to the floor in one swift motion. Then, I stopped. Did I want to open the door? I could climb out of my window. I already knew what I would find.

I took a step towards my window when I remembered, "Mrs. Lancer."

I sprinted for my door, grabbing a shirt from my open closet, and tied it around my nose and mouth. It would do until I could get to the bathroom the dampen the cloth.

I held my hand out and twisted the doorknob as fast as I could. The burning metal sent a shockwave of pain through my hand, but I yanked the door open.

My eyes were dazzled by the sight of leaping flames and my burning home. I let out a strangled gasp, accidentally breathing a large amount of smoke and ash.

The walls. My couch. My papers. They were all burning.

I cough as I dropped to the floor, trying to find any clean air. I crawled to the kitchen and took off the shirt around my mouth. I dampened the cloth at the sink before reapplying it to my face.

I had no time to waste. I didnt bother crawling and maneuvered as quickly as I could through the flames. They seemed to come predominantly from downstairs. How long had my home been burning while I dreamt peacefully? How had I missed such a disaster? Why did I ever let my guard down?

I headed for my front door that led to the staircase. Sweat began to dot across my forehead and my lungs burnt as I coughed mercilessly through the smoke. The damp cloth helped, but smoke still gathered in my lungs. I needed to find Mrs. Lancer.

I made it to the stairs, skipping steps as I ran. On the third step, the old wood crumbled under my foot and I fell, my left leg plunging into the gaping hole. I grasped the railing, thankfully it remained sturdy. As I fell, I could feel nails and the splintered wood pierce and claw at my skin. I let out a short cry of pain as my skin was slit open. I stopped falling and immediately used every ounce of my upper body strength to pull myself out of the stairs.

I grunted and, finally, I was on my feet again. Despite the deep, long cut, I had to keep going. The pain can be fixed later, but I wasn't going to die here. Not now.

I finished my run down the stairs and reached the first floor. I cast a longing glance towards the front door. I could do it. I could get out. I could save myself.

"Help." A weak voice came from behind me.

I snapped out of my haze, fire and ashes still leaping out at me. I spun around and sprinted down the burning hallway, towards Mrs. Lancer's flat. "Mrs. Lancer!" I shouted through my coughing fit.

I heard nothing, causing another strike of panic to flood through my chest along with the smoke. My lungs burnt and as did my skin. Sweat coated my body and soaked into my shorts and shirt.

I leapt over the sections of the floor that had already been eaten away by the fire. I ducked under wooden beams, nearly being struck a few times by falling bits of the ceiling.