30 Days. (Part 1 of the 30 Days fanfic series)

Fifteen: The Cure

Sherlock felt his back hit against the counter behind him as John lunged, wincing in pain. "You won't be talking once I've ripped out that throat of yours!" the smaller man snarled. Sherlock shoved him back and turned to run, only to be jumped by John, whom wrapped strong arms firmly around his neck, attempting to choke the life out of him. Sherlock struggled, fighting desperately for air. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake the Half-Diseased John off of him. He tried not to panic, continuing to struggle. Then, once he began to think his life was over, he felt John's hands around his neck loosen and heard a thud. When he turned, he noticed Molly standing before the other man, who laid on the floor, knocked out. Molly held her baseball bat over her shoulder, panting. "You ok?" she asked Sherlock. The detective took a moment to recover and gulp in air before answering her. "Well, other than the fact that I nearly got choked to death, I'm doing great."

"I could use a 'thank you', you know."

"I could use a smoke, but it looks like that's not happening anytime soon."

"Still a cock, even in the middle of an apocalypse, Sherlock?"

"Now you're starting to sound like John. Will he be alright, by the way?" Sherlock instantly forgot about exchanging witty remarks with the female pathologist, staring down at the unconscious John. His heart filled with emotion as he remembered how the fake John Watson attacked him, a promise to end his life in his changed eyes. Sherlock shivered slightly at the memory. How much more could he take of this? Molly looked at him, then down at John. "Yeah, he'll be alright. He may be out for a while, though, but keep an eye on him when he wakes up. Half-Diseased can be so unpredictable, and the disease in John' system could be getting worse. Which means he may still be in the state even when he's awake." Sherlock nodded, once again taken aback by this woman's intelligence of this whole thing. Even John didn't know so much. "Do you have any idea of when he may slip into the state?" he asked, unable to stop his curiosity of wondering if Molly had any idea, despite his annoyance at being less intelligent for once. Molly nodded to his question a she spoke, "Yes, actually. I have been watching John carefully ever since you told me he's Half-Diseased, even when we were all talking. Studied the way looked. He looked nervous and worried, which may have riled the bad side of him."

"So what you're basically saying is, we have to keep him from getting too worked up?"

Molly shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah." She then looked down at John again. "Well, come on. Let's get him in the storage room; it's safe and cool in there, and I keep my supply of food and water in there. It looks we're all a team now. Assuming you know what a team is, Sherlock?" Molly had begun picking up one end of John carefully, a hint of a smile on her lips as she said the last part. Sherlock leaned down to pick up John by his shoulders, grunting with the effort. "Of course I know what a 'team' is, thank you very much," Sherlock muttered defensively, sounding all to the apocalyptic world like a child. The two carried John into the storage room, setting him down near the wall.

Sherlock then sat down with a sigh, Molly doing the same. They were quiet for some time, the detective staring at his friend who looked dead to the world, and the pathologist stared straight ahead at nothing in particular, her knees drawn up to her stomach as she hugged them tightly.
"You know, even as someone who believes in things like miracles, I never thought something like this could happen. I always thought it was impossible." Molly had spoke, hating the silence and deciding to break it to avoid further awkwardness; even though she felt awkward for speaking anyway. That's what Sherlock Holmes did to you: made you feel awkward. She didn't think it was his intention, but. . . He had that kind of effect.
"Yeah, well, I've never believed in miracles, so it makes this whole thing for me worse." Sherlock replied. Molly looked at him with a grin. "That's good to know. You're starting to learn."
"You seem. . . Different."
"That's what an apocalypse does to you, I guess." Molly shrugged half-heartedly. Sherlock looked over at John after these words, frowning. "Yeah. I guess."