a/n: Again with the apologies. In my writing partner and I's defense, we are both in the IB program and have a lot of homework every night, as well as other various activities that require ridiculous amounts of time. It takes a tremendous amount of time to finish these tasks, and by the time we are done we may as well be brain dead. It's a miracle we find time to do this story at all. Don't worry, though- we promise we won't give up on it! We'd like to thank each and every one of you that has followed and/or favourited this story- here's a shout out to you all! Thank you all so very, very much, and we're honoured you choose to read this story. Again, thank you for being so very patient with us. We're not going to leave another disclaimer, because frankly, if it isn't blindingly obvious at this point that we aren't the owners or creators of this show and book series, then you have the IQ of an Anderson. Enjoy!

JOHN

Sherlock still hadn't shown up and I was getting a bit worried. I looked around, and saw no trace of the dark-haired teen. I decided to go look for him. He most likely slept in, and no one had bothered to wake him. I stood up from the table and walked around, looking for his cabin.

Now that I think about it, Sherlock never told me who his godly parent was. Looking for him was going to be a lot harder than I originally thought. I would most likely have to go from cabin to cabin, but that would surely waste a lot of time. I stood still for a minute trying to come up with a plan to find him, and coming up with no better plan I decided to yell his name. Hopefully he would show himself. I continued to walk and shout his name.

"SHERLOCK! Sherlock!" I shouted. I hope this will work.
"Sherlock, where are you?" I yelled.

I continued this for several minutes, and once I was done, I waited to see if Sherlock would emerge from his cabin.

SHERLOCK

"SHERLOCK! Sherlock!" I heard someone calling my name. I groaned, and slowly sat up. Who was calling me? Then my brain recognized the voice. Oh. John. John was calling me. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why would John be calling me? Then I remembered. The meeting. Shite.

I tried to sit up, but couldn't. My body hurt too much. I tried to yell out for John. "John..." I moaned. I put the last of my energy into a shout. "JOHN!" I yelled. I heard the sound of someone rushing over, and then an intake of breath as someone gasped. "Sherlock?" I heard John whisper. I moaned in response. "Shite," he said. "Bloody hell, Sherlock, what happened to you?" I tried to speak, but ended up coughing instead. Probably broke several ribs, I self diagnose. I managed to get out, "Campers- cough- got me-cough-"

"Jesus, Sherlock," John swore, "We need to get you help. What did you do to make them so angry? Wait, never mind, don't tell me. You're obviously injured pretty badly." I coughed again in response. This coughing thing was fairly annoying. As was the inability to reply with a sarcastic remark. "No- don't get help," I managed to get out. "You- help me." Dear lord, was I going to be confined to monosyllabic words for the foreseeable future? I may end up having to shoot the walls again out of frustration.

"What- why?" John choked out, confused. "Just don't," I said through gritted teeth. The pain was coming in waves now. "Fine," he said. But I'm getting you some of- whatever that stuff was that healed you up last night. Don't go anywhere, alright?" He then ran off. I wondered if he even knew what he was looking for.

As if I could go anywhere, I thought darkly.

A/N: Did we mention this was kind of short? No? Sorry. Again, life and stuff. Hopefully, though, an adventure will begin soon! *cue dramatic music* Please leave us a reciew nd tell us what you thought! Love you all!

Signing off,

RainyDays-and-DayDreams and

dinosaurs-in-spaceships