Greg pulled up outside Ryder and Sons Butchers and turned off the engine with a small frown. Next to him, Donovan rolled her eyes.

"What?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he responded. "Nothing."

"You're pulling a face. What's up?"

"Nah, it's nothing." he said, waving his hand. "Just that I thought Sherlock and John had already been here. Sherlock mentioned it earlier."

"Yeah, well Sherlock probably deemed what he found out 'boring' and dashed off to do something else, dragging John behind him. Quite literally, if they're handcuffed together."

"They are." Greg said with a small smile.

"I'm just glad I'm not in John's place, that's all I'm saying." Sally said as they got out of the car.

"Yeah, me too." Greg chuckled. "Stay here, this shouldn't take too long." Donovan leant against the car as Greg opened the door to the butchers, only to walk straight into a young man rushing out.

"Oomph. Christ, sorry." Greg muttered, realising that he'd hit the door against the man.

The stranger, who looked to be in his early twenties, merely paled at the sight of Greg. He looked between him and Donovan, and then at the police car.

"How did you know?" he rasped, "I haven't called anyone yet." He looked unsteady on his feet, and Greg gripped his shoulders.

"Know what?" he asked with a frown. He looked back at Donovan, who shrugged. Glancing back at the man, he was alarmed to feel him shaking. "What's your name?"

"M-Michael. Michael Taylor." he stuttered. "D-Downstairs..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Alright," Greg supplied, cottoning on to what Taylor was trying to say. "I'll go downstairs and have a look, yeah?"

"Wasn't me." Taylor rushed. "It wasn't me, I promise."

"Okay." Greg said, beginning to worry. "Donovan's gonna stay with you while I go see what's happened. I'll be back soon."

He looked over to Donovan. "Call an ambulance. He's going into shock, and from what he's implying, we might need one anyway." She nodded in response and put her arm around Taylor, leading him to the car.

Greg entered the butchers wishing he had some sort of weapon on him, but he'd left his taser on his desk at the Yard. Ahead of him was a wooden door that had been left ajar, and as he moved closer he saw that it led to a set of stairs leading downwards. At the bottom of the steps was another door, also open.

"Hello?" he called optimistically, but no one answered. Cautiously, he began to make his way down, remaining as quiet as he could.

"Don't be a body, don't be a body..." he muttered to himself, fervently wishing that Taylor had not discovered a corpse. As he moved further downwards, the decreasing temperature became more and more apparent, and Greg briskly rubbed his hands together for warmth.

Eventually he made it to the bottom, and he slowly pushed the door open further. Inside was a bare room, but the only thing he could note was that it was fucking freezing. He wanted to be in there for as little time as possible and so he stepped in, did an about turn – scanning the room as he did – and made for the stairs again. A sight in the corner of the room to his left stopped him though, and he turned towards the two bodies huddled together, feeling as if someone had just thrown a bucket of ice over him.

"No. No, no, no, no, no." he muttered, rushing towards John and Sherlock and dropping to his knees. The pair of them were as white as snow, and both their lips were tinged blue. One of John's eyes was badly bruised and had swollen slightly, and he was also holding his handcuffed arm as if protecting it from further harm. His head rested on Sherlock's shoulder, whilst the detective had one leg stretched out and the other tucked underneath the outstretched one. His head rested atop John's, and Greg clumsily pressed his fingers against John's neck, praying for a pulse.

Thankfully, there was one, and Greg was even more grateful when he found Sherlock's, too. He quickly got up and rushed to the doorway.

"Donovan!" he yelled, and moments later Sally appeared at the top of the stairs. "I need blankets." he urged. "There's some in the boot of the car. I need as many as possible. And send the paramedics down here when they arrive."

She nodded and ran off, and Greg went back to Sherlock and John, nearly collapsing with relief when he saw John stirring.

"Hey," he said, grabbing the doctor's shoulder and smiling when he saw his eyes gradually open. "It's Greg, I've got you now. I've got you."

"Greg." John murmured, lifting his head and consequently causing Sherlock's head to drop onto the doctor's shoulder. His eyes were half open and trying hard to focus on him. "Han'cuffs?" he asked, weakly raising his handcuffed hand.

"God, yes, I'm sorry." He drew the key from his pocket and quickly removed the handcuffs, chucking them away.

"S'not you fault." John muttered. "We worked it ou'."

"Good." Greg choked a laugh as a loud thump sounded behind him, announcing the blankets. He got up and collected them. "You two were driving me nuts."

John smiled, closing his eyes. "Sh'lck?" he asked.

"He's here, he's alive." Greg unfolded two of the blankets and wrapped them around John, before moving over to Sherlock with the remaining two blankets. "Ambulance will be here soon."

"His leg's broken." John mumbled. "Left one."

"Right, okay. What about you, are you alright?"

"M'fine." the doctor replied. "Jus' need to sleep."

"Fat chance." Greg muttered. "You're an idiot for doing so already."

"Sh'lock convinced me."

"I'm guessing you didn't need much convincing, either."

"Shu' up." John murmured with a smile. "S'cold."

"I know, John, we'll be out of here soon, don't worry."

"James Ryder..." he said quietly. "He killed Hannah Baker. Got us, too."

"What about Michael Taylor?" he asked.

"Who?" John replied, frowning at Greg, his eyes still trying to focus on him.

"Never mind." Greg said, dismissing Taylor from his list of those involved. "How do you feel?"

"Crap."

"I'm not surprised." The DI replied. "It's freezing down here." As if to prove his point, he rubbed his hands together.

"You don't say." John said dryly.

"Can you stand?" Greg asked, an idea popping into his head. "If I can get you upstairs, the heating's on so it's a hell of a lot warmer than it is down here." John was shaking his head, though.

"Can't move Sherlock, could do more damage to his leg." Greg got the I'm not going without him vibe John was giving off, so he let up. He decided not to mention the fact that he was only planning on getting John upstairs, as one warm person was better than no warm people.

"Eyes open, John." Greg said sternly. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

"You said amb'lance would be here soon." John argued. "Means that I can sleep."

"That's rubbish logic. No, don't you dare!" he shouted as the doctor's eyes drifted shut.

"Make sure... par'medics have more blankets... Sh'lck needs 'em..." He fell limp shortly afterwards and Greg gripped the edges of the blankets, ensuring he didn't slide to the side.

"John. John!" There was no reply. "Dammit!" he shouted. He looked across at Sherlock and felt for his pulse again. It was present, but very slow.

"You arseholes had better not die." he growled. "You," he shook John slightly. "You've told me what your sister's like when she's angry, and I will be very pissed off if I experience that if you die.

"And you," he pointed at Sherlock. "I have no intention of feeling the wrath of Mycroft Holmes so wake up!"

No one answered him, and he hung his head in defeat, still gripping the edges of John's blankets.

Sherlock woke up to a loud beeping noise somewhere off to his right, and he frowned slightly, trying to work out what it was. He didn't want to open his eyes in case he was in danger, and apart from the beeping, he was unable to hear anything else, suggesting that the situation he was in was highly treacherous–

"Open your eyes, you drama queen."

Sherlock did so, greeted by the sight of Greg Lestrade sat next to his bedside, and as he looked around he realised he was in a hospital. The events of what had happened previously came back to him, and he slowly turned his head back to face Lestrade, his expression adopting one of loathing.

Greg met him with crossed arms. "Don't look at me like that. I already apologised to John about the handcuffs." he said. "Not my fault if you weren't present for it."

"I rather think it was your fault inspector." Sherlock rasped. "Indeed, if I had not been handcuffed, it would have been simple for the two of us to incapacitate one man. I assume you've caught him?"

"Yes, we've caught him. He's in court as we speak. Won't be getting out for a long time, I reckon. Lady Morcar has been reunited with her necklace, too."

"Good." Sherlock replied, leaning against his pillow and relaxing, grateful for the presence of morphine that was dulling the pain.

"Where's John?" he asked, suddenly aware that the doctor was not here. "Is he alright?" He began to sit up, ready to get out of bed, but Greg held him back.

"He's fine, you nutter, lie back down." Sherlock conceded, and Greg sat back down.

"He's in the room next door. Sprained his right arm and he's got some nice bruises, but that's it. Better off than you, anyway." he said with a pointed look at his left leg, held in a thick cast.

"Broken?" Sherlock asked, and Greg nodded.

"A few months and it'll be right as rain." The DI said, and Sherlock harrumphed.

There was a knock at the door, and John stepped in. His right arm was in a sling and, as Greg had said, his eye was blackened, but other than that he appeared to be alright.

"Sherlock," John greeted with a smile, stepping closer. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll leave you to it." Greg said, getting to his feet. "Got paperwork to do at the Yard, and I've been putting it off by staying here."

"See you later, Greg." John responded as he sat in the DI's spot. "And thanks, by the way. You know, for finding us."

"Yeah well don't do that again." Greg replied. "Scared the shit out of me." He left the room, the sound of laughter following him, and he couldn't help but grin in response. He was thankful the pair had worked out whatever was going on between them, and he only hoped Sherlock didn't decide to take revenge on him for his intervention.

A/N: Finished! Thanks to all who read it, and I'd love a review to know what you thought! :)