The first thing Sherlock felt when he woke up was...well, nothing. Numb. His whole body was numb. His mind was a different story. It was sending overwhelming feelings of dread through his body. Something was wrong. But he couldn't remember what. Sadness. Dread. But no pain. He had to open his eyes. Assess the situation and figure out why his mind was betraying him. Emotions. They were taking over. Something must be very wrong. He couldn't open his eyes. Something was keeping them closed. Dry and wet. Too much effort.

Fingers. Movement. He tried to wiggle his fingers but the action wouldn't register. Wrong.

The next sensation he felt was someone shaking him. Gently, but at the same time, frantically.

He could barely hear his name being called, sounding as if it was being screamed from a mile away.

Worry. He had caused someone to worry. But how?

What could he have done to have someone to make them scream his name?

A slap throws Sherlock back into the present. His eyes blow open and his senses slam back into his body. His vision is hazy and everything around him is black so he closes them once more.

Someones yelling at him again. Why are they always yelling? The ringing in his ears has died down and suddenly everything is too loud. Sensory overload.

"Sherlock! Don't you dare fall asleep on me right now!"

More yelling. But this time Sherlock can hear it. Not far away anymore. Too loud.

He knows that voice. That voice belongs to someone important to him. John.

But the words are odd because John is always wanting him to get a few hours of sleep in. What's changed?

"Can you hear me?" Of course I can hear you. Don't be daft, John. "Stay awake."

"Tired," Sherlock says, but he's not entirely sure he actually said it out loud. Why won't John just go away so he can sleep.

"I know. It's going to be ok."

Of course it is, Sherlock thinks. John is just being over dramatic.

"You have a concussion so you have to stay awake."

Concussion? The word rolls around in his head.

Pain hits Sherlock like a fatal wave crashing through his body and suddenly he's aware of every feeling.

Trapped. Something is holding him down across his chest. His legs feel as if they have been crushed. His arms dangle uselessly and he can't find the strength to make them move. He can smell iron. Blood.

His sense of smell also picks up smoke. Burning?

Claustrophobic. The air around him is small as is the environment. As if the walls have moved together crushing everything in its path.

There's only one conclusion and when he finally gathers the strength to open his eyes again, his deduction is confirmed.