I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK HOLMES OR ANY OF IT'S CHARACTERS!

My first PROPER Fanfic! Please go easy ;)

Enjoy!

He felt his pulse run quick as the officer before him crumbled in a heap on the floor, writhing in pain as crimson painted his chest. It took Watson only a moment to realise there was something deeper, someone was watching. He quickly rolled to the side and rolled to the closest cover possible, catching his breath as his back met with the cold, hard steel.

What now...ugh, damn it! He thinks, wandering what course of action to take. He hears warning shots fired and feels a light vibration on the pillar, hurriedly making his decision. He pulls out his only weapon of defence, his trusty pistol, then with one swift movement he turns, only slightly, to his side when raging bullets zoom past him, extremely too close for comfort.

He turns again, preparing to fire, but once more the attacker beats him to it. He winces and quickly retreats as the seemingly-never ending bullets take to a temporary halt.

What do I do... there must be some logical plan... damn it Holmes, this is your entire fault! He attempts to find an escape route, somewhere to run, and with any luck, get away. He takes a breath and looks around... he knows that it would be almost impossible to run to the sides, as he had roughly discovered that the offender on the other side is definitely one not to be taken lightly...

I should at least get an idea of his position, which might do me some good...he takes, another deep breath before finally realising- there's music playing... loud music is playing in the background, an old classic tune... oh this can't be good... what have you gotten us into Holmes... his thoughts rush through his mind again as he contemplates his next moves on discovering the other's location. Guess I'll just have to be quick and sharpen my sight. He shakes his head and twists to side, more ammunition flies his way, he draws his weapon an attempts to fire when-

AHHH!

He pulls back quickly, his eyes wide with disbelief. The scream that had rung out through the area was Holme's, of that he was sure, but wished he was incorrect, for the scream that had erupted was that of a tortured man's... no one on earth deserved to go through such pain, and Sherlock was definitely no exception.

I have to get there fast...

More screams of extreme suffering and hurt followed, continuously echoing as though a back-track for the already playing music itself.

One last time in urgency Watson curved himself, and then quickly withdrew. His eyes had taken in just about where the shots were coming from, and decided on one final test.

He was just about to draw the newspaper boy hat that currently lay on his head, but stopped himself when one last tormented cry blasted through his ears like a torturous sound of pain. He flinched, but nevertheless continued his task. He brought the hat to his side only slight, and dragged it back in lightning speed when he felt a shot fly right threw it's centre.

Damn... there's no way I can out-run this guy...

His eyes were wide once more. He clenched his teeth as all the music died away, thankfully, and turned his head upward as if to find the key to his answer there.

The dark pitch-black sky was certainly not helping, but as he was about to give up in vain something caught his eye...

Ear muffs hanging from some sort of wire...

Why would there be Earmuffs there? Unless...

He whipped himself around and to his great thankfulness and luck, was none-other than a very dangerous and peril, not to mention extremely useful in this situation, canon.

Oh just my luck!

His eyes lit up in great triumph and appreciation as his lips found their way into a smirk. No time to waste. He acted quickly. Before him was a ladder, luckily it seemed stable, which lead and connected to the sever threatening weapon. He closed his eye lids for a moment, then without second though, charged forward. He hastily reached the ladder, without striking any unwanted attention.

One foot in front of another, he began to climb, and climb. It didn't take very long, and sooner rather than later he was at the top.

His eyes scanned around the area as he found the same wire with the Earmuffs on them. He immediately reached forth with his hand, after leaning forward slightly, and finally attained the ear-wear. With another swift movement, they were off the fire and onto his ears.

Hang on there Holmes, hang on, I'm almost there...

He took in another gulp of air before pushing both his arms forward and after feeling the khaki coloured, old and torn cover of the weapon, pulling it off as fast he could, and watching it sink to the bottom of the pillar holding the warhead up. He took one last glance at the ground beneath him, before securing his Earmuffs, and then lightly crouching, and grabbing the thick rope that lead to the canon.

I can do this...

He held onto the rope securely with two slightly shaking hands, twisted to the side, and carefully but not too slowly began aiming the weapon. A little to the side, he remembered, reminding himself of where his attacker had last been, then a little up, just right on the lighting tower...

There we go...

He cleared his throat before finally tugging on the rope with as much force and power as he could manage, and then heard the satisfying and loud thud of an ultra dangerous weapon going off. The blow had him losing the rope and almost losing all balance itself, but fortunately, he managed to stay upright as he saw the large, completely solid, iron canon ball launch itself onto the gleaming light tower.

Watson realised too late, however, where that tower was shedding its light. Below it, a little to the right, was what seemed like empty storage units or rooms... it also seemed like it was where the music and loud screams had erupted from earlier.

He watched in complete angst and utter horror at the place his best friend, and practically brother, was most likely at, become crushed under the overwhelming weight of the tall, over-looming building, leaving nothing but debris and a thick space of dust.

He rushed down the ladder as fast as his legs would take him, and hurriedly began to jog as speedy and expeditious as followed, whilst a million thoughts over flooded his mind;

What if he was hurt? Well of course he was hurt! Why don't you try getting tortured in the most inhuman way possibly, then have a damn building falling on you!

He shook his head of all thoughts, trying his best to clear his mind as he rushed forward, but failed miserably. The thought of the great Sherlock Holmes getting hurt in such a devastating way would be too much to take. Simply too much.

His breath was coming out in loud, long gasps, as he begun to tire from the long trek, however he would not give up.

I will not give in!

He raced faster than before then halted once at the scene. Concrete lay all over as the smell of dust and dirt clawed its way to his senses. He hadn't even noticed that not only had his hands begun to tremble, but the rest of his body too.

I will find him. Alive... I will... I must.

In the entire midst of pure, complete and utter devastation and desperation, he had started to call out his close friend's name.

"HOLMES! HOLMES!" He leapt over some fallen pieces of what he assumed was the roof, and continued his search.

It only took him a matter of seconds.

As he looked down, he saw nothing but the beaten and hurt face of his friend.

"HOLMES!" He yelled relief passing through him like a giant wave, bigger than any tsunami. He promptly kneeled beside him. Quickly moving his hands to the debris which had unfortunately tumbled upon his partner, he threw of everything which lay on the pained person.

Watson took a closer look at him, only to discover blood. A hook was embedded in his shoulder, deeply, as was connected to a rope which Watson only assumed had also lead to the ceiling.

Sick bastard...

He cursed, shaking his head. Holmes had lost too much blood as it was, meaning they had to get out of here, and quickly. He took sight of his friend a finale time before positioning his hands over his chest, and with one powerful pull, the hook was out of the other's flesh. a wince however, did not fail to escape Sherlock's mouth as his eyes fluttered open through under his ruffled up and messy hair hair,

"It's always nice to see you Watson"

"How did you know I would find you?"

"You didn't find me. You collapsed a building on me."

And there you have it ladies and gentlemen.

Please review if you'd like me to make this a multi-chapter story!

Although I'm not sure if it's that good, but hey, a girl can always hope ;)