WhoLock Imagines

Apocalypse!AU- Johnlock

This is a one-shot inspired off a post I saw on iFunny. I attached it to the end of the chapter.

I was originally planning on this being an entire book, but I decided to cut it down a bit and squish it all into a chapter. Also, may I add that I have never seen the Walking Dead so this chapter is not based off of it. If anything, it's based off World War Z, but not really.

May I add that I did not edit this chapter, so please point out any errors or plot holes.

No one knew how it started, but John Watson had a theory; Mrs. Hudson left London. She left the day before the Zombie Apocalypse started. She hadn't exactly left- she had died of natural causes.

But there was nothing natural going on now.

The day after she died, Sherlock and John were investigating a strange case. Lestrade wasn't sure if it was a murder, suicide, or just an accident. However, it was no death. The 'victim' jumped to his feet a few minutes after the detective arrived at the crime scene.

The man lunged at nearby officer and bit at his neck. To John's astonishment, the officer started shaking, letting out screams of agony. His skin paled and his eyes sunk.

"John," Sherlock warned, sensing the danger of the situation. He grabbed his friend's arm and tugged him backwards. His deep blue eyes were trying to watch everything happening- the 'victim' was continuing to attack other policemen. The bitten man was now on his feet and acting like an animal. He scrambled this way and that, biting anyone he got close too.

It was like a chain reaction. The crime scene was now undergoing some supernatural frenzy.

Sherlock grabbed his gun and aimed it at the heart of a bitten policeman. He fired quickly, effectively getting a direct hit.

The former officer only turned at them and let out an inhuman screech. John's eyes widened in fear as Sherlock shot him again in the gut. Which only seemed to get the man mad as he scrambled furiously towards the ex-army doctor and the detective. Sherlock fired once more, striking the man in the head, effectively destroying the brain. Only then, did the man collapse and move no more.

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-.-One year later-.-

"There is no cure!" Mycroft shouted. "I have spent fortunes along with every billionaire, medical clinic, and member of royalty on research. We are nowhere close to reviving the millions- no, billions of people we lost."

"You must have something," Sherlock argued.

"Is that your way of saying that you don't know what else to do? That you, with your 'great mind' has nothing?"

Sherlock said nothing. He turned away from his brother and walked towards the window, glancing down at the empty streets below. Garbage was littered everywhere, leaves were falling from the trees, and the electric fence loomed only a few yards away. He met the gaze of what mankind had come to call a 'zombie.'

Her eyes were crazed, yet dull. They sparked upon seeing Sherlock and she ran at the fence, only to get shocked. He listened to her screeches and watched as a soldier walked over and shot her between the eyes. The detective shook his head and turned away. He had other things to think about.

"Our food stores are going to run out soon," he muttered. "There's not enough arable land within the fence. With winter coming and more survivors coming in-"

"What are you thinking, Sherlock?" Mycroft paused and glanced back towards his brother.

"I need to go out with John, on the next patrol. In fact, I will join the military force."