Since John (Johnlock)

Unexpected

Sherlock stood in an empty hallway. He glanced around him in all directions and didn't see a single soul. What he did see was identical hallways intersecting where he now stood, so that he stood in a crossroad of sorts. The walls were stark white, as were the ceiling and the commonplace tile floor. If he didn't know better he would guess that he was in a hospital of some sort, yet it lacked the usually noise and bustle that should have been going on around him. There should have been nurses scurrying to and fro, clipboards in hand, dodging in and out of rooms. There should have been the orderlies pushing patients in wheelchairs to various tests and therapies. At the very least he should have been able to hear the monitors beeping or even the florescent lights buzzing overhead. Yet all he heard was.......silence.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" he called out. He waited for a response.....nothing. He looked around again, knowing that he was going to have to find someone to help him. But which way should he go? There were no signs on the walls telling him where he was or which way he should go. He decided to approach this logically and use the process of elimination. He would try one hall for a time and if he couldn't answer any of his questions he would simply return to this spot and try another direction.

He chose the hall to his left and began to walk cautiously. Every time he came to a door he knocked and tried to open it but they were all locked. It wasn't until he reached the 5th door that he noticed something strange. The further he walked, the more unbalanced he became. His breathing became more labored and his muscles felt like they were made of lead. A dizziness swept over him and he found it difficult to continue forward, as if he was trying to walk against a current during high tide. He leaned against the wall and took great gulping breaths to try to steady himself but it only seemed to make it worse. He decided to head back the way he came. At the very least, he could rest at his point of origin then decide on a different course of action.

Holding a hand against the wall for support he turned around and walked the way he came. After a few steps, he realized his breathing had calmed immensely and his muscles were returning back to their previous state, stong and lithe once again. Reaching the "crossroads" he was no longer supporting himself against the bare walls, but rather he felt as he did when he started: confused.

Not giving it a second thought he chose another hallway and proceeded to make his way down. This one, however, seemed to be getting darker as he walked, as if this hallway had no lighting of its own. Gradually the darkness hindered his ability to see where he was going. And with the darkness came another unusual sensation: burning. He felt as if he was burning from the inside out, a fire that was raging in his veins, his head, his chest. Alarmed he quickly spun around and headed back. Once again, as he approached his point of origin, the odd sensations stopped. Reaching the "crossroads", he was getting frustrated because he was no closer to any answers than when he started, and he definitely had more questions to answer. But he just didn't know what to do.

And he definitely hated not knowing.

He put his fingers to his temples and tried to access his Mind Palace. Maybe he had stored something that could give him a clue as to what to do. But try as he might, he couldn't find it. His Mind Palace was gone! It couldn't be! All those years of experiments and research had simply vanished. Sherlock was torn between weeping and roaring in frustration. He had used that information as building blocks so he could solve cases, and now he seemed as ordinary as everyone else. He belatedly wished John was here.....he would know what to do.

"Oh God....John!" he thought to himself. If he was here, where the hell was John?? Perhaps he was here somewhere, in another section of this strange place, just as lost and confused as he was. He had to find him.