Fire. Pain. Blood. Noise. Light. Too much. Too fast. Burning.

The explosion rolled all around Watson. Through Watson.

A rush. Darkness. Coolness surrounded him.

Another roar of fire. Watson could feel it in his leg but his body wasn't covered by fire, he was cool. And beneath it, a different warmth. His back, no longer offended by cobblestone, was being supported. Watson realized his eyes were closed and he dared to open them.

Holmes.

Holmes was above him, holding him, beneath the tarp that protected them both from the fire and splintering wood. Their eyes locked and the look in Holmes's eyes was one Watson would never be able to rid from his memory. Just as Holmes would never be able to forget Watson crying his name when he realized he'd tripped the wire.

Despite their many close calls, Watson had never seen pure fear take over Holmes's face. As if he saw death was here. Here, all around them. Their eyes held them together; a lifeline amidst the chaos.

The tarp was tight around them, a duplex cocoon as another explosion ripped through them. As it did, a thought leaked through to Watson's mind. If this was, indeed, the end of all things, he was glad to be looking into those dark eyes just one last time.

Silence.

Neither breathed as they waited for death to claim them but the silence persisted. Holmes's expression slipped into relief. He allowed his eyes to close, head falling forward and he sunk into Watson. Holmes held his companion tight to him, pressing their faces together in an embrace strong from the tips of his fingers to the center of his chest. Holmes took a deep breath that Watson could feel in his chest and on his cheek and neck.

A rush. Coolness.

"Are you injured?" Holmes asked through the distance now between them.

"Not too badly, I think."

Holmes spun and ran passed the shattered remains of the factory towards Irene.

Watson allowed himself fall back onto the cobblestone while tiny fires died around him.

Silence.