Waking up…. It was like going backwards from dying. A horrible, horrible feeling. John didn't have a lot of time to dwell on the awful weight in his body, though. All thoughts were shoved out of his brain with the intrusion of a most obnoxious voice cheerfully booming over the intercom.

"Good morning!" it rang. John bolted upright and clamped his hands over his skull. "You have been in suspension for fi—" The voice shorted out and John was grateful. Numb fingers continued to work at his temples, trying to soothe out the dull throb. Suspension? What the hell?

John didn't have the opportunity to consider it further; the voice returned. "Congratulations—Test Subject #0129221B." John furrowed his brow at the abrupt change from the cheerily grating announcer to a robotic feminized recitation of some new identity he had. "You have been selected to compl—" another cutout, "—for the betterment of our planet. You are allotted ten minutes to acclimate and then the door will unlock. Please proceed through the hallways, following the blue arrows to the first testing chamber. Good luck!"

Acclimate. Right….

John looked around, rolling his shoulders as he did. He seemed to be in some cheap hotel room, decrepit and matte with a coat of dust. He sighed. How the hell did he get here? John leaned into himself, putting his hands over his face. He could remember the war. He'd been shot…. John tugged at the collar of his shirt until he could see the web of scar tissue that veined out from the bullet wound. The flesh was pale, though. Not the angry red and pink of a fresh scar. How long had he been here? John couldn't remember the hospital….

There was an angry buzzer and then the sound of a door opening. As much as John had no desire to comply with any of this madness without a proper explanation, he didn't want to stay in that room any longer.

Rising was slow. His bones were stiff and joints stuck like they had been glued. They made popping noises as he shifted out of the bed—a pit in the mattress conformed to the spot where he lay for the past…five years?—and John staggered away to the door.

The hallways were desolate and uneven. John leaned against the doorframe of his room for a moment, taking deep breaths and assessing his surroundings. The air was stale and still, hanging in the dark, crooked corridor like a promise of despair. A sigh huffed out of John's lips and he shook his head. With a determined set to his brow and a small nod of assurance, he started down the hallway, stumbling only once along the flickering blue lights of the arrows that would hopefully lead him to an exit.

"Wake up, Detective."

Sherlock blinked his eyes open and looked towards the ceiling. Sleeping? Really? That was a new one. Being in homeostatic suspension for so long must've impaired his ability to remain conscious for extensive periods. He took a deep inhale and then pushed to his feet, picking up the Portal Device as he went.
"Oh, good. Efficient as ever. I really could use more subjects like you."

Sherlock glanced around the testing chamber and placed his two portals—one navy, one cerulean—moving quickly to the opposite end of the room and onto a platform with a weighted cube.

"My efficiency is merely a reflection of how simpleminded your tests are," he said, levitating the cube with the device's anti-gravity function and then tossing it onto a nearby button.

"No need to antagonize me, Detective," the effeminate purr of the computer's voice said. "Just think of it as a nice warm up before plunging into the hellfire."

"Dull…."

Sherlock had been wandering about this crumbling maze of testing rooms and skeletonized back-halls for a few days now. After waking up in a stasis pod in some dark vault and finally clambering back up to the surface (that was day one and two), he found himself here. Or, rather, twenty-seven test chambers back. Here was number twenty-eight. And now the door was open to lead him to twenty-nine. Thirty was the last; the illuminated panels at the beginning of each room denoted such, along with other uncaptioned warnings (don't fall in the water; the lasers will kill you; cake?).

There must've been more, though. Perhaps another wing. No doubt this infernal woman had an entire labyrinth of rooms to navigate. That was fine. At least it would give Sherlock a conducive space to think while he tried to remember how he got here in the first place.

"Oh, Detective, I forgot to mention something," GLaDOS said casually as Sherlock entered the elevator and the glass doors slid closed around him.

"What's that?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

"After scouring the facilities for more anomalous subjects like yourself, I'm pleased to report that I've located one."

"This concerns me how?"

"Well, in the spirit of science, I thought I'd conduct a little experiment." The elevator settled and the doors opened again. Sherlock promptly exited, sparing only a second's glance at the panel on the wall. "You see, I've found in the past that co-operative partners in testing tend to have a much more interesting mortality rate. And that's among non-biological subjects."

It took Sherlock ten seconds to gauge the room and ascertain how to navigate it. As he worked around it, the A.I. continued.

"So I am hoping that with a human companion, you might be more amusing."

"Amusing?"

"Maybe he'll actually slow you down. Annoy you. Compromise your abilities to solve tests. Honestly, Detective, you're the best test subject I've ever had the pleasure of observing. But even your streamlined efficiency, though appreciated, is becoming predictably boring."

"Pardon me for being more intelligent than the rats you're used to." Sherlock reached the exit and moved quickly to the elevator.

"No need to apologize," GLaDOS said. "You can't help it, being human and all."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the whir and hum of the elevator as it took him deeper into the facility.

"I'm detecting increased levels of endorphins in your blood," the A.I. mentioned. "Are you excited about your prospective companion? I doubt your impending death is thrilling you as much as it is me."

"You're mistaken," Sherlock said. "Perhaps your readings are glitched. You haven't had maintenance on your motherboard for half a decade. I'm sure there's something rattling around in your systems."

"There's no need to be so defensive. I know how humans work. You crave company no matter how much a sociopath you may be."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and proceeded into the next chamber.

"Oh, right, you haven't been acquainted with the turrets yet, have you, Detective?"

-To Be Continued-