~Mark

"Are you dead?" I faintly heard a man ask. I felt something leathery lightly kick me in the back. Reluctantly I opened my eyes to see who was there. It was a man wearing a clean black suit with black business shoes and short jet black hair that was slicked back Draco Malfoy style. "Ah, you're not. Hello!" The man waved cheerily at me. "By any chance, would you know where a Mr. Sherlock Holmes is?" I grunted and rolled over onto my back so I could see the man better. He had a wide smile that I didn't trust at all. "I-I don't know." I lied. My guess that he was still at the store. But then again, he might've moved from there once he noticed I was missing. I was secretly hoping he did so this guy didn't find him. "You sure?" He lifted up a foot and slammed it down hard on my chest. I wheezed in pain as all of the air left my lungs. I even heard a bone or two snap, probably my ribs "Now I'm only going to ask this one more time. Where is Sherlock Holmes?!?" He shouted the last part of his sentence in my face. I struggled feebly to push the foot off of me. "I. Don't. Know." I gasped in pain. At least he seemed satisfied with my answer. He lifted his foot off of me. I inhaled sharply, even though my chest was burning in protest. "Very well then. I could've helped you ya know, but since you don't know..." He trailed off as he turned away from me and began walking away. "How?" I blurted as I barely managed to push myself up to a standing position. A wave of dizziness washed over me, making me almost fall down again. "With this." The man whipped out a small vial filled with blue liquid sloshing around inside. "The cure. If you tell me where Sherlock is, I'll give you this. If not...well, have fun with your slow and painful death while I find Sherlock myself. What do you say?" He offered the vial towards me. I felt tempted for a brief moment, but then I thought of my friends. How could I tell that he wasn't lying about the cure anyway? "No." I stated firmly. The man then did something I didn't expect. He started laughing as he dropped the vial. Instinctively I wanted to reach for it, but I forced myself to stand still and watch it fall to the ground. The vial shattered into a million pieces, causing the liquid to leak out. "Too bad then." With that, the man began walking away. "Wait!" I shouted. He slowly turned back around to face me. "Who are you?" I asked. "Why, I'm Doctor Machiavelli. Well, Sherlock knows me as Moriarty, but it doesn't matter. You probably don't know who that is. Nice meeting you..." He trailed off so I could tell him my name. "Mark." I supplied. "Right. Sorry." He apologized, then whipped a gun out of his pocket and fired it. I was unprepared. The bullet hit me in the right side. I dropped to my knees, then fell over on my side and felt the blood trickle from the bullet wound. "It's a shame really. I kinda liked you. Here's what I will do though. If you manage to live through the bullet shot, here's this." He showed me a small familiar vial before chucking it through the window of one of the mostly intact flats. "See ya!" With a wave and a smile, he walked off down the road, leaving me to bleed out on the sidewalk. "Great. Beats slowly dying by poison I guess." I tried to put a positive spin on my situation, but it seemed impossible. At least until I saw some figures far in the distant approach me just as I lost consciousness. They were going to help me. Or at least I hoped so.

~John

"Where are we?" I heard Jack groan from where he was trudging along behind me. It looked like we were in the center of London, but I couldn't tell for sure. We've been walking for miles along the pavement, keeping an eye out for Mark or any Uncured. So far, we've found nothing except smoking husks of businesses, homes, and cars. Suddenly, Sherlock, who was walking in front of me, froze in his tracks, causing me and Jack to stumble into him. He put a finger to his lips, then motioned for us to follow him into a nearby alley behind a faded blue dumpster. Whenever I peeked out from behind him, I had to put a hand over my mouth to keep from shouting. Standing in the middle of the street with a gun pointed at someone I couldn't see was Moriarty. He fired off a shot, then sauntered forward holding a clear vial containing blue liquid. I didn't dare move until Moriarty had walked past where we were hiding. I heaved a sigh of relief, then turned to face Sherlock. He was gone. Typical. "Who'd he shoot?" Aaron asked. I didn't answer because I didn't know. Hesitantly, I stepped out from behind the dumpster and went to investigate who he shot. It was Mark. He was curled up in a fetal position, blood pooling around him. His face was scarred with red rashes and even a few boils. He looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks, which was probably true. His backpack was lying a few feet away from him. "Mark?" Aaron stared helplessly at his dying friend. Jack was completely silent, his gaze fixed on Mark's chest that was rising and falling with each breath he took. "If the bullet doesn't kill him, the poison will." I stated grimly. Nonetheless, I pulled out a pair of tweezers, disinfection spray, and bandages, along with a roll of bandage tape out of my bag. I knelt down by Mark and carefully shifted him onto his back. His eyes were closed, his breathing labored, sweat pouring down his pale face. I took a deep, steadying breath as I put his head in my lap to try and make him more comfortable. "I'm sorry." I apologized before I put the tweezers in the bullet wound to find the bullet. It thankfully wasn't to far inside of him. Just as I found the bullet and had it in between my tweezers, Mark woke up and bolted into a sitting position, his head almost hitting mine. "Mark I'm really sorry." I apologized again as I gently pushed him back down and began pulling the bullet out. His teeth clenched, but he made no sound. I finished by spraying the wound with disinfection spray, then patching it up with a large bandage and wrapping bandage tape around his ribs. "Try not to breath too deeply." I suggested. Mark nodded in response, then slowly sat up, a grimace on his face. Jack nearly tackled him in a hug, tears streaming down his face. "Ow ow ow." Mark cringed. "Sorry." Jack blushed in embarrassment and stepped back. I found it hard to believe that before he was standing silently and expressionless only moments before. "Where's Sherlock?" Mark's eyes widened in alarm as he struggled to stand up. "Oh no ye don't!" Jack gently pushed him back down. "I don't know." I admitted. "I think he's chasing after that guy that shot you." Aaron guessed.

~Sherlock

As soon as I spotted Moriarty walking away, I knew I had to find him, otherwise he might disappear for good. I snuck out of the alley and followed Moriarty to London Chest hospital, the place where the disease began. Inside, I saw rows upon rows of vials with blue liquid lined up on shelves lining every hall. Moriarty then disappeared into one of the many patient rooms. As I reached for a vial so I could examine it, I heard the click of a hammer being cocked back. "Hello Sherlock. Nice to see you after so long." Moriarty greeted me pleasantly with the gun pressed into my back. "I would say the same, except it isn't." I replied coldly, my hands raised over my head. "Aw, that hurts Sherlock." He pressed the gun harder into the square of my back. "You're probably wondering about all the vials here. Between you and me-" he leaned closer to my ear. "None of them are the cure. Just blue dye mixed with water." He whispered. "There's only one so far, but you're going to have to catch me first if you want it." Moriarty taunted before retreating back and running up a set of stairs. I muttered a few curses before pursing him, adrenaline coursing through my veins and my heart pounding in my ears. It felt like he was always one step ahead of me, pushing shelves down to block my path, making sharp turns until we had reached the rooftop. "You came up here on purpose. Why? There's no where to run." We had both paused in the center of the roof. "So I could do this." Moriarty snapped his fingers. Several Uncured poured out of the doorway that and swarmed around me. He snapped his fingers again and one of the Uncured bit my neck. I yelled in pain and glowered at Moriarty. "Leave me alone and I'll give you the cure. If not...have fun being poisoned slowly." Moriarty negotiated. "I know you wouldn't save yourself, but I think your friend...what was his name? Mark? Needs it pretty badly, considering in a few minutes he's probably going to be dead from the gun shot I gave him." Moriarty smiled smugly. My thoughts were whirling through my head. How could I trust him? Does he really have the cure? I was just going to have to trust him and pray I'm not too late. "Fine!" I snarled. "I knew you'd pick the right choice." Moriarty tossed me the vial, then strolled back down the stairs with the Uncured following behind him. I glanced at the horizon, wondering if things would ever go back to the way it was. Smoke could be seen curling like a snake in the sunset, the golden sun sinking low with a backdrop of bright reds, oranges, pinks, and purples. I looked down at the vial sitting in my hand, then curled my fingers around it tightly. Mark risked his life for me. Now it was time for me to return the favor.

~Jack

"Hang in there Mark." I begged him quietly. He had lost consciousness again, but I couldn't tell if it was because of the Uncured thing or the amount of blood he lost from the wound. "We're losing him fast." John whispered to me so he didn't panic Aaron. "Where the hell is Sherlock?" I hissed to no one in particular. John's shoulders sagged in defeat. "I don't know. I hope he's alright." For the first time since meeting him, I realized how much John's been through. Going through war is not a very feasible task, much less surviving while those you care about fall. "I got it!" Sherlock announced, a small vial filled with clear liquid in his hands. On his neck, I noticed blood spilling out and teeth marks. "Sherlock-" "Not now John." He interrupted, then kneeled down by and poured the liquid in his mouth. "His fever is getting worse." Sherlock's eyes widened in alarm. "Damn it Moriarty lied!" He roared in rage, then threw the empty vial down, shattering it into oblivion. "Cure...building." Mark choked out. "What?" I knelt down beside Sherlock. "Moriarty....he-he threw-" Mark coughed more, blood dribbling from his mouth. "-he threw the cure on the building." Mark gasped in pain as he pointed over at a nearby apartment building. The building was charred, pieces of it crumbled off. "I'll go." John volunteered. Then Aaron surprised me by speaking up. "I'll go to." Aaron agreed. "Jack, watch Sherlock and Mark." John instructed. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong with him. Then I saw the bite mark on his neck. "I can play babysitter." I joked, trying to ease the tension that I could practically taste. John nodded, then motioned for Aaron to follow him carefully through the doorway. "I'm fine." Sherlock protested once John and Aaron had disappeared inside. "Sure ye crazy bastard." I rolled my eyes. Sherlock frowned. He slid off his trenchcoat, carefully lifted Mark's head up slightly, placed the trenchcoat under his head, then laid him back down. "I'm sorry." He muttered. "Moriarty promised me the cure if I left him alone. I was stupid to believe him." Sherlock shook his head in dissapointment. "Hey, it's okay. Ye risked your life to save him. I would've done the same thing." I consoled him. "Thank you." Sherlock sighed.

~Aaron

"Is this safe?" I walked carefully across the burnt wooden floor, trying to avoid any boards that looked weak. "I'd say yes, but that would be a lie so I won't." John replied. "Great." I muttered under my breath. We were on the floor below where Mark had pointed, so thankfully we were close. The only problem was that the higher we got, the less stable the structure became. Last set of stairs." John informed me as we approached a set of bent metal stairs that were made for emergencies. We were halfway up when one of the stairs gave out, dropping John who was a step ahead of me. He shouted in surprise and grabbed onto the edge of the step behind him. Suddenly, the whole staircase started shuddering and groaning. "Go!" John ordered as he managed to pull himself up. I ran the rest of the way up. Just as I about reached the next floor, the staircase collapsed completely, dropping down onto the floor below. I leapt in the air and managed to grab the edge of the floor. "John!" I cried. He had fallen down with the staircase and was laying on the floor pinned by his legs by the stairs. The floor creaked, then gave way, sending John plummeting down to the first floor. I forced myself to look away and concentrate on heaving myself up. "C'mon." I strained my arms to boost me up. Finally, I fell face first onto the floor, breathing heavily and sweat beading my face. "Cure. Gotta save Mark." I mumbled under my breath as I scanned he room. Lying on the pillow was a small vial filled with blue liquid. "Yes!" I exclaimed in relief as I picked it up. Suddenly, the building groaned and I heard metal supports in the walls snap. The building was going down. I ran back to where the staircase used to be, took a deep breath, then jumped down. I landed with a bang on the floor, my feet and legs burning with pain. "John!" I called out again, then coughed as dust from the building started raining down from the ceiling. No response. I then spotted his bag lying a few feet away. "What's going on?!?" Jack ran in with Sherlock following behind him. "It's John, he got taken down by a staircase."

~John

Great, survived years of bullets only to die by a staircase, I thought bitterly. Everything was dark and it was almost impossible to breath. My legs felt like they were hit with trucks and I had lost my bag that I had slung over my shoulder when I fell. Please let Aaron be okay, I prayed silently. Suddenly, I could see again. Jack was standing over me and shouting to the others. He then lifted the staircase up with the help of Aaron so I could get free. I managed to army crawl a few feet away before Jack and Aaron dropped the staircase back down. "John, are you okay?" The trio asked in unison. "Yeah I'm fine." To prove my point, I got up off of the floor. "You're gonna have killer bruises." Aaron stated. I looked down and saw that he was right. Both of my legs were covered with huge purple and blue bruises. "Ye sure you're okay?" Jack asked. "I'm fine, really." I waved him off. "Guys-" "Aaron's face turned very pale like he saw a ghost. "I lost the cure." "You mean this?" I revealed the dusty vial I had managed to rescue whenever I fell one floor down. "You accidentally dropped it trying to get up." I explained. Aaron visibly relaxed when he saw the vial. "Sorry." He apologized sheepishly. "Give it to Mark." Sherlock insisted. "What about you?" I argued. "Moriarty has shelves of them at London Chest." "Let me." Jack and Aaron said in unison. "No-" "Yes, you're all hurt except us. We got this." Aaron assured us. John sighed in resignation. "Fine, but be very careful and don't trust Moriarty no matter what." He instructed. They nodded and took off at a sprint. I knelt down by Mark, his face deathly pale, his forehead beaded with sweat and burning. "Please work." I begged as I poured the liquid in his mouth. At first, nothing happened. Crest fallen, I let the vial drop from my fingers. "Wait." Sherlock put his hand on Mark's forehead. "His fever's breaking." He stated with a grin. "Finally some good news." I grinned back. "How are you holding up?" I inquired as I started changing the blood soaked bandages out for new ones. "Other than really warm, I seem to be okay." Sherlock shrugged, then fell over on his side, unconscious before he even hit the ground. "Of course you're not okay." I grumbled. I tore off the sleeves of my shirt, soaked them in water from the bottles I had stored in my bag, then placed on on Mark's forehead and the other on Sherlock's. "John?" Mark croaked, his voice cracking. "Hey, yeah it's me. Jack and Aaron went to go find the cure for Sherlock." I told him gently. "Sherlock's hurt?" Mark instantly bolted up to a sitting position. "He's fine." I assured him as I gently pushed him back down. Mark didn't seem convinced, but he stayed laying down. "They'll be back soon, right?" Mark asked hopefully. "Honestly, I don't know." I admitted, glancing over at Sherlock.

~Jack

"I've been needing some exercise!" I panted with a smirk as Aaron and I ran side by side down the road. Looming not too far ahead of us was London Chest. "And I thought stuff like this only happened in video games." Aaron gasped for air as we slowed to a halt close to the gates. "There's probably cameras." I thought aloud as I scanned the gates. Sure enough, there was one on either side of the gates. "What do we do?" Aaron watched the cameras swivel side to side. "Cover them up." I said over my shoulder as I scaled the gate behind the camera, the tore part of the hem of my shirt off and placed it over the camera lens, tying it in a knot to keep it in place. Aaron seemed to understand quickly since he climbed up the other side and repeated what I did. I nodded in approval as I dropped back down. We had to repeat the process at the front doors. "Clear." I mouthed once we made it past the front door. Lined along the walls were shelves upon shelves of cures. "Let's grab one and get out of here." I whispered. Aaron grabbed two and handed one to me. We were close to the door when I felt something cold press against my back. "I really despise you." I growled. "That's not very nice." Moriarty pouted. Aaron was backing up slowly towards the door. "One more step and I shoot." He threatened. Aaron froze in his tracks. "I'd leave him alone if I were you." John warned Moriarty, a gun in hand and pointed at his head. "Very good John." Moriarty chuckled. "Stop being a condescending douche-bag." I growled under my breath. "Leave me alone and I'll let you all go." Moriarty promised slyly. John and I exchanged glances, both of us uncertain. "No way." Aaron blurted. Moriarty's eyes narrowed in suspicion. I took the advantage of his distraction by elbowing him in the face, shoving him away from me, then running out the doors with John and Aaron, laughing the whole way. "Good job Aaron!" I patted him on the back. "Thanks." He grinned. "John, is Mark and Sherlock okay?" I asked. "Mark is completely fine, but Sherlock's out." John replied. By the time we made it back to camp, John looked ready to collapse, his face scrunched in pain from the bruises on his legs. "You may do the honors." I gave John a dramatic bow as I handed him the cure I had grabbed. He snorted in amusement as he took it and gave it to Sherlock. A few moments later he was awake and well. "Can you like, copy this or something?" Aaron handed him our second vial. "Yes. It will take time." Sherlock cautioned. "It's the apocalypse. Time us the only thing we've got." I retorted.