Chapter Text
Day One:
The first thing Sherlock wants to do when he sees the zombies is experiment on them. John is not surprised of course but the zombie that Sherlock attempts to steal an eyeball from certainly was. To be fair the eye was dangling from it's socket and seemed to annoy the creature but John figured the insult was there all the same.
"Can zombies actually be insulted?" John asked as Sherlock dangled an old lung (last week’s experiment) on a fishing wire outside their window.
"Doubtful. And I believe 'zombie' is politically incorrect. The government has termed them Voids according to Mycroft.”
“That’s a rubbish name,” John protested, watching as three zombies tried to fight over the lung only to lose it to a passing crow.
“Damn,” Sherlock cursed. “That was the second of the pair,” he groused as he reeled the fishing line in.
“You wasted the first one trying to tempt the one with the dangling eye. I really think he was slightly miffed you tried to rip it all the way out.”
Sherlock huffed as he raided the fridge for more body parts and John hoped that the lung had been the end of them.
“The government penned the infected Voids for a reason, John. They are completely empty. They do not feel or think or sleep. The simply continue.”
John shivered as a chill went through him. Just thinking about being like that made him want to put a gun to his head. He then sighed as Sherlock pulled out a fresh, dripping liver from a Tupperware container and went on to wrestle it onto the fishing hook.
“Is this really necessary?” John asked. “Why in God’s name to you want to fiddle around with them?”
“Why do you think?” Sherlock asked standing with the fishing pole in a way that made John think about harpoons and pigs blood. Easier times those were.
“Enlighten me,” John replied, deadpanned.
“To find a cure, naturally.”
“A cure,” John stated flatly. “You. Trying to find the cure?”
“Yes, John. Do keep up.”
“Why would you want to find a cure?” John demanded, holding himself back from grabbing Sherlock as he leaned precariously out the window.
“To prove I can,” Sherlock said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
And really, John thought while Sherlock let out a yell of triumph (apparently zombies preferred liver over lungs), it kind of actually was.
“John! Fetch the harpoon and the fishing net! I don’t think he’s going to come without a fight!”
Resigned to his fate John did as he was told. Because honestly, if anyone was going to find a bloody cure for this thing, it would be Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock’s notes, Day One.
- No cure as of yet
- Brain matter is difficult to get out of the following
a) Wool
b) Wallpaper
c) Silk
d) Hair
e) John
- Voids are more attracted to fresh body parts
- Birds enjoy lung