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They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril.
They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear.
Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”
Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods.
Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.
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