“I’m all out of cheats,” John announces that morning, at breakfast.
“What?” Sherlock says, and then immediately adds, “Ah, right. Caught up to yourself, have you?”
“Yep,” John says. “I’m not sure if I’m excited or terrified.”
“Can’t it be both?” Sherlock asks. John doesn’t get the chance to respond because Lestrade rings the doorbell just then, and breakfast has to be hastily abandoned in favour of a hot case.
After a few hours of running across London, being bludgeoned across the chest with a fireplace poker, and putting a man twice his size in a headlock, John finally finds a few seconds to catch his breath.
“Nothing permanently damaged, I hope,” Sherlock says.
“Just bruised,” John assures him. They watch as the protesting bad guy kicks a police officer in the groin. A few minutes later, leg restraints have been added to his attire, and four officers heft him up and head off, carrying him like a slab of meat for the spit-roast.
“That never gets old,” Sherlock muses out loud.
“I think you’re right,” John says, and grins up at the inquisitive look Sherlock shoots him. “It’s both.”
“I’m all out of cheats,” John announces that morning, at breakfast.
“What?” Sherlock says, and then immediately adds, “Ah, right. Caught up to yourself, have you?”
“Yep,” John says. “I’m not sure if I’m excited or terrified.”
“Can’t it be both?” Sherlock asks. John doesn’t get the chance to respond because Lestrade rings the doorbell just then, and breakfast has to be hastily abandoned in favour of a hot case.
After a few hours of running across London, being bludgeoned across the chest with a fireplace poker, and putting a man twice his size in a headlock, John finally finds a few seconds to catch his breath.
“Nothing permanently damaged, I hope,” Sherlock says.
“Just bruised,” John assures him. They watch as the protesting bad guy kicks a police officer in the groin. A few minutes later, leg restraints have been added to his attire, and four officers heft him up and head off, carrying him like a slab of meat for the spit-roast.
“That never gets old,” Sherlock muses out loud.
“I think you’re right,” John says, and grins up at the inquisitive look Sherlock shoots him. “It’s both.”
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