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I’m only wearing pajamas. Is the only thought running through John’s head as he makes chase on the American Spy down the front steps of 221B and out into the pelting rain.
Sherlock is ahead of him, “Come on John!” he calls back and John can’t help thinking that it should become the detective’s new catch phrase.
Perhaps it was too much to ask for Mycroft to keep his nose out of their plans this time. Mary needed to be dealt with in an appropriately quite e manner, it needed to be well thought out and Sherlock even had several backup plans he was currently working on.
But all would be undone if Mycroft’s favourite blond American arsehole made good on his little plan to steal the thumb drive. Whether the spy was working on Mycroft’s orders or not was beside the point John thought, it was the principle of the thing. Sherlock had dropped him out of window once - several - times before, he would do it again. With John’s assistance.
It would appear that luck was on their side, the American took a swift left turn down an alleyway and without Sherlock even having to call back John immediately bounded up the fire escape and pulled himself up to the roof. Slipping, sliding and hopping from one roof to another John easily kept pace with their would-be burglar.
Sherlock was forced to skid to a stop as a speeding cab cut off his chase. “John!” He yelled glancing up, but John was already airborne. Leaping from one rooftop to the raised staircase throwing all his weight down caused the stairs to snap open and extended frighteningly fast towards the pavement.
Mr American Spy didn’t stand a chance. John had him pinned, his faced smooshed into the bitchumen, hands behind his back before the staircase had even slammed into the footpath.
“‘Geroff me!” The American grunted. “Fucking lunatic!”
“Good work John!” Sherlock praised happily, his hands already swiping across his smartphone's screen to contact his meddlesome brother.
“Sherlock!” John gasped as he struggled to keep the American pinned, “Some help?”