i was meant to be doing work. and then Sherlock ate my brain.
Sherlock/John, 1556 words
A chase through half of London's West End. Business as usual for them – Sherlock's long legs carrying him easily across roofs and over balconies, him lagging behind as usual, the phantom not-really-there pain of his leg nagging at him enough to make his gait unsteady, even now.