John ran.

He ran through the alley, he ran through the street.

He stopped when he found himself in the middle of Piccadilly Circus, surrounded by flashing lights and the loud shriek of many taxi horns around him.

He turned to the closest taxi, whose driver promptly raised two fingers as a friendly 'hello', and realised he was in the middle of the road.

John stepped onto the nearest pavement and shook his head.

What the hell had just happened? And where the fuck was Sherlock?

Sherlock.

John turned around to face the direction he sprinted from to see a figure staggering from the shadows into the glare of the TDK advert.

John breathed a sigh of relief. Sherlock.

Sherlock squinted his eyes against the bright advertisements which had suddenly invaded his vision.

John could see a trail of blood dripping down the side of his face, attempting to drop off of his jaw.

He quickly crossed the road (carefully this time) and briskly walked towards where Sherlock was standing. He immediately looked into Sherlock's eyes, seeing if his pupils were dilated, checking him over for any permanent damage.

Thankfully he only found a small cut on Sherlock's forehead which seemed to have let out much more blood than it seemed capable of.

"John-"

"Shut up, you're ok."

Sherlock smirked.

"Blatantly."