Sherlock listened to his friend's footsteps on the stairs, Is he limping again? "John! You are late!"

"Get me the first-aid kit will you please," the other man called from the stairwell.

Sherlock turned o the doorway, from the window he had been looking out, and saw his friend, "And you are bleeding!" he hadn't expected to see that.

Having been attacked not too far from 221B Baker Street, and now sporting a gash to his leg, John was not in the mood for his usually brilliant friend stating the obvious.

"No SHIT, Sherlock!"