There was rioting outside. People were aggressive and their flight or fight instincts were thrumming and these people weren't running. It was also raining heavily.

And Sherlock and John were trapped inside Scotland Yard. Locked in a small room with Anderson, Donovan, Lestrade and Dimmock.

Someone was going to die.

"I can't see why you won't let me leave," Sherlock said, again trying to reach the barricaded door.

Lestrade turned to Sherlock, "You almost get punched daily when people aren't rioting. I'm not sending you out there now."

"Please do," Donovan muttered.

As if a cue, the shouts and screams grew louder. There was a smash. "There goes that window," John muttered, feeling safer inside the Yard than outside it despite his military past.

Dimmock came out with the first helpful comment of the evening. "Shouldn't we be out there helping?"

None of the others found the idea appealing; aside from Lestrade (who was too nice) and John (whose soldier instincts told him he had to protect civilians, despite the civilians doing the damage.).

"Why would we do something as idiotic as that?" Sherlock's tone was snide.

Lestrade sighed.

There was a quick flash of light before the room went pitch black, the computers whirring to a halt.

"A power cut," Sherlock snarled sarcastically. "Well this just can't get any better."