A/N: A long oone that just barely meets the limit? Only for you folks. Cheers, likewhattt.
John had never ran for his life with a child in his arms before. Actually, he hadn't ever really run for his life period. Baker Street seemed awfully leisurely compared to the day he'd been having.
It was exquisite however, running for his life. Hoping that somewhere in the tumble of footsteps behind them blue trainers and barefeet with remnants of soap were trailing. Sherlock was still in his bathrobe. John swore that if he got out of this alive he'd never let him live that one down.
A small hand slapped his face. "In there!" Little William kept slapping him, pointing to a door up ahead the corridor they were running down.
"But what if it's-" John started, but William slapped his cheek again, and he contemplated leaving the little bugger right there.
"It's unlocked. Now hurry!" Left with no other option, he gained on the door and flung it open for both of them to slip inside.
They hardly had to wait for the other two in their party came into sight. The Doctor spotted them first and jumped in, connecting the dots in seconds. Sherlock was two metres away, looking wildly for an escape.
John put his hand out and pulled on the nearest thing he could find, right when Sherlock was about to pass by.
He was whisked in, and John heard the whizzing lock of the door. He looked to see what he had pulled. It was the tie to Sherlock's bathrobe.