Subway
"Why can't we just get a taxi," grumbled Sherlock, his arms crossed tightly across his chest and his bottom lip almost scraping the floor. He looked like an overgrown toddler.
"Because it was your idea to come to New York, and I want to take the subway."
"Oh but just look at everyone," seethed Sherlock. "That man in the seat across from us, clearly just visited a prostitute. The woman at the other end of the carriage? Went home with four men and a woman last night. And the couple with the baby over there? Kids hers, but not his."
John yanked Sherlock up by his elbow and dragged him through the open doors onto the platform.
"Remind me never to take you on the subway again," Hissed John. "In fact I might never take you out in public again. I almost wished you were back in London wrapped in that stupid blanket."
Sherlock laughed loudly, his normal mood returning. He removed John's hand and linked their arms, pulling him up towards the street.