Sherlock bit back any questions he might have had, and in light of their rather hazardous situation looked around for an escape route.
"Out through the back door?" He suggested.
"Go." John snatched up his white stick and followed the sound of Sherlock crossing to and opening the back door, stepping carefully through into the garden, relying on his hearing to keep him moving behind his flatmate.
Slipping through the back gate Sherlock found himself in a dark back alley running parallel with the road and the row of houses.
"Not fast enough." John muttered under his breath as they made their way back towards the underground station.
Sherlock grabbed his hand.
"What…?" John tried to pull away
"D'you trust me John?"
There was the merest pause for breath before he got his answer in the renewed grip on his hand, and the sound of a soft chuckle.
"Always."
"Then run!" Sherlock tugged, and suddenly the pair were flying down the alleyway, bursting out onto a side street. He led them across a road, zig-zagging through the traffic until they reached the station.
At a more sedate pace they walked, no longer holding hands, down to the platform. They were still gasping for air and giggling helplessly when they boarded the train.
John looked at Sherlock and grinned. "You mad bastard!"
