Sherlock led the way up a rickety staircase, his loyal blogger following. The building they were going up creaked in the wind, but the two men kept running, knowing if they stopped the consequences could be fatal.
John reached the top of the building and ran smack into Sherlock. He watched as Sherlock stepped backwards, took a deep breath, and ran across the roof. When he reached the end John cried out, but the detective launched himself off the edge of the building and disappeared.
"Not again!"
John raced to the edge to see Sherlock on the roof of another building, lower down than the one he was on. Without hesitating, he followed, and they kept running together.
A few minutes later, when they were on street level, they ducked into a dark alleyway. John was leading for once as they ran along, until he crashed into a wire fence at the end. They started to climb, but were stopped by more footsteps in the alley. They turned around, hands up. A group of thugs approached them, holding guns.
One aimed his pistol at Sherlock, and cocked it. John stepped in front of his friend.
"John," Sherlock started to say, but John ignored him, presenting himself to the assassin.
The crack of a pistol, but no pain.
"John, it's a blank."