Despite the precious items they were carrying, John steered Sherlock in the direction of Postman's Park, a little haven of green hidden from the rest of the city.
Once inside its gates he tapped his way along to an unoccupied seat and sat down.
"Why are we here?" Sherlock was looking around, concerned that they were wasting time but approving the fact that no one could approach without him seeing them.
"Trying to appear normal – if we rush around looking furtive we'll draw attention to ourselves." John pulled out his phone. "Also I want to make a quick call."
His call was to Keith, asking him to watch out for Lestrade, and to let him know if the older man didn't get out of Barrymore's headquarters within an hour or two. Pausing after the call, he quickly dialled another number.
"Kallie? Any joy?"
"No Doc, not so far."
"Okay thanks, keep trying." He turned his face towards Sherlock. "Is there no other way to contact your brother?"
"Short of putting an advertisement in the Times, no."
"Missing. One brother, answers to the name of Mycroft….." John began.
"Last seen hunting cake…." Sherlock finished for him.
John snorted. Sherlock spluttered. Suddenly they were doubled up with laughter, so much so that they didn't notice the interested stare of the lady passing by.