Sherlock Holmes was built for running: tall, long-legged, graceful. John Watson, however, was not quite as suited for these cross-city chases.
John puffed as he ran after Sherlock, only able to keep up with the detective due to his time in Afghanistan and the military.
The mess of black curls bounced in and out of veiw between heads in the mob of people as John tried so desperately to keep up with the Consulting Detective.
"Sherlock, slow down, please!" John sighed, his endurance was not endless "You figured out who the murderer was about one hour ago, tell me why we have to run NOW"
Sherlock couldn't hear John, he was too far ahead, his coat flapping madly behind him. He was completely focused on getting to the train station before it was too late, bombs waited for nobody.