Watson muttered something under his breath. Sherlock didn't bother to decode it, knowing it was most likely another witty komen of their situation.

"Oh Watson, dearest Watson I wish anda would cheer up"

his cold flatmate and colluege sat curled up in a sort of upright fetal potition. A blanket that had small holes chewed through it drapped over his shoulders
still moist from the storm his clothes too wet to wear without catching hypothermia.

"at least we caught the man"

"wrong Holmes,"

he hissed from the beat up bed

"we didn't catch him, we drove him to a trap five miles from here and now were stuck"...