“No, stop moving.”
“Whoever this is, stop shoving!”
“Get off my foot!”
“Not unless you take your elbow out of my ribs.”
“I can’t. Because someone handcuffed me.”
“You were tampering with the evidence.”
“That’s my job!”
“Tampering with evidence is your job?”
“Hang on, are those my cuffs? I have a key!”
“Sorry. Whose bum is that?”
“Oy! You lot! Can we act like adults and get out of here?”
Everybody shut up and stopped moving. Lestrade found his keys and unlocked Anderson’s handcuffs, who in turn pulled his elbows to his sides. Sherlock decided not to get off Anderson’s foot for a while longer. John felt like a babysitter.
It took them more than twenty minutes to get out of the cupboard and when they finally managed to open the door, Sherlock probably wasn’t the only one thinking about handcuffing Anderson again. He certainly wasn’t the only one wishing for a gag.
“I never want to be locked in a dark cupboard with the three of you ever again.”
“Rest assured that the feeling is mutual.”
John and Lestrade shared a weary look as Sherlock and Anderson immediately started bickering again. Then Lestrade grinned and patted John on the shoulder.
“Come on, mate. There’s a pub over there. Let’s have a beer!”