London Taxi

"Where are you headed, sir?"

"Oh, I need to borrow the taxi."

"Wha-borrow the taxi? Are you menta-"

Jim silenced him with a halfhearted pull of the trigger.

"Yes," he murmured, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, I am." He looked around to make sure he was alone and dragged the now dead driver around to the passenger seat. He wiped off the driver's seat before taking the wheel.

Jim put his sunglasses on and pulled his collar up around his face to hide it, grinning. Imagine the surprise on Sherlock's face. If he were anyone else, he would have giggled.

"Where are you headed, sir?" he said in a high-pitched voice.

"221B Baker Street," he answered himself, his voice comically lower.