Suddenly there was a movement in the dark air next to Sherlock's shoulder. Captain John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers stepped into the room. The lumpy knitted sweater did not succeed in covering the Browning stuck down his waistband.

"Oi! 'ow is dis den?" The thug cried in surprise and took a step back.
John smiled. The smile did not really reach his eyes.
"I'm the little missus", he said and knocked the other man out cold with the butt of his revolver.

"You took your time", Sherlock remarked as John put away the gun and started to untie his husband.
"Ham called from school. He needs to bring cookies tomorrow. Your wrists alright?"
"Yes, yes, stop fussing! If he's going to bake then we need to buy sultanas on our way home."
The last bit was added as the detective used the criminal's own ropes to tie him up.
"We probably need butter as well. Can I kill this useless piece of lard?"
John chuckled.
"No, love."
"Have you texted Dimmock?"
"Yes, he's on his way."
"What I fail to grasp", Sherlock said as he straightened up, put his arm around John and prodded the still unconscious body with his toe, "Is why the criminal classes still haven't understood that they should never EVER mess with my blogger!"