[John draws in a sharp breath through his teeth, fuming that Sherlock's right. As much as John wants to just charge ahead and launch himself at whatever Sherlock's facing down, it's just not practical. It's just not practical.

He shuts his eyes and grinds his teeth.]

Shit! They're closed! But the second anything goes wrong, I'm charging at it and trying to get you out of there, short legs be damned.