[John chuckles and, likewise, sticks close to Sherlock. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving behind that post-rush euphoria that sometimes gets him close to fits of giggles.]

Hopefully this isn't enough to turn you into a one-man vendetta against nature, because no ecosystem in Britain is safe if so.

[It then occurs to him that he really ought to try to chastise Sherlock for this insane adventure, so he tries to be a bit more serious. It doesn't work very well.]

And just so you know this whole mad evening was a bloody idiotic idea. You've got a scratch I'm going to need to keep an eye on, I'm covered in rat blood, and somewhere out there there's a flaming rodent with a pair of scissors stuck in it.

They were really good scissors, too.