[Sherlock's feels a wave of embarrassment wash over him as Bradbury's large hands slide along his backside. Perhaps he should have mentioned his mini flashlight first. His face scrunches when the fuzz of Bradbury's buzzcut brushes past his nose, almost provoking a sneeze from him.]

This isn't even an efficient way to tie two people together. What the hell are they getting at?

[It's a relief to feel the knife slip out of his pocket, unless he wanted to smell what Bradbury ate for lunch until someone came to free them.]

It's an army knife. If you can flip the blade out without stabbing me in the lumbar, that would be the best route.