"Oh, not likely here, but the police will get these fellows out of our way," Sherlock said, with a surprisingly little amusement, as his eyes had narrowed on the trails made in the dust past the now prone figures beyond them.
Following the pathway, he walked down to the living quarters, even as the police sirens closed in around the house.
The beauty of the Agency meant near complete freedom in these situations. Sherlock just hoped to God that idiot Anderson didn't show up.