Oneword: Stunt

Sherlock was in rare form tonight, leaping from car to fire escape to roof, trailing along a thick stream of breath in the air behind him. John clung to it as he desperately tried to keep up with the would-be parkour artist who was gaining ground ahead of him. Their culprit tonight didn't stand a chance if the adrenaline-driven detective kept this up. "Sherlock!" John panted as he sprinted across a rooftop, taking advantage of the flat surface to try to keep up, "Leg or no leg, I was NEVER this good! Wait up!"

Sherlock turned just a fraction as he leapt down to the balcony below. "Just do your best," he called back, "I've got this un-" his reassurance was cut off as the hurdle grip he had on the railing slipped on an invisible patch of ice, and his stunt went terribly wrong. John could only watch in horror as his momentum carried him what must have been ten, fifteen metres, to land roughly on the roof of a car below. His practice allowed him to roll into the fall, displacing some of the kinetic energy, but it was obvious he'd still taken quite an impact.

John struggled not to cry out for help as he made his way down the fire escape on the far end of the balcony, knowing it would be even worse news to alert the vicious criminal they'd been trailing that Sherlock was vulnerable. The doctor pulled out his phone and dialed an ambulance as he ran back toward Sherlock's writhing form, the heartbeat pounding in his ears making it hard to hear the operator on the other end of the line. At least it hadn't been a fall like... THAT fall. Sherlock was clearly still alive, and the strained breathing through gritted teeth clued John in that the fallen detective was struggling not to howl in pain. John steeled his nerves and prepared for the worst.