[ john drums his fingers against the armrest of his chair. his expression becomes incredulous when sherlock starts looking at him like he's an idiot, but he patiently waits for the explanation. he opens his mouth, closes it again, before pushing a sigh through his nose. it does make sense. somehow. ]

Yeah, I know I'd want to make a quick getaway if I was at an illicit sex party and someone died under mysterious circumstances. [ in the back of his mind, he's wondering how this hasn't happened to them yet. thank god for the internet to nurture that little itch. ] So rather than stick around to answer questions, the guests leg it instead. Maybe they're famous? Family men? Criminals?