Sherlock chose to answer that by striding over the bank of snow at the doorway with long legs, easily clearing the distance onto the path outside. There was a layer of ice beneath the snow, making it slippery to walk, but it only took a few steps for him to mentally calculate the optimal positioning of his foot and speed to reduce the likelihood of falling.

He glanced up and down the street, to the other silent houses with the faint flicker of candlelight behind the windows where no electricity ran at the moment, to the closed shutters of Speedy's cafe, and then back at John in the doorway to 221b.

"I have a good feeling about Soho tonight, what do you think?"

Not that he cared all too much what John thought about Soho, because he had already made up his mind that this was where they were going to go. God, he hoped they found a murderer out there.