"I have a contact in Nassau," he says. "Well, I say I do, but it's Mycroft's contact. Hasn't seen Mycroft since before he started his love affair with baked goods. I think I should be able to play the part well enough."

He pulls a few pieces of glass from his foot. They bleed rather spectacularly, though he imagines with some staunching they'll be fine. It's nothing in comparison to other injuries he's experienced, and not nearly as deep as the knife wound in Montenegro.

"I did promise you a warm escape."