"John. Help me move it. You grab its arms and I'll grab its le- no you grab its legs and I'll grab its- YOU GRAB ITS EVERYTHING AND I'LL OPEN THE DOOR. JUST GET IT OUT OF HERE." Sherlock sputtered out, flailing his arms. "Jeez, Sherlock! She's a human, not an it! Er, Irene? Could you please leave? You're making Sherlock...erm....uncomfortable..." John edged his way closer to The Woman and tapped her on the shoulder.
BUT THEN The Woman did not respond to the touch. John raised a brow at this. "Um. Hello? Yeah. You. Gotta go. Now." The Woman remained still. John tapped her again with a little more force. What was thought to be the infamous Irene Adler rocked on its' own feet under the touch, and toppled over to the side. It was a mannequin. Sherlock stared wide-eyed at this. "Were you too bloody scared to deduce that, Sherlock?" erupted an impatient John.
Sherlock fidgeted in his seat and hugged his knees tighter to his chest, muttering something into his knees. "What was that?" John pressed, leaning in to eye the detective irritably. Sherlock lifted his head to glare at John, succeeding only to pout, and spat out (with not nearly as much anger as planned) "Not scared. Just...just overly-perturbed with the presence of this....thing as it was blocking my thinking process. Not. Scared."
"Blocking your--pffft." John turned his head to glare at the wall and scoffed. A false smile tugged at his mouth before facing Sherlock directly. "This coming from the world's only consulting arsehole, the self-entitled expert at ignoring people? I can't believe my eyes."