This prompts should features all of the companions to the geniuses of the series, and how they can actually get along when their brighter halves aren't there.
I wrote something that leads into what I would like, there's, it’s just an example.
Each of them causes their own trouble, and they all enjoy it.
They cover each other in an unspoken agreement.
They have no desire to harm each other, since their geniuses are not there.
When they cause trouble, they cause big trouble, yet somehow its not big enough to draw attention.
Hopefully there's a lot of action, running, stabbing with stilettoes.
Anthea can run perfectly in stilettoes.
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It was one of those nights. The kind of nights where the entire world seemed to have agreed upon a universal peace. A truce, where drug dealers took a break, murderers revisited past murders with pride, and geniuses sorted out their affairs.
But for the companions to these geniuses, tonight was their night.
John Watson was wearing a pair of pants he was comfortable ruining, a jumper that made him look harmless, and a pair of shoes that he could easily run in. He took his browning, as well as his cane, wishing to look harmless to the untrained eye.
John had taken Sherlock into account, and since tonight was a nights where the man had decided to actually sleep for once, he’d felt secure. He didn’t need the consulting detective to follow him tonight.

Sebastian Moran took special care in looking particularly dangerous, wearing combat boots, camouflage pants, and a form fitting black top that showed off every ripple of his muscles. He had a gun hidden on him, along with many other weapons that he was sure to use that night. He looked like a man you wouldn’t mess with.
Jim had been sulking the entire day, seeing as he had to sort out affairs that had gone awry. He’d hidden himself from everyone, even Sebastian, and hadn’t been seen since. It was good, since Sebastian didn’t need the consulting criminal to know what he was doing.

Kate, had dressed herself as alluringly as she possibly could, while still being ready to run and fight. She had on tight black pants, a form fitting maroon tank top, and knee high boots. She looked like the very definition of sex.
Irene, had no clients scheduled, seeing as her monthly cycle had left her crabby and in no mood for blackmail. She’d yelled at Kate, and insisted that she go out that evening. Kate had obliged in this request, finding it more than convenient that “The Woman” stay home while she went out to play.

Anthea still looked as frigid as ever, dressed modestly. She wore actual pants instead of a skirt, and her hair was down bangs pinned back. She wore more makeup than she normally did, and her stiletto’s looked deadly. She still had her trademark blackberry glued to her face, but that was to be expected.
Mycroft had been keeping more secrets, humming to himself and doing more legwork than he normally did. He was in an excellent mood, and told Anthea that her services were unneeded today. A smile had graced the ice queen’s face, and she looked up from her blackberry to thank Mycroft. Anthea was pleased, pleased her plans weren’t inconvenient for the British government.

All four of them were headed to a pub downtown, to a private booth in the corner.
They all had arrived at different times, Sebastian being the first, secretive as ever about his transportation
Anthea was second, chauffeured in a shiny black car, forever glued to her blackberry. Not even faltering in her stilettoes, the height of which caused models to break their legs.
John had arrived third, limping like an invalid. While Kate arrived seconds later, waltzing in and striding over to the booth gracefully.
The four of them together were quite a sight. An unlikely combination of people, all very different, yet getting along perfectly.
John was the first to speak.
“So, what’s the plan for tonight?”