Sherlock, with reflexes faster than that of a human's, caught the coat before it fell to the nasty Overworld ground. He put it back on, taking a little whiff. His senses far exceeded a normal mortals, that included his reflexes and his sense of smell.
He smelt a hint of gun grease, sandalwood aftershave, a cheap shampoo, the fatty, soapy smell of his cleaning products.

And underneath it all, just a tiny whiff of the man himself, musky and.. quite alluring.

John had walked out to the end of the alley by the time Sherlock had noticed. He ran after the man, hissing when he stepped into the sun. It didn't weaken him or anything stupid like that, but he wasn't a fan of it.

"You don't believe me." He said to John, his voice even and low.