"Well this looks delightful. Really spiffing, eh wot? Absolutely..."

"House, I'm serious now, if you don't stop speaking in that abysmal attempt at a British accent I'm going to ram that cane right up your –"

"Hey hey hey, there's no need to be obscene! There are ladies present."

"Like who?"

"Well my cane, obviously. She's called Daphne."

"...this has been waaaay too long a day".

The pair of doctors was wedged together in the back of a cab, suitcases piled high around them. Twenty straight hours of travelling had clearly taken their toll: bleak shadows of stubble lurked at their jaw lines, deep lines etched around their eyes that looked dark enough to have been drawn on with pen. Dr James Wilson was sat on the left, a bulging travel case perched perilously on his lap. There was an unmistakable weariness in his demeanour, the type which comes only with the soul-destroying monotony of long haul air travel; the type made indescribably worse by having to listen to the smart aleck comments of a certain maverick diagnostician for the entire journey. Dr Gregory House seemed himself in good form, apparently still relishing the opportunity to irritate his companion for no reason other than his own entertainment; he opened his mouth once again to speak, only switching back to his own American accent mid-sentence after an irate interjection from Wilson, accompanied by a swift jab to the arm.

"I say, are we – ow!"

"For the love of God, House, are you actually five years old? Enough with the stupid voice!"

"You didn't see me going around thumping Chase, and he really does have a stupid voice."

"I think that's a little different. It's not really his fault."

"Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, how much further is it?"

"I'm not sure..." Wilson leant forward, tapping on the glass to catch the cabbie's attention. "Um, excuse me, how much further to Baker Street?"

"Do I have to make inane conversation about the weather with them?"

"Well, I suppose not..."

"Do I have to acknowledge their presence?"

"It would be probably be polite."

"Do I have to pretend to be interested in pictures of their cats?"

"No, I don't think... hang on a minute, why would they show you pictures of their cats? They probably don't even own any cats –"

"It's what you people do, isn't it? Exchange photos, make mindless small-talk... it's all so tedious. I don't know why I agreed to this, John."

"Sherlock, it's two lodgers. Two completely independent, adult lodgers. And it's only for a fortnight. The way you're whining you'd think we were adopting a family..."

John Watson set the tray down on the table by the armchair; the man who was stood at the window did not stir, continuing to gaze out, a slight frown lacing his aloof features. John perched on the edge of the armchair and regarded his friend – a familiar mixture of exasperation and faint adulation clear on his face. He reached for the newspaper and began to read it; or at least, he made a pretence of reading it, for periodically his eyes would flicker upwards towards the figure silhouetted against the artificial glow of the street lamps outside.

"John, if you have something to say, please say it. There's no point in putting on this little facade for my benefit."

"But I –"

"You're sitting unnaturally still, you haven't turned the page in at least four minutes now, and it's obvious from the angle of your head that you aren't actually reading it." Sherlock spun around, taking a bounding step forward and fixed John with a sharp glare, the words tumbling from his mouth with distinctive frequency and intensity. John sighed and put down the newspaper.

"Well, I just think it's really a good thing that we're taking these lodgers –"

" – good if you think that the presence of two imbecilic Americans to get in the way is something to celebrate. American, why American? –" Sherlock muttered darkly;

" – and I think it would be nice if you could try and be a little less –"

" – intimidatingly brilliant?"

" – of a prick." Sherlock whipped back so he was again facing the window, his arrestingly blue eyes blazing, but a barely discernable smirk twitching at the corners of his lips.

"I'll just be myself, then."