Bring, Bring! The Bakelite jet black, vintage telephone jiggled on its' cradle.
"John!" Sherlock called, eyes fixed on his newspaper. John wandered out from his bedroom where he had been working on the next entry of his webpage. He looked at Sherlock lounging in the crimson crushed velvet armchair to the telephone less than a foot from him and frowned, tilting his head to the side.
"Seriously," John stated more than asked.
Silence
"Sherlock…"
"John," Sherlock cut in abruptly and held out his hand, "quick, before they hang up."
John shook his head in exasperation, picked up the receiver and handed it to Sherlock. Sherlock's fingers clasped around John's and he looked up to meet John's startled eyes looking at him before gripping the phones glossy handle further down. John let go.
"Sherlock Holmes," he said, looking to John before taking to the phone to his room.