The black solid door creaked open. Behind it a man embedded in a cream woollen jumper and jeans rushed up the old wooden staircase to their flat, 221B Baker Street.
"Sherlock!" John Watson shouted before he'd got to the top of the stairs
"Sherlock!" He repeated whilst flinging the door open and bursting in.
What John Watson had walked in on was an astounding sight even for him. Sherlock was sat cross legged in the middle of the floor staring into a dog who was almost imitating him. His beady black eyes followed him as he stepped into the room.
"Wha, Sher." He sighed. "I don't even want to know."
Sherlock groaned at him.
"What is it this time, I'm in the middle of a case.
"He's back."
And with those two words Sherlock jumped to his feet ushered the dog out of the flat and grabbed his coat.
"Well what are you waiting for John? The game is afoot!"