John wobbled into 221B after some shopping. There were an overwhelming number of grocery bags he had to carry.
"Oh dear, would you like some help John?" Ms. Hudson asked him in her usual sweet tender voice, and hand held to her chest.
"No, no. I believe I have this. Thank you however for offering." She watched as John slowly walked up the stairs one step at a time. He mumbled to himself on the way up. Words like, 'unhelpful', 'inconsiderate', and 'stupid Sherlock'. When he reached the top of the stairs, the bag holding the oranges tore open, and they all went rolling down the stairs. Cursing, he ignored them, and would come back to clean it up later. At last he reached the flat door. He propped up some of the bags on his knee in order to retrieve the key in his pocket. After a few attempts, he finally was able to get the door open. He stumbled in and closed the door with his leg.
"Sherlock!" John shouted. He walked into the kitchen and plopped all the bags on the table. "Sherlock?" He said again, reaching for the items that needed to be put in the fridge. John shrugged. It wasn't unusual that he wasn't home. With the milk, he walked to the fridge. He opened it slowly, knowing something unpleasant probably resided in there. Sure enough, he was met with a severed hand propped up neatly in a plastic bag. Holding his breath and wrinkling his nose, John placed the milk as far away from it as possible, then slammed the door shut.
As he turned around to put the rest away, he could have sworn he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It ran across the floor and under the chair. Intrigued, and slightly concerned, he went to investigate. Slowly he walked out of the kitchen and into the sitting room to where the thing had gone. He tilted his head to the right to get a better look under the chair. In a blur, a creature ran out from the back of the chair and under the couch. John hated many things, and mice were one of them. As soon as he saw it he stumbled backwards, back into the kitchen, and ended on top of the counter. John quickly pulled his phone out to contact Sherlock.
Where are you?
John Watson
Why do my whereabouts concern you at this time?
SH
There is a mouse in the house. A big- no, a huge one.
John Watson
Incredible rhyming skills. And technically, it is a flat. Not a house.
SH
Sherlock, stop being a half-witted twat and get over here and kill it.
John Watson
You have killed people John. I'm more than confident you can kill a mouse.
SH
Don't recall to me what I did in Afghanistan, I know what I did. This is no mouse. It's been genetically transformed into… What have you let lose into the flat Sherlock?!
John Watson
Ah, I see you have found him.
SH
What is 'Him', Sherlock?
John Watson
An experiment of mine.
SH
What the hell is it Sherlock?! What is running through this place?!
John Watson.
Get off the counter and find out.
SH
No! And how do you know I'm on the bloody counter?
John Watson
"Because I'm right here." came a voice from down the hall. Quite angry, and with his face flushed red, John yelled at him.
"You are an inconsiderate fool! A pompous jerk, low life, scum bucket, son of a-"
"Shh, they can here you John." Sherlock stepped out around the corner holding something. Sherlock looked amused to see John making a complete dunce of himself.
"Who can hear me?" John asked in a raging whisper, still refusing to step down from the counter. In his mind, he would be in great danger if he were to step down to the floor.
Sherlock held the object out in front of him. John stared in disbelief and confusion.
"An otter. Really Sherlock? What for?"
"Yes John. An otter. And it's as I told you before. It's for an experiment." Sherlock pulled the otter back to his chest and held it like a baby. The otter moved only slightly in protest, but gave up.
"Then what was that thing running around on the floor?" John motioned with his finger a figure 8 then pointed to the couch. "Now it's under there, whatever it is. And I am not coming down, until I know it's dead, or I know what it is." Sherlock chuckled and walked to the couch. He kneeled down, with one hand holding the otter to his chest, the other hand reached under the couch. John watched, worried that the thing lurking under there would bite him. But Sherlock gave a triumphant 'Aha' and pulled out the creature.
It was small, not huge at all. A light brown color with small looking spines coming out of its back. Sherlock walked over to John (still sitting on the counter) and held it out to him.
"Here's your mouse." John looked at it. It was not a mouse, but a small hedgehog. Being more relaxed, John finally slid off the counter top and on to the floor. Sherlock placed it in John's hands and smiled.
"A hedgehog?" John asked still perplexed, but petting the less frightening creature.
"Yes."
"What is the experiment?"
"Lately many of the people who observe our website have been comparing us to these two animals. You to the hedgehog, and I to the otter. I have gotten a hold of these two things by means of ways I shall not speak and have decided to monitor their behavior to see if they are indeed in any way, like you or I. I have named the otter after me. Sherlock. And the hedgehog, after you. John. All required for the experiment of course. Oh, and I shall need to borrow a pair of your red trousers." Sherlock ended, waiting expectantly for an answer from John. John just stared at him.
"You are mad. How do you think we could be like an animal?"
"It's for an experiment John, now please! May I have the red underwear?" Sherlock said in a slightly heated tone. John looked at him a moment longer.
"Yeah. Sure, go for it." Sherlock grabbed John away from John and went to his room and shut the door behind him. John, still being quite perplexed, went to pick up the oranges that were still at the bottom of the stairs.