John Watson's mobile phone began to ring.

An odd time for it, John thought, whilst he rummaged through his desk drawer to find the device. Wouldn't be Mary; she knew John liked to work a bit late on Thursdays. And not Sherlock; he preferred to text. So, someone else then – probably – unless there was some emergency with the former or the latter. But more likely just a tele-marketing call, John expected, as he finally produced his phone, now in its third time through the ringer.

MIKE STAMFORD the screen said.

John fumbled with the screen lock, swiping his thumb hurriedly in the QRS complex pattern needed to unlock it. "God, Mike, hello!" John cried out, pressing the phone to his ear. "Sorry, it's been ages – haven't seen you since-"

"Uh, yes," A demure voice on the other end interrupted. "It has – I know."

"Sorry... who's this?" John's brow furrowed in confusion over the feminine timbre he was hearing. "Sorry, it's just – I've got this number in as Mike Stamford's, and-"

"Yeah, it still is, John..." The woman cleared her throat and, after a long pause, she continued, "But... It's, um, 'Mikayla' now... Mikayla Stamford."

John blinked, trying to understand what was happening. "...Mike...?"

"Yeah, well, I do still go by 'Mike', for short, actually." A nervous laugh escaped her. "But um, I was wondering – could we meet for a drink, to catch up?"

John Watson's mouth was still hanging open wordlessly.

"That is – if you're free..." Mikayla added, trying to bridge the silence.