Early morning in 221B. Silver-gold light streams gently through the windows. John Watson is not-so-gently roused from sleep by a loud knocking at the door.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" he yells, stumbling out of the bedroom, only half-wrapped in his dressing gown. Knock. Knock! "Okay!"
The door swings open and she walks in, already making herself at home. Dark hair swings down her back, large eyes analyse the room. The clothing says a tourist seeking sun, but the army doctor knows otherwise.
John splutters incoherently. "What...the hell..."
Irene Adler turns and smiles. "Good morning, Doctor Watson. Is the detective in?"