A/N: Oh geez. It's been so long...oops, sorry etc. Life, you know? I had to reread everything to get a general idea of what I'd written previously. It's crap, but I might as well continue it. I'm obviously not British, so pardon any not-so-British-sounding dialogue. Also OOC-ness. Read and review, por favor!

"Just a mo'," Mrs. Hudson said, passing her guests and making her way to the steps. She walked down as quietly as she could and slipped into John and Sherlock's flat.

"Sherlock!" she bellowed. The consulting detective was typing something on John's laptop again, and the kitchen still resembled a slaughterhouse. He picked a bony hand up from the keyboard, still typing with the other, and flicked it in her general direction. Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat; the sound was surprisingly gruff for such a kind old woman. Sherlock's head whipped up, and with a scowl, he slammed the laptop shut. Under her sharp gaze, he recommenced his cleaning.

With a slight smile, she turned on her heel as quickly as her hip let her and returned to her flat. Her guests were staring awkwardly at the wall, or rather, John was. The other man, (the Doctor was it?), smiled up at her.

"Hello!" he said cheerfully. "Is he going to join us?"

"I'm afraid he's...preoccupied still," she said. Then, turning to John, "Oh you! You could be a little more polite. This man looks like a dear. He won't bite, will you, Doctor?"

"Oh no, I'm usually very behaved," the man smiled.

John shot a strange look at the Doctor and then smiled awkwardly. "Well, uh, Mrs. Hudson? Could we all have a cuppa?"

"That's a good idea, John," the landlady said. "I'll go put a kettle on."

As she busied herself in the kitchen, John turned to the guest. "So, where you from, mate?"

"I travel around a lot. A lotta lot."

"For business or pleasure?"

"A little of both, really. What about you? You look a little tan for London."

"I was an army doctor in Afghanistan," John explained.

"Ah, Afghanistan! Don't think I've ever been. Have I? No, don't think so. Pity, I really should. Sounds lovely."

"Er, right. Well, maybe ought to wait a bit."

"What year is it?" the man rolled his eyes up, a bit comically. He mumbled incoherently, counting on his fingers. "Oh really? Huh, suppose so. What year would you recommend?"

"Excuse me?" John asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Sorry? Oh, never mind me. I'm just a bit confused." He tapped his head for emphasis and flinched. "Remind me to not do that again."

"Is something wrong with your head? I am a Doctor, could take a look, you know."

"It should be alright. Have had a rough day, that's all. Ah, there's the lovely Mrs. Hudson. Tea, can't remember last time I had some of that. And to think I've been in England so many times without it!"

John said nothing, grabbed a cup of steaming tea, and took a large sip. The Doctor watched him carefully and followed suit.

"Blimey, that's hot!" he said, eyes wide in surprise. "I mean, there's steam and all, but really, I was not expecting that."

Mrs. Hudson chuckled nervously and returned John's bemused glance.

"I'm going to go check on Sherlock again," Mrs. Hudson said finally, after an awkward pause in which the Doctor fussed with his tea.

"I'll join you," John said quickly, pushing up from his chair.

"Now I remember why I haven't had you in so long," the Doctor whispered to his tea as they left. "You're disgusting."

He poured the remaining tea back into the teapot and skipped down the stairs after his departing hosts.