The door closed with a slam. John Watson jumped slightly, nearly knocking his laptop to the floor.
"Here," Sherlock said, dropping a damp bundle into John's lap. It seemed to consist of Sherlock's scarf and one very small, very wet kitten. "Take care of it."
"I'm sorry," John exclaimed. "What?"
"That is what you do, isn't it? Look after things?"
"Uh... sometimes, yes."
"Ah, well," the detective said, breezily dropping his coat over the back of a chair, "We can't all lead productive lives, eh, John?"
