The car pulled up at a small apartment building attached to a dingy sandwich shop. John stepped out of the car.
"Here we are," announced Anthea. "221b Baker's street. I'll be taking my leave now," John nodded and closed the door, watching as the sleek black car drove away. He walked up to the door of the apartment. Neat brass numbers and letters were nailed onto it, saying 221b. So this was the place. He knocked on the door sharply, getting no response.
He knocked again, louder this time. "Go away!" yelled an angry voice. John knocked once more. He heard someone stomping down a flight of stairs and the door was slammed open, revealing a disgruntled man.
He was tall and lithe, with a mess of dark curls and opaque glasses. He stared at John, not quite making eye contact, and John flinched under his unrelenting gaze. "I don't want to buy a vacuum or set of encyclopedias and I'm not interested in converting to your religion. Now will you please fuck off and leave me alone!" he snapped.
"I'm not a door-to-door salesman. I'm here to help you. Your brother sent me," John explained. Sherlock scowled and slammed the door in John's face. John was startled.
"Well you can tell my brother that I don't need his pity," yelled Sherlock as he stormed upstairs. "I am perfectly capable of looking after myself," John could hear him clattering around in the apartment upstairs and a bout of loud cursing.
John desperately dialed Mycroft's number. Mycroft's voice came onto the line. "He's being annoying again, isn't he?" Mycroft said wearily.
"Yeah," said John.
Mycroft let out a long pained sigh. "Give him the phone. I'll talk to him,"
John rapped on the door one final time. Sherlock came back, fuming with rage, which didn't lessen when he was handed John's phone and heard Mycroft's voice on the other end of the line. He snatched the phone from John's hand.
"I'm not talking to you right now Mycroft… But I don't need help… That gas explosion was not my fault… Yes, I know that I was the one who left the Bunsen burner on but that gas leak was the thing that caused the explosion, and that isn't on me… Wait no! Don't call Mum. I'll let him in,"
He turned to John. "I guess you should come in then," he sighed. "I'm Sherlock Holmes,"
"John Watson,"