"Ohhh..." Watson groaned as he slowly came awake. Someone was... bathing his face? Such dreadful breath... "Ge' off, Toby, 'm all right..." Why was he lying on the... floor...
"Holmes!" The doctor sat up in a rush, wincing as his throbbing head protested, but saw to his horror that there was no one in the sitting room now but himself and Toby, the basset hound still nosing at him in obvious concern. "Good boy," he murmured, scratching the whining animal behind the ears. "Don't take on, we'll find them." At least Mrs. Hudson was away, thank God, one less person's safety to worry about. "Just let me get my bag..."
Watson's voice trailed off as Toby immediately darted across the room, seized the Gladstone's handle in his jaws, and started dragging it back to Watson, tail proudly wagging. "Well, I'm blessed! When did you learn to do that, old fellow?"
"Last week, actually." The doctor started at the tiny voice that piped up from his own armchair, mouth falling open as he turned to look. God in heaven... Had he been struck on the head harder than he'd thought?
"Sorry to rush the introductions like this, Doctor," the mouse said, moustache quivering nervously. "But it can't be helped. I'm awfully afraid that both our colleagues are in a spot of bother..."