The next afternoon, John was extremely relieved to find Greg Lestrade in the morgue when he went to see Molly Hooper. He was hoping he wouldn't have to talk to them both separately, he already wanted to go home and had most of his day left. Since he was far too preoccupied with his worry over Sherlock, the morning had felt tedious. Why couldn't he have normal friends?

"Hey, Greg, Molly. You two want to come have a coffee with me?" The two had begun, politely, spouting off about the work they were in the middle of when John interrupted. "It's about Sherlock." They exchanged knowing looks, full of concern and dread.

"I'll go get my coat." Molly started to put her work away and disappeared.

"He's not…." Greg was choosing his words carefully.

"No. He's not doing drugs, but theres definitely something going on." The pathologist reappeared, as if on cue, announcing she was ready to go and made her way out, the men at her heels.

"So, John, whats going on?" She asked, once she finally had a coffee in hand.

"I stayed pretty late last night. Mrs. Hudson asked me to,said he's been making a ruckus in the middle of the night…so I stayed and…. uh…."

"What? John, is it serious?" The D.I. was searching his friends face.

"He's been talking to a mouse late at night." The other two paused, coffee at their lips and eyes wide.

"What? Like a pet mouse?" Molly spoke first and finally took a drink.

"Sort of… I'm not sure….He said its been coming round for tea." There was silence, they all stood frozen until Molly stepped forward again.

"Well… does it have a name?"

"A name? Thats your question? Does it have a name?" Greg had plenty of questions about Sherlock and this mouse and whether or not it had a name wasn't exactly on the top of his list.

"Well, does it?" She directed her question at John.

"He calls it Basil."

"What… what is he doing with this mouse?" Lestrade was surprised he finally found the words.

"He gives it tea and biscuits. They talk." John tried to buy himself time by taking a drink and clearing his throat. "Sherlocks been… he's been…uh…."

"Well, spit it out?" The other man insisted.

"He's teaching it things… he made me shake its little paw and tried to convince me it could count."

"Oh, so it is a pet. He's teaching it tricks." Molly chimed in.

"He lets the mouse play with the key board application on his mobile and insists he's thinking."

"You.. think he's impressing himself on this mouse…. like, he's relating to it… in an unhealthy way?" She offered.

"He insisted the mouse only liked being pet by him."

"Why is he playing with a mouse?" The detective inspector was definitely having a hard time focusing. He'd never really heard of Sherlock doing anything like this and was trying to decide how he felt about the matter.

"No idea. He called it flatmate and friend last night, kept correcting with experiment…" John sighed. "I'm not sure what to do… should we be worried?"

"I don't know. I really don't." Greg took a breath. "Did he buy the mouse?" The questioned seemed to throw John off balance and he had to think briefly.

"I don't think so."

"Really, guys, I know its Sherlock and I understand wanting to keep on eye on him, but I think its cute that he has a pet." Molly shook her head and took another drink.

"Maybe, uh,… maybe you two could over there and just… ya know… check it out." The doctor shrugged and glanced at his watch. "Last night the mouse showed up around 11:30, but Mrs. Hudson said she's heard, what I now assume to be Sherlock discuss us with a mouse, at all hours." He ended that statement with a rather annoyed and exhausted tone. Since he had come back, the past few days had done more to convince John that Sherlock was going to be the death of him then the years they'd been flatmates. Whether that was from a heart attack, seizure from unknowingly becoming an experiment, or a gunshot, he wasn't certain yet.

"Well, I mean, I suppose I could pop in. But, we can't go together and we can't mention the mouse first." Molly fussed with her braid, if John wasn't sure whether or not to be concerned, maybe she shouldn't blow it off so quickly. Obviously, he found his friends behavior very odd and that was nothing to dismiss, he knew Sherlock, arguably better than the two of them.

"Right, yeah. Not a bad idea. I mean, we don't want to overreact here." Greg shrugged."But, thats so weird. He just talks to it?"

"Mrs. Hudsons says she's heard him laughing, too."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Said one time it shook the walls."

"And he was talking to this mouse?"

"Basil." Molly interjected and when the two men gave her questioning stares, she raised her eyebrows. "Well, he does have a name, now, doesn't he?" They could really only acknowledge she was right and turn their attention back to each other.

"So… uh… which one of us should go first?" The detective deferred to the doctors expertise on this matter.

"I was thinking Molly."

"What, me? Why?" She managed to control her voices pitch, but not the panicked speed at which the words left her lips was another thing.

"Well, I dunno… you're a woman… he might respond differently to that?" He wanted to sound more decisive because he did think it was a valid reason, but it didn't sound as well thought out and intelligent as he had previously planned. Surprisingly, though, all she did was nod and her smile gave a bit of an understanding twinge as she accepted and informed them she'd stop by after her shift, it'd be late anyway. "Good, its decided. Molly will stop by tonight, report back, and in a few nights, we'll our send in our D.I. to investigate further." They all shared a nervous laugh before departing.

Naming a mouse and talking to it are definitely odd things for some people to be doing. And maybe a bit out of character for Sherlock Holmes. Although, he had seemed to like Toby well enough, even let him sit on his lap when he was 'thinking' on several occasions so Molly wasn't convinced it wasn't too far fetched for Sherlock to adopt a pet of his own, but she couldn't shake the fact that John was worried. It made her wonder what exactly John saw in Sherlocks behavior last night that made him so anxious and decide to seek out the help of Greg and herself. She put her concern to bed as soon as she stepped back into the morgue, though, she'd find out soon enough just how odd their resurrected consulting detective friend was behaving in good time.

Sorry its taking so long to get the next chapter up, been distracted by some personal things and other pieces. Its coming, though, I'm hoping to at least have one new chapter up this week, if not more. I am by no means done with this story at all.