Twelve minutes later, and a rather bedraggled looking Molly and a beaming Doctor stood outside the dark wooden door of 221B Baker Street. The rain was persistent in its constant downpour, and Molly watched as a waterfall of droplets cascaded swiftly down the glass pane of the window on the second floor. The Doctor grabbed Molly's attention by hastily removing the deerstalker from her head and returning it to his pocket. "On second thoughts, you might not want to wear that – you may give Sherlock the wrong impression." The Doctor rapped sharply on the door before grinning at Molly. "Excited?"
Molly gave him a nervous smile and nodded. "But what if he deduces about us?"
The Doctor opened his mouth as if to say something but promptly closed it as the door opened. A lady of around seventy four years of age beamed out at them. "Doctor! How lovely to see you again."
The Doctor stepped forward over the threshold and hugged the landlady briefly. "Mrs Hudson, it is always an honour to see you."
The old lady blushed slightly. "Oh, stop it, you! Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
The Doctor spun around and looked at Molly, who was still standing outside in the horrendous weather, uncertain as to whether or not she was invited in. "Ah, yes! Miss Hooper, a good friend. Molly, in fact. Molly Hooper. Molly, this is Mrs Hudson. Mrs Hudson, Molly."
Mrs Hudson enveloped Molly in a warm hug. "It's very nice to meet you, dear. Now, why don't you two go upstairs and say hello to the boys. Would you care for some tea?"
Molly nodded. "Tea would be perfect, thank you."
Molly and the Doctor walked upstairs into the living room of the flat, where there seemed to be some kind of argument going on.
"John, you and Mrs Hudson are not allowed to dispose of my experiments without my permission." Sherlock told his flatmate exasperatedly.
"I didn't know they were experiments!" John replied indignantly. "It was a collection in the ashtray of chemicals, matches, and bits of string. It was dangerous, Sherlock!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and reached for his violin. He lounged lazily on the sofa, plucking at a few strings before picking up the bow and sending a frenzy of notes to skim across the light, polished wood of the instrument. His dark blue dressing gown was draped off his shoulders, and his checked grey pyjama bottoms were rolled up to three-quarter length. John Watson huffed and pulled the bottom of his beige jumper down. Neither of the occupants of the flat had noticed the two new arrivals.
Molly sneezed and both Sherlock and John glanced at her in surprise. Sherlock looked at the Doctor, a grin spread across his face. "Doctor!" Sherlock rose to his feet, violin and bow in hands.
"Sherly!" The Doctor laughed.
John, meanwhile, was talking to Molly.
Sherlock watched the two of them talk with some interest, placing the violin and bow carefully against the bookcase. "Ah, everyone saying hello to each other. Wonderful."
The four sat down (Molly, John, and the Doctor on the settee, and Sherlock in the armchair) as Mrs Hudson entered the room with a tray of tea and biscuits.
The Doctor's face lit up like a child's at a funfair. "I don't suppose you have any of those jammie dodgers, do you?"