Sherlock scoured the paper one more time. There really wasn't anything suitable; nothing that caught his fancy at all. They were all dull and boring and he'd had quite enough of that, thank you very much.
He thought back to his earlier discussion with Mrs Hudson. Maybe that upstairs flat would be suitable. Except... well, the rent was a little pricey, prime area and all that. Could he afford it on his own? With only his unpaid consulting detective work?
He'd given her a "maybe" but he really wasn't sure.
He could hardly advertise for a flatmate though. He snorted at that idea.
Who on earth would want a flatmate like him?!
Even his own brother couldn't stand him.
He pushed the paper away and let out a long sigh, turning again to the microscope in the lab.
Minutes later the door swung open and Mike entered with another man. A soldier - ex soldier, with a cane (psychosomatic limp. Ex-army care really isn't what it used to be)... doctor... invalided... ahhh, probably looking for somewhere to rent.
Interesting, Sherlock thought.
Conversation was casual, clearly someone Mike was familiar with so not someone thrust into Sherlock's life by his controlling and interfering brother this time. Not like that vacant idiot last week.
He let a brief smile pass across his face.
"How do you feel about the violin?"