The day was uneventful. No cases, no assassins, just nothing. Sherlock, for once, was resting peacefully on his couch, his lips tight as his intellectual eyes scanned the black lettering. He was unnaturally quiet as he did so, and John casted him a questioning look now and then as he too read his book.
That was why when they received a loud knock on their door, they were rather surprised, and quick to answer the door. Not that they didn’t like the silence. It was just…unnatural to them, hence why they had both scrambled up to get the door. Seeing as John was closer, he was the first to open the door. Sherlock was right behind him, towering over the shorter man.
It wasn’t much of a surprise to see Lestrade standing there. The Inspector practically lived with them – though John was pretty sure it would be practically unbearable if he actually did live with them. Sherlock would probably kill him. Or maybe John would kill both of them with Sherlock’s constant jabs of sarcasm.
On the other hand, it was a surprise to see a strange man standing next to Lestrade in handcuffs. He was swinging his hands back and forth ever so slightly, looking down at the handcuffs intently. He looked up when Lestrade cleared his throat.
“I found something that belongs to you Sherlock.” Lestrade said, and the strange man smiled widely.
“Oh, Sherlock! Hello!” The Doctor said, raising his hands and wiggling his fingers at him in a greeting.
At the look Sherlock gave him, he let his hands fall back in his lap and his smile turned apologetic.
“Sorry…?”
