come on in and close the door

[drpsychosomatic]

WHO: Team Sherlock and friends
WHERE: 221b-that-isn't really
WHEN: After Lestrade's reappearance.
WARNINGS: None... so far...
SUMMARY: Team Sherlock has a reunion! After that, it's an open log at their flat for friends and visitors~
FORMAT: Para to start, whatever goes after that :)

Greg was back. It hadn't quite sunk in yet, but it was the truth, and John would be damned if all the welcome he got was Sherlock in the invariably foul mood he'd been stuck in for weeks, all his things boxed up and nothing in the fridge. Quickly negotiating an early leave from work at the clinic, he dropped by the shops to pick up groceries and a few things he suspected Greg might appreciate (A bottle of scotch, most prominently) and hurried on to the flat, lugging two loaded shopping bags up the stairs once he arrived.

"Sherlock?" he called out as he pushed the door into the living room open, a little breathless from his haste. "I'm home. Bit early. Got you that bleach you asked for, and the two different foil wraps..."

Comments

Reunion time baby~

[alldeduction]

Sherlock was, at least, dressed, which was more than many days, and he pulled himself off the couch and stepped over the coffee table as soon as he heard the door open. He stopped when he saw John on the steps, instead of Lestrade.

"Ah. Yes. Good." He reached out and took them without any ceremony, making his way immediately back to the kitchen. "Lestrade should be here. He's late."

[drpsychosomatic]

"He said he was stopping off for some beers," John supplied helpfully, carrying the rest of the shopping through without too much of a visible complaint that Sherlock hadn't bothered to help with it. He began to put the contents away.

"I got some food in, but it might be an idea to order chinese or something. No-one here's much of a chef, and I doubt we want to go out either, so..."

[bestprofessional]

This whole situation was. Strange. Even for the City. Greg still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the fact that so much time had passed. Everything looked the same. The flat looked as he'd remember when he'd come home from work earlier that d- earlier two months ago.

He didn't bother knocking. Greg was looking forward to being home with Sherlock, John and Molly. To, for lack of a better word, normality.

"John? Sherlock? Anyone in?"

[alldeduction]

"Yes, fine, order Chinese then, it isn't impor--" He stopped abruptly as Lestrade called up from below, and he turned on his heel and stalked back to the stairs without so much as a by-your-leave.

He looked down the stairs with a stony expression as Lestrade mounted them. "Of course we're in," he snapped, the roughness entirely feigned. It was a relief, to see Lestrade, though he would never willingly admit it. "You're late," he said, for the third time. "John is obsessing about what sort of food to shove down your throat."

[ecphrasis]

Molly had left work as soon as she could once she'd found out Lestrade was back. She's panting by the time she reaches the flat, and sees his back as he heads up the stairs. "Greg!" She's grinning from ear to ear, stopping at the bottom of the flight to try to catch her breath. "Greg, hey! Welcome back!"

early evening of the 12th

[danceswithwater]

[She'd wandered for a time after her- most recently, she had to wonder at, not simply only- meeting with the resident Lannister in the city. But that wasn't much of a distraction. She wandered everyday. So, rather than waiting until later in the evening, Arya decided to pay her second house call of the day now rather than later.

Expecting she was expected, she didn't waste time trying to navigate the inside of the building or locate the right door. The image of the building still fresh in her mind from the map she'd been shown, she climbed up the metal stairs outside the structure and slipped in the first open window. A momentary pause on the ledge and then, quiet as a shadow, she slid across the bedroom floor to the door, wondering just how far she could get before being 'detected.']

[ecphrasis]

[Molly was ecstatic that Greg hard returned. Until he'd come back, she hadn't realized how much she had missed him, his presence. It might not have seemed it, but the flat was in the midst of celebration when Molly had decided to go up and change out of her work clothes.

It was probably lucky for Arya that she had gone into Molly's room instead of, say, John's.

The brunette was still grinning widely as she opened the door to her bedroom, going to flick on the light. But the silhouette of someone stopped her dead, hand still extended towards the switch. The figure's hand was stretched out, too. For what, Molly couldn't comprehend before a loud scream tumbled from her mouth.]

[danceswithwater]

[Damn. Arya's face twisted in anger as the woman started screaming. She'd forgotten. She'd gotten stupid and forgotten the bloody right window and broken into the wrong 'apartment' and now this woman was giving her a headache. It had to be the wrong one. Because she'd known men who chased women and she'd spoken with the detective and would have wagered most anything he wasn't the type to keep some shrieking woman as a bed mate.

Stupid.

It was with those thoughts that she darted back away from the door. Maybe she could get out before the woman could even get that good a look at her face.]

[alldeduction]

[It only took a moment for Sherlock to reach Molly - having already figured out the most likely reason for the scream.]

That's more than enough, Molly. [He said loudly but relatively calmly as he came up behind her.] I rather suspect-- [He pushed past, and caught a glimpse of the girl before she made it to the window.]

Ah, yes. Nymeria. Good. Excuse her idiocy -- [A thumb in Molly's direction] -- I didn't warn them.

uh whenever ... midafternoon/early evening sometime?

[incywincyhero]

[Between the overloaded backpack, the stack of forensics science texts of a forbidding countenance, and the neatly folded brown paper bag that jingles faintly as it slides around on top of the books, it's a wonder Peter can get a hand free to knock, but somehow he manages. The spider-enhanced sense of balance probably helps.]

Hey, anyone home? It's Peter -- I have Sherlock's books.

[bestprofessional]

Be right there!

[Lestrade's closest to the front door and it's only a matter of moments before he's there.] Hello?

Oh chr- [Wait. Don't swear in front of strangers.] wow. That's a few books you've got there. You want a hand?

[incywincyhero]

[He blinks.] Oh, uh, hey. You're -- Greg Lestrade, right? You were on the network the other day. Peter Parker, but I think you heard the first part already. [He gives his burden a little bounce to settle it more firmly in the crook of his arm, and leans forward with the other to shake Greg's hand. Though the paper bag makes a desperate bid for freedom, it miraculously loses momentum just on the brink of tumbling off the topmost book.]

Nah, I'm good. If you can get the door?

[bestprofessional]

That's the one. [Greg shakes his hand in return, trying to be welcoming rather than stare at the gravity-defying paper bag.]

Uh- yeah, sure. Come on in to the lounge. Sherlock'll be around somewhere.

late on the 12th?? after lestrade is nice enough to tattle for him

[heavyhanded]

[ This looks like the place, according to the numbers. And he'd even found it without Tali's help. (Alright, fine, the cab driver had done most of the navigating. It still counts.) Dressed in that white scaled armor and cloak he's so fond of from home, and with a sword buckled neatly at his right hip, he knocks sharply at the door with his golden hand and stands back to wait. ]

[alldeduction]

[The curtain on the second floor window pulled back slightly, and Sherlock glanced out at the street before scowling. God. How had he gotten here?.

It was a mere minute and a half before he was downstairs at the door and opening it.]

Mm, I'm afraid my office hours are done for the day. You'll have to come back later.

[He was ever so smug as he spoke, smiling, even if he couldn't help the glowing white notes that floated around Jaime, taking stock of everything. They quickly winked out of existence.]

[heavyhanded]

[ Those white glowy things are... weird, but he doesn't let them distract him. He pulls on his very best sardonic smile, moving just close enough that Sherlock won't be able to close the door without a heavy boot thrusting into the way. ]

You're Sherlock, I take it.

[alldeduction]

[Oh but that smile is reflected right back.]

You can take it as you like. You are Jaime Lannister.

Either far too early or far too late to be respectible

[daft_old_man]

[At some point when things seem to have settled there's a whirring noise coming from next door. It seems only seconds pass by before there is the sound of someone being far too loud outside the flat before someone runs into their door. The knob rattles around and then a buzzing can be heard.]

John! Sherlock!? Why is your door locked when you're home?

[The Doctor enters the flat with a frown, still rubbing his forehead.]

I have gifts! Is your lady around? I brought her something too!

[alldeduction]

[Luckily Sherlock keeps the strangest hours anyway, when he's working, and at the voice he pushes his goggles up onto his forehead and scowls. He rises, leaving his chemistry set behind him and walking to the stairs as the Doctor is walking up them.]

They're asleep. [Though likely not anymore.] And we've had unwelcome visitors so Lestrade demanded we lock the door. [Which Sherlock considered idiotic, of course, and here was proof.]

[daft_old_man]

Asleep!? Bah, who can sleep when there are gifts to be given?

[One arm carried a Harrods bag filled with anything but expensive gifts. They are, however, cool gifts and that is what's important.

He barely gives a look at whatever is on the dinning table before shoving things over and depositing his bag.]

I hope you like rocks. Well, crystal really, but still a rock. Humans won't find this for a few more centuries yet if this dimension follows normal technological evolution.

[Which, given the citizenry, it was not.

Reaching into the bottom of the bag the Doctor pulled out a black crystalline object]

From the southern pole of the moon. [He frowns a bit at the palm sized object] That's as far as the TARDIS would let me take her.

[bestprofessional]

[There is a thump from somewhere else in the house and then the sound of a door slamming. Then, Greg comes running into the lounge from his room, dressed in pyjamas without a dressing gown or slippers or anything because there are much more important things going on right now.]

Did you hear it? I heard it! It sounded like it was right outside, if we hurry we might catch it! I can't believe there's a TARDIS right outside- come on! [and oh Sherlock you've got a visitor.

Lestrade comes to a stop. And coughs. No, he isn't a grown man acting like a schoolboy. You're imagining things. Um.] Ah, sorry- didn't realise you had someone over.

like sunday afternoon

[culver]

Nill wasn't sure whether or not Sherlock would be home, but she figured that she was long overdue for a visit and there was no harm in trying. So, with a basket full of muffins over her arm, she headed across town to see him. It didn't take her long to find his flat, and she knocked lightly at the door once she got there, wings flitting behind her back.

[alldeduction]

The door opened around two minutes later with Sherlock Holmes standing behind it, still in his dressing gown, hair mussed. For a split second it was as if he was surprised to see her, and then, just as quickly, the expression disappeared, and he moved back into the entrance. Between them, in the air, hung the words:

Ah, Nill. Come in.

[culver]

Luckily, Nill was a patient young woman. She didn't even consider leaving during the minutes it took someone to answer the door. And when Sherlock is there, the smile on her face is bright and genuine. She nods at the note, following its instructions as she lets the basket slide a little bit down her arm. She carefully toes off her shoes just inside the threshold, and waits for Sherlock to tell her where to go next.

[alldeduction]

He closed the door behind her and motioned with a hand to follow him upstairs to the livingroom.

Once a little better situated, he gestured to the couch, which another set of white notes appeared to hover between them.

Did something happen?