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While it was not entirely uncommon for a visitor to 221b to suppose that a full scale war was in enthusiastic progress behind the door it was never usually this, frantic.
"JOHN! The kitchen!" Sherlock yelled, voice slightly muffled.
A string of what Greg presumed where curses floated through the wood followed by the sound of John Watson hurtling about the flat. What pushed Greg into stepping into the flat was the crying. It sounded like a distressed child and while John could be trusted with a child Sherlock was a much less certain proposition on that front.
"Not my fingers!" Sherlock wailed
"Never mind the кровавый fingers, he's in the অভিশাপ acid!" John barked back.
Greg took a moment to admire the language shift as he cracked open the door and slid in.
"DOOR!" Sherlock bellowed at him from the foot of the stairs "Shut the door!"
Greg flinched stepped back inadvertently jerking the door wide open. A pink and black clawed thing flashed past at chest hight followed by the grimly intent figure of John Watson. In the silence that followed Greg surveyed the disaster zone that was 221b, shattered glassware sparkled, acid was starting to eat through the kitchen table and the lino, the sofa was tipped on its back and Sherlock looked like he'd gone twelve round with a shredder.
There was a triumphant cry from the direction of 221a accompanied by more of that human sounding crying. Sherlock glared in the direction of the sound and then transferred that glare to Greg.
"Never again." he declared flatly with all the force of divine law.
Greg raised an eyebrow but before he could ask John came back upstairs, looking smug and just as shredded as Sherlock a struggling something in his arms.
"See told you this would hold him." John said, "Go get that basket and we can get this fiend back where he belongs."
Sherlock stomped off and Greg took a closer at John's burden.
"OK," Greg said a perplexed smile on his face "I give, what is it and why are you using that hat to hold it?"
A triangular pink, wrinkled face forced it's way out of the flaps of Sherlock's hat and stared at Greg.
John chuckled "This is a cat, in well the hat and he's caused about as much grief as his namesake."
Greg blinked and then started laughing, "Yeah I can see, unfortunately mate I don't think he comes with a machine to fix all this!"