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"AAAAAAGH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"
Mariana bounds up the stairs of Baker Street, from A to B.
"Is everyone okay? No murderers with guns in the apartment?"
She runs her hand through her curls, eyes flickering between John and Sherlock. Sherlock is laying on the sofa, unphased by the noise, but raising an eyebrow at John. John, who has his hands up in the air, almost as if he's surrendering, is standing on a chair. His eyes are darting around the hardwood floors in terror.
"Mate- There was a creature. Little bugger was scuttling around the floor- And I know it isn't Graham, he's trapped over there."
His slightly trembling hand points towards Graham's cage, which was bought after John nearly suffered a heart attack after Graham started nibbling at his toes.
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"Why do I have to keep him in a cage? He hasn't done any harm." Sherlock pouts, using his index finger to gently stroke Graham.
"No harm? He just tried to eat my bloody toes off!"
"If you're putting Graham in a cage, then I'm putting Archie in a cage."
"What? Archie hasn't done anything, don't take it out on him."
"Yes... Done nothing apart from hump other dogs, hump Mariana's leg, hump my leg, hump your leg, hump the table leg, drool all over the floor... Need I continue?"
"Ugh- Look- We'll buy him a nice big cage, buy all the accessories 'n stuff- Or whatever the bloody hell mice need."
"Fine."
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Almost on cue, Graham's nose pokes out of his little hut, nose and whiskers twitching subtlely as he lets out small squeaks.
"So... AHA!"
John's loud exclamation makes Graham retreat back into the safety of his hut, undoubtedly going back to his nap, possibly dreaming about being in a house without a screaming 35 year old man. The new creature, who has crawled out from his hiding spot, is a tiny, golden blonde mouse. His large beady eyes stare right at John, then he turns to look at Sherlock. Sherlock sits up and cranes his neck over the sofa.
"Oh, that's Jonk. I wondered where he got off to." Sherlock states. He climbs over the back of the sofa and retrieves Jonk, placing him in his hand. Jonk squeaks happily.
"You named a mouse Jonk. You got another mouse, and named him Jonk." With the threat neutralised, John finally gets down from the chair, and sits in it instead.
Mariana chuckles, walking closer to Sherlock to get a closer look at the rodent.
"Aw he's so cute! I kinda see the resemblance, y'know John?"
"You are kidding me."
"No, seriously! He's small, blonde. His face even looks like that one face you do."
John makes the face she's referring to.
"What face? I don't make a face."
"You definitely do. You're doing it right now. It's like a mix between complete shock and disgust. And apparently, a mouse."
"You do make a face, Watson." Sherlock holds Jonk out against John's face so he can see them side by side. Sherlock and Mariana nod their heads in agreement to eachother.
John pouts and crosses his arms. "Right. Can we stop ganging up on me and get back to the mouse situation? Please tell me you didn't find him on the street."
"Of course not, I went to the shop and bought him. Went through all the appropriate procedures. Even took him to the vet to double check."
"Okay- Good. But why have you bought another mouse?"
"Mice find social isolation immensely stressful. They are incredibly sociable creatures, so it's harmful to keep just 1 mouse on their own. It is possible to have a single mouse with the sufficient amount of attention, however it is certainly a lot simpler to just obtain another."
"Right."
"Do you want to hold Jonk?.."
"Yeah- Sure."
...
"OW? HE BIT ME?!"
"He tends to do idiotic things around new people. When I held him for the first time he ran out of my hands and fell into the sink."
"Yet another thing you two in common."
"Oh shut your mouth Mariana," John says with a grin across his face, eyes narrowed at the small mammal in his hands.
He could get used to Jonk. If he stopped biting him.