Sherlock Holmes reached for the doorknob of 221B Baker St. He still wasn't sure when he had agreed to this, but John had promised, and he could tell from the way that John scratched his head that he wasn't lying. He wondered what Catherine would be like. He'd tried to get access to the MI6 files, but had been emailed furiously by Mycroft multiple times and had red 'ACCESS DENIED' imprinted across his Retina screen. From how John had spoken about her, she was his little pet, and he was protective of her, even though they bickered a lot. John evidently didn't approve of her placements with MI6, and he stopped talking to her when she became aware of his opinions. She needs help, she calls John. He wondered what it'd be like to call Mycroft for help. Nah, he'd rather go to Moriarty, whoever he was. Neither of them seemed to speak to Harriet, perhaps she was like a family disappointment. There was another impatient rapping at the door. Sherlock Holmes sighed, and opened the door.

Outside the door stood a woman of average height. She had dark brown hair and grey eyes, and was wearing a coat that quite obviously was bought by Mycroft. He looked at her further. He could tell that she was stressed out, and that she'd had a phobia of flying which Mycroft had recently worsened. She looked up to John, but had little respect for Harry and her decisions regarding alcohol. He sighed and smiled in what he hoped was a warm way.

"Come in. John's still at Justine's, so I'll get Mrs Hudson to make you tea." He turned and yelled at the closed door of 221A. "MRS HUDSON!" Mrs Hudson came scuttling out of her flat, and glanced at the woman standing in the doorway.

"That'll be tea, won't it Sherlock." She said with a sigh, before turning to Catherine. "Just this once dear, I'm not your housekeeper." Catherine looked at Mrs Hudson, and asked

"Did Sherlock really aid your husband's conviction?" She asked and watched Mrs Hudson sigh.

"There are two of you? I hope you don't give my bloody wall another battering, young man, so you better watch out. Go watch the crime on the telly, surely that'll keep you occupied. And if it doesn't," Mrs Hudson hesitated "call that nice policeman. I'm sure he can find you a nice serial killer… But I'll go make your tea, shall I?" And with that, Mrs Hudson scuttled towards her kitchen, only to be stopped when Sherlock called after her

"Don't forget the biscuits!" She turned and gave him a look.

"Not your housekeeper!" She said to herself as she bumbled away.

Catherine looked up at Sherlock Holmes and made a mental note of what she saw in comparison to MI6's files. He really wasn't that different, aside from the fact that he was more arse-like in reality and he had little (to no) respect. She wanted to say something, but, deciding that he was allowing her to lodge at his house, she resorted to glaring at his back as he climbed the stairs to 221B. He wore a long black winter coat with the collar turned up, concealing a blue scarf. She wore her collar turned up too, although that was probably for very different reasons, ones which she had trained herself to make indeductable, hidden in the darkest part of her that not even John knew about. His hair was black, and curly, though his MI6 profile showed him with not much hair at all. Catherine decided to check with Mycroft about how regularly he updated the files. She winced as he turned and looked over her, taking in all they could from her hostile glare. He turned fully around, he was at the top of the stairs now, and gave her a glare that (if possible) was colder than her own.

"How did you know I don't play Ludwig?" he demanded of her. "How do you know I even play?" Catherine glared up at him; he was a good deal taller than her, which gave her the look of an angry otter.

"I have a name, Sherlock Holmes. And this name likes to be respected. Now, if you'll kindly show me the way to my room, I have assassins to attend to." She gave Sherlock a large, fake smile before murmuring to herself "and Moriarty to keep of my trail…" And with that, she smiled and made her way towards where her bags were waiting.

"and Moriarty to keep of my trail…" Sherlock Holmes switched into thinking mode when she said this. So Catherine Jane Watson knew Moriarty. Things were going to get interesting.

And Jim switched off his screen and laughed.

"It's showtime Carl…"