They'll probably be out of character but since it's in the movie verse (sort of) it's kind of ok. I've been in a slump so please forgive.

"Holmes, have you seen my ther shoe?" Watsono asked, walking in the sitting room holding one shoe in hand.

"Already, Watson? I thought we were going to leave at 7." Looking up from his book.

Watson clenched his eyes shut. "Oh, right. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to postpone that for another day. I'm meeting an old friend from college who just came into London." he said starting his search. "So have you seen my shoe?"

"I've seen it quite often." Holmes returned to his book.

"I mean do you know where it is now? I'm going to be late." Watson asked impatiently.

"You know I've been waiting to go out for quite some time. Why can't you postpone him?"

"I can't do that to him. He's a good friend."

"What am I? Chopped liver?"

"What? No! But I see you everyday. I haven't seen him in so many years."

Holmes snorted. "Well, is he ill and you shall be tending to him?"

"I should think not. If he is he mentioned nothing about it."

"Is he just visiting?"

"No. He's just moved here and intends to stay."

"As I intend to go to the Royale." Sherlock smiled victoriously.

"Not today Holmes. Now will you help me look for my shoe? Please?"

"You know I can't refuse you my dear Watson." Sherlock gave in.

Watson sighed in relief and returned to his diligent search of his missing shoe, rummaging through the mess that was the sitting room. After awhile of looking through a stack of old newpapers he realized he was the only body moving about. He looked up from the floor to Sherlock who had remained seated.

"Holmes, I thought you were going to help me look."

"I am."

"No, you're not. You're just sitting there watching me."

"That's where you're wrong. As you rummage through the room I am keeping a keen eye to see that you have not missed a spot or accidently overlooked your shoe."

"I meant for you to get up and help me look through what is your mess. I'm in a hurry!" Watson said growing irritated.

"Not true." Holmes responded, offended. " A couple of your books are lying right there and if I'm not mistaken you read that paper last. Oh, and you were drinking tea, not I. So it's not all of my mess." He said triumphantly.

"Don't start with me." Watson warned.

"Well why don't you wear your other shoes?"

"They're covered in mud thanks to you and I have yet to get them cleaned."

"Well no one told you to wear your good shoes to a graveyard after it had rained."

"You dragged me over there just as I was getting home. And you said we'd only be visiting an old widow and that was it. Not go gravedigging!"

"You know it leads to more. Tutt tutt. How long have we been on cases together. And you had plenty of time to get your shoes cleaned. You can't blame me for that. I got mine cleaned."

"Oh, what's the use." Watson sighed, giving in and dropping into the settee. "I'm already late. It's been...15 minutes and by the time I get there I should doubt he'd still be there." Watson sat with his head on his chest, defeated.

After a few minutes Sherlock finally spoke.

"Under the pillow."

"What?" Watson looked up to Sherlock half-heartedly.

"Under the pillow." He repeated, pointing to the pillow next to Watson with his eyes.

Watson reached over and lifted the throw pillow to reveal his shoe.

"I guess we're going to the Royale."

"Excellent!" Sherlock jumped up from his chair with zest, "I'll go get ready and you put on your shoes." and walked to his room.

Watson walked over to a desk and grabbed a blank sheet of paper and pen.

Sorry, Dinner next week. Mental patient needs me.