Little Sherlock Holmes's eyes widened and his mouth stretched into a wide open grin as he saw his friend coming towards him. Then, a frown took over his expression when he remembered where the both of them were.

"What are you doing?" the young boy hissed as he crouched closer to his companion. "You're not allowed to come here; Mummy and Daddy could see you!"

The other only grinned stupidly at him, yet Sherlock couldn't muster the usual stab of annoyance that appeared whenever he was confronted with human stupidity. His companion did have extenuating circumstances after all.

Little Sherlock Holmes stood up as imperiously as he could and motioned for his companion to follow.

"Come along, Redbeard. I'll sneak you in!"

Mummy Holmes had come back in high spirits from her tea time with Anastasia (and the other ladies as well). The young girl was such a delightful presence! After all, it wasn't often that her desire to meet new people was met, which led to her always being far more cheerful afterwards whenever that happened. However, the woman mused as she ambled towards her front door, she had to admit to missing her husband and children.

"I do hope our home has been well taken care of in my absence," she called out as she crossed the threshold with a skip in her step. Her joyous mood faltered slightly as she laid her eyes downwards: muddy paw prints were rather messily scattered across the lobby floor.

The Holmes Matriarch shook her head in fondness as she deftly avoided the mud on her path towards the kitchen. It seemed as though her wishes had been in vain, after all.

Leaving her tea to brew as she hummed under her breath, Mummy Holmes set towards the member of her house most liable to offer some clarification as to an animal's presence in it. Knocking on the wooden door, she waited a few seconds, before sighing and letting herself in without further ado.

As expected, her husband was engrossed in his work again. However, much to her surprise, no messy piles of paper were visible onto the desk's surface. In fact, if one ignored the haphazardly scattered writing utensils, the desk looked positively pristine!

Turning towards her children's father, she approached to get a hand on his shoulder as she remembered why she'd thought him engrossed in his work despite the absence of apparent paperwork. Eyes focused on the grandfather clock, head resting on a folded knee, and mouth moving incessantly: he had all the signs of being in his mental attic again. The contact on his shoulder didn't seem to inhibit his reflection, and even breaking his hypnotic bond with the grandfather clock garnered no reaction from Daddy Holmes.

Huffing at her failure, Mummy Holmes moved to stand back behind her husband.

"Well, it seems like you leave me no choice," she sighed with a rare touch of drama. "Alas, I shall resort to most dastardly measures in order to seize my beloved's attention!"

The smirk that was painted on her features and the hand daintily thrown over her eyes would have put the Holmes patriarch on guard, had he been looking at her, Mummy Holmes knew. Unfortunately for him, and very luckily for her, he was so engrossed in his mental attic that she didn't even register to his senses. Her smirk widened into a grin. Unless…

With nary a word of warning (although it would certainly have gone unheeded anyways), the Holmes Matriarch threw her body forward onto her husband's form draping her arms around his neck and nuzzling her cheek into his hair.

"Oh dear beloved, I have missed you so!" she exclaimed to the air even as his form tensed abruptly against hers, before splutters reached her ear.

"Cease disturbing my work with your feminine wiles this instant, woman!"

The bite his words probably meant to convey was completely smothered by the flustered indignation he exuded as he turned around. And the imperious air he was most probably aiming for utterly had the opposite effect due to his rather precarious position in his chair as well as the crazed look his untamed locks gave him.

Faced with such a compelling figure, Mummy Holmes had the only reasonable reaction to be had in such a situation: she laughed and swooped down for a hug again, stealing a kiss as she went. She grinned again at her husband's disgruntled face and decidedly pouting expression.

"I have made tea," she offered placatingly even as the grin remained on her face. Her husband's stare accurately portrayed his utter disdain at such an idea, yet she continued.

"It's almost ready, thus still likely to be warm if you come down promptly enough," she offered. Apparently though, the mad researcher on the chair still didn't seem enthused with the idea.

"Digestion slows the mind down," he reminded her as though she was a particularly slow child. It was indeed true that she was hanging onto the unreasonable hope that he'd forget about that particular theory. Thus, he'd had to repeat that same statement to her more times than she could remember.

Instead of rehashing the various arguments she'd already exposed to him in similar situations, Mummy Holmes played with the hand she was still grasping. "I will stay and talk your ear off until you follow me down; I know you are aware of that fact," she reminded him.

His expression as he carefully unfolded from his position brought another smile to the woman's face. He'd let go of his current disgruntled state when he saw the prints downstairs. And feeding him was well worth any trouble he could brew. After all, tea wouldn't be tea if it wasn't accompanied with crumpets, would it?

So, this is a bit shorter than I'd like. And it's actually the first of two parts, but I took such a long writing just this that I decided I shouldn't make you wait any longer. I'll try to get the next part out in two weeks, hopefully.

In which Mummy Holmes is unusually chipper, and Sherlock brings an illegal friend home...