John Watson rolled his eyes as he heard yet another smash coming from Sherlock's bedroom. He had never ventured past the (faintly-charred) door and had no ideas of the horrors which lurked within. But, he mused, given that it belonged to a man who kept eyeballs in the microwave and frequently attempted to create plastic explosives in the kitchen sink, chances are he probably had some nefarious experiments in there. Experiments which, to judge by the noise, were currently being knocked to the floor.
"Sherlock, we're going to be late." He called through the door.
"I know, I know!" Came the irritated response, coupled with a sound like a parrot being sat on.
"Mycroft specified 6:30. If we're to get to Holmes House in time we've got to leave in the next five minutes. Especially since taxis are always so scarce on Christmas eve." John said, re-reading the invitation he held in his hand.
"I know." There was a high pitched whizzing noise and a thud as something embedded itself i