Two weeks earlier:
John and Sherlock sat in their usual places with a cup of tea in their hands. It was a cool Autumn day and the leaves were beginning to turn a light shade of orange, birds were singing, traffic was busy, and the bustling of people heading to work was ongoing as it usually was until around 11 o'clock. Everything was back to normal in the busy metropolis that was London and especially in the upstairs flat at 221B Baker Street.
But Sherlock had a strange sense, a sense he had felt may times before, a sense that something was going to go wrong, that it was too peaceful and something bad had to happen soon.
There was a knock on the front door downstairs, Sherlock heard the footsteps of the timid Mrs Hudson travel towards the door and open it. "Oh Hello Greg how are you?" She said cheerfully.
"Not too bad. Yourself?" Lestrade Replied not as cheerful.
" Sherlock's just upstairs." Directed Mrs Hudson.
"Thanks." Said Greg back.
Sherlock heard Lestrade's footsteps this time, trudging up the stairs. When he finally reached the upstairs landing he leant over to knock on the mahogany door when Sherlock said "Come in."
Lestrade opened the door and walked in with a smile on his face. "I've got a belter if a case for you Sherlock." Said Greg nervously.
