Possession
Mrs. Hudson’s voice got to him even through the walls of his room. He looked to Basil with irritation for a moment before begrudgingly giving into his landladies plee of coming out and rolling himself out of the bed they were both on. He pulled on a shirt and trousers, then made his way to the door in the living room just before Lestrade managed to work through it with his spare key. An excessive need of people shuffled through, Anderson in tow, and Mrs. Hudson right behind them all looking as flustered as she could knowing she hadn’t done the dusting before hand.
"Sherlock, they’ve come to check the-"
"The flat. I can tell," Sherlock interrupts her, and looks around the room at the people currently ransacking his things. "The question, however, is why?" He said, and walked over to someone who had picked up his violin to snatch it from their hands and put it back on it’s stand. "I’ve been clean. There’s no grounds to-"
"There’s enough grounds!" Greg assures him, and intercepts the police officer from Sherlock to let them carry on with their business. "You don’t answer my calls, disappear for days, refuse cases, then you pop up one day like you’ve been charged up an’ you expect me not to get suspicious?"
"Suspicious is one thing. Stupid is another and- Don’t touch my experiments!" He yells, turning on Anderson as he lifts up a glass container. "Don’t you people know how to do your job properly?"
"Well we do but you’re currently inhibiting-"
"No, you’re currently being idiots!" He shouts, getting up into Greg’s space. "I am NOT on drugs!"
The day had an easy quality to it, lying beside Sherlock in simple company. A number of days there had caused marks of his presence to gather about the flat, items that he'd gotten or had become his scattered in with Sherlock's things. He nodded in response to Sherlock's annoyance and stretched out, hoping for the interruption to leave quickly. But he heard the many pairs of feet enter and the raised voices that followed and he heaved a sigh. He got to his feet and shuffled to the door, despite being in nothing but pajama pants, rubbing his spiky hair. He came into view just at that last outburst and he bit his lip. Ah, a drug search. That proved no problem to Holmes. However… oh dear.
He cleared his throat to gather attention, which was really hardly needed as everyone had been a bit caught off guard by the emergence of a shirtless man from Sherlock's bedroom.
"I can attest to his innocence, my good fellows, there's certainly no need for all this fuss." He gestured confidently.
"And who the hell are you?" Lestrade demanded, looking fairly taken aback. (Quite possibly at the intense... britishness Basil exuded, putting the rest of them to slight shame, adding on to the already bizarre situation.)
"Oh, ehm… I'm Basil. Been a friend to Holmes for some time." He attempted to explain, clearing his throat. "I've been staying with him recently, so I can vouch for his claims."
"Oh, can you?" came a voice from elsewhere. "Want to explain this?" One of the officers held up a used syringe with a smug look.
"…...Ah." Basil replied with abrupt deflation, looking sheepishly at Sherlock.
