It was a peaceful day in London, other than the classic rain and the bang, bang, bang coming from 221b Baker Street. A scream was heard. Possibly from the next door neighbour (they recently moved in), Sherlock deduced, and also that they would move out within the next 3-7 days. He hoped for that as well. They were the annoying, friendly type of people, that always invited you for dinner. Scotland Yard had probably been called; thinking of the frantic, paranoid husband that wrongly claimed Sherlock as psychopath. He would have done that.
Mrs Hudson also heard the gunshots from upstairs. She rolled her eyes, 'He's bored, yet again,' she muttered to herself. She was going to give Sherlock his tea but the Moriarty case was getting to him. So, being the frail and wary old woman she was; she couldn't dare risk going upstairs, in case she accidently got shot. The sounds of sirens started ringing through the flat. Mrs Hudson began worrying, she gets so worked up over nothing . . .
* * *
Sargent Sally Donovan picked up the phone. Scotland Yard were rarely called in the small area of London that they were located in.
'Hello?' She said, exhausted from a long day. She thought that she might ask Anderson if he had plans with his wife. She wouldn't want to get caught between that old hag.
'H-hello?' a shaky voice echoed, 'Um . . . There is um . . . like, um . . . really loud bangs coming from next door, like . . . gonshut noises,' It was a male voice. That's all Sargent Donovan could work out.
'Don't you mean gunshot? And anyway, tell me where the address is and we'll be over there right away.' She hurried, this seemed like an urgent matter.
'221b B-Baker Street' And they hung up.
That's all Sally Donovan had to hear.
'Lestrade, another incident at Baker street!'