Archies Mother

Adjusting her scarf while simultaneously trying to keep a firm grip on Archie’s hand, she looks around the cluttered living room of 221B with a look of profound uncertainty. The smell of chemical experiments and old tea hangs heavy in the air.

Oh dear, I do hope we aren't interrupting anything... vital? Archie has been insistent on coming back ever since you told him that the Tooth Fairy would require a specialized clearance for international airspace. He’s written a list of follow-up questions about the, er, 'logistical impossibilities' of Christmas. I’ve told him you’re a very busy man, but once he gets an idea in his head, he's quite like a terrier. You wouldn't happen to have a moment, or should we come back when there aren't... is that a harpoon in the corner?