After a good night's sleep, Sherlock was feeling fantastic. He wasn't quite ready to head back to London. He still had to do a bit of an investigation, as that was the purpose of his visit. But first he wanted to call John... of course.
Sherlock was invited by Doctor Strange to live in the Sanctum for the time he would be in New York. So Sherlock accepted and got a nice room with a view and a telephone. He picked it up, dialed the house phone, and after a few rings John picked up.
"John?" Sherlock asked.
"SHERLOCK!" John screamed through the phone. "When you get back, I'm going to murder you! Do you hear me William Sherlock Scott Holmes? Rosie and I are both very disappointed in you."
"Well that's very nice of you to be concerned for me." Sherlock smiled. "And give Rosie a kiss for me. I shouldn't be much longer. Perhaps a day or two?"
"Two? TWO? Sherlock, you were only supposed to be there for half a day and now you're telling me that you might be there for more than an entire weekend? Rosie's birthday-"
"I know John. I know. I wouldn't miss it for the most horrific serial murders in the world! I just need a bit more time. That's all. Now I lov- I will see you then."
"You better not miss it. Or I'll have to kill you twice! And I'll see tonight."
"Yes, very well. Have it your way." Sherlock grinned.
There was something about John that always makes Sherlock feel more human, more... warm inside. Sherlock then turned around to find Strange standing at the doorway smirking at him.
"So is that your husband or something? He runs an awfully tight ship," Strange laughed.
Sherlock's eyes began darting around the room as he thought of a response. With his cheeks red with embarrassment and his arms crossed, he began to reply,"No- No not my husband. But I'm helping him raise his daughter. So it would seem that way."
"As the kids would say, 'it's 2017' there's nothing to be ashamed of,"
"I s-"
Strange chuckled, "It's alright, Sherlock." Then Strange became serious all of a sudden. "Perhaps we should discuss something more pertinent."
A chill ran down Sherlock's back. And he was now in the same living area as before. The same brown leather chair. It seemed like days ago.
"BLOODY HELL! YOU HAVE GOT TO STOP DOING THAT." Sherlock shouted.
"The Wand of Watoomb. It chose you, Sherlock."