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Sherlock tossed the loaded gun onto the seat and went past the time traveller and his TARDIS to pick up his violin, not looking at the hat. "I don't wear hats. Nice try though." He placed himself into playing position and began to play poorly at the man as though his angry words could more easily be played than spoken.

The detective sniffed and turned his back, trying very hard not to lose his temper. He began instead plucking the strings on the poor violin as though he were torturing it, childishly ignoring the man and TARDIS as he began to head towards the kitchen.

Sherlock scraped the violin in response and shut the door to his bedroom unnecessarily loud. A few moments later a more melodious tune could be heard, breathtakingly contemplative, hasty and moody.

A soft knock could be heard at the flat door and the landlady Mrs. Hudson sheepishly peeked her head inside with a little "hoo-hoo". Her eyes widened at the alarming state of the living room, her cheeks reddening. She tried to keep her cool however when she realised there was a stranger in the room. "Oh, didn't know there was a guest."

Mrs. Hudson giggled in embarrassment, allowing the hat to stay atop her head. "Dear, you've got me feeling terrible! I'm afraid I don't remember who you are-- and I was just about to ask you that. It sounds like Sherlock is in one of his moods. How dreadful. Oh, my goodness! A gun! Where people sit!" She scoffed angrily and tutted as she carefully lifted the thing, unloaded it and placed it in John's desk. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"Another doctor? Oh! Are you a friend of John's? I'm sorry but he's out-- visiting family. Actually, Sherlock's mood has been rather black ever since John left; it's not your fault. Hasn't had a good case in ages, the poor dear. Been tearing up my house for weeks he has!" Mrs. Hudson tutted again at the police box, frowning when she realised it was on top of some poorly discarded clothing. "Little more than a boy", she sighed softly, the comment meant more for herself as she looked back at the doctor with a bit of a rueful glance. "And the state of the place", she trailed off with a hint of embarrassment.

(I bid you adieu until next time!)

The violin answered in kind, a writhing wailing melodious infernal tune ricochetting back.

Mrs. Hudson wasn't sure what to make of the young man's claim of ownership of the new eyesore so she simply frowned in disapproval and moved on. Being the landlady of Sherlock Holmes, she knew to pick her battles.

She looked at the hat and sniggered for a moment before shaking her head. "Oh. I don't suggest it dear. He probably tried to be rid of that thing purposely." She began tidying up around the place as she chatted.

"Even when it's bitter cold out that boy won't wear a hat; worries me sometimes. Once he came back after disappearing off for three days in the February cold and collapsed of fever right in front of the stairs to his flat! Luckily John and I overhead him. His scarf was so frozen we couldn't get it off him at first!" A loud screech interrupted the growingly ravenous violin playing and Mrs. Hudson winced. "He overhead me. I think I'll go get you some tea. Are you hungry?"

The landlady wavered for a moment after placing papers on Sherlock's desk, shifting her weight as if very much so ready to go for the kitchen, yet having a second thought.

"I'm always telling the boys that, so I think they know. I just, I have a fondness for them is all. Do it out of the kindness of my heart. Besides, who else am I supposed to take care of now with my husband long gone? And who else is going to put some tea in you?" With that final very valid point, she ventured into the kitchen, making toast with jam and some scrumptious tea.