John needs a drink. In fact, he needs several of them. He's never been fond of dealing with paperwork. Paperwork where he's lying through his teeth about passports and work Visas is particularly irritating, though. He's not Sherlock. He doesn't slip out of one skin and into another with the ease of a snake. Still, it's nonsense that's got to be done. The stack of forms had arrived along with fake documentation in his name. If he wanted to be a doctor in an American academy, it would be tedious.

The knock at the door is a welcome distraction, and John's up and over to the door more quickly than he really should be for someone supposedly engrossed in something. He pauses at the door give it a moment not to look overeager, then opens it. There's a man he doesn't recognize standing there.

"Something I can do for you, mate?"