This open?

Yes

"Then do I get permission?" he asked, looking you up and down. "If not, then I'm going to track down Moriarty by myself." he walked to the door and opened it, before looking at you again. "It's gonna be dangerous if you accept, but it will be enjoyable too. Call me if you accept." With that, Holmes closed the door, leaving you alone to your thoughts.

Midnight sighed and went into the kitchen, grabbing a saucepan. (Famous Ivy quote: Do you ever get that feeling where you want to hit someone around the head with a mace?) Before walking out of the door, looking for him/ knocking on door 221b

A different man, other than Sherlock, opened the door. He looked at you for what was the awkward part of two seconds before asking, "Are you a client? Sherlock's a bit.... busy. You can come in anyways. Want a cuppa?" he gestured for you to follow him into 221b.

A different man, other than Sherlock, opened the door. He looked at you for what was the awkward part of two seconds before asking, "Are you a client? Sherlock's a bit.... busy. You can come in anyways. Want a cuppa?" he gestured for you to follow him into 221b.

"You tell him to get his******over here." she raised the saucepan threateningly

The man hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do or how to react. "I really wouldn't want to interrupt him right now..... He's doing an experiment." Suddenly, a gunshot is heard from inside the flat. "Just come in." he said, waiting.

Midnight shot him a look at walked in, "Sherlock you've got some explaining. Why the heck did you touch the gun instead of checking for a glove type and material on it instead." she glared around the flat

"Didn't need to." Sherlock said, putting a head that was riddled with bullet holes back in the fridge.
You looked around the flat, your eyes wandering from the outdated wallpaper, to the skull on the mantel, to the bullet holes and the spray-painted smiley face on the wall, to an unfinished game of operation.
"By the way," Sherlock washed his hands in the sink. "have you met John? John, this is Midnight. Midnight, this is John." he said, introducing you to the man who had greeted you at the door. "Put that pot down before you hit someone."
He sat down in a chair, his fingertips pressed delicately together.

"Didn't need to." Sherlock said, putting a head that was riddled with bullet holes back in the fridge. You looked around the flat, your eyes wandering from the outdated wallpaper, to the skull on the mantel, to the bullet holes and the spray-painted smiley face on the wall, to an unfinished game of operation. "By the way," Sherlock washed his hands in the sink. "have you met John? John, this is Midnight. Midnight, this is John." he said, introducing you to the man who had greeted you at the door. "Put that pot down before you hit someone."
He sat down in a chair, his fingertips pressed delicately together.

She crossed her arms, still holding the saucepan, "That is the point, genius. Doesn't take a rabbit to realise that. And, breaking another law? Without specific police permissions, which you wouldn't have had time to get, you can not keep a gun, private detective or not." her fingers drummed against the arm holding the saucepan. There was no way she was letting any corner slip, "You'll have police running anyway from that gun noise and the neighbours so you can get permission. I don't care about your excuse that much, but why do you refuse to check the gun for material or fingerprints? this.. Tm. they'd never do it personally. Couldn't we get hold of their little ally-pet?"