Your and Watson's tenant in common none other than Sherlock Holmes, the brilliant detective of England!
And what a fair morning it would've been if you hadn't walked on Holmes occupied yet with another experiment. The smell of your newly-bought sente-oil --that caused you a fortune-- by the way, strongly filled his office.
The mess wasn't a new sight, totally not surprised to see Gladstone half dead, the poor dog became an experimental rat for the detective.
"In my defense--" he starts to justify why he spent your perfume in his experiment, though, and couple of other belongings of yours ruined at his desk and around it.
There's no remorse in his gaze whatsoever as he looks at you. As if it was alright for him to break into your room and steal, he says borrows what he needs for his research.
On a second thought.. He is the worst! to share a living quarters with!