Sherlock Holmes sat in the back of the government car supplied by his brother Mycroft and snuck another furtive glance over his shoulder. It was still there. A dark blue Mercedes with blacked out windows had been following them all the way from the airport hotel where Sherlock had been staying since he arrived back in London. He'd asked his driver to make several unusual turns in an attempt to lose it, but it seems his pursuer knew the backstreets and one way systems of London just as well as Sherlock did, and despite the traffic still managed to keep hot on their heels. Sherlock turned back in his seat and stared out of the window. They had just turned onto Baker Street and as they pulled up outside 221B his heart involuntarily skipped a beat. He thanked the driver and got out then stood for a moment and watched the government car drive off down the street and turn the corner, followed by the car that had been trailing them. As the Mercedes passed him, Sherlock squinted in a final attempt to see through the blackened windows. He could just about make out the shape of a man in the back seat and felt eyes boring into his...but nothing more. He felt a shiver down the back of his neck, then it was gone and so was the car.

Sherlock turned his attention back to his old front door and allowed his fingers to gently carress the letters and door knocker. In his left hand he grasped the shiny new key provided by Mycroft. He'd asked him to change the locks as an extra security measure for John. He wanted to be sure of John's safety whilst he was away. Now he took that key and turned it in the lock, and the door of his home swung open noiselessly. He stepped inside and closed it quietly behind him. He was immediately struck by the not unpleasant scent of Mrs Hudson's perfume hitting his nostrils mixed with the smell of cottage pie. He pricked up his ears and listened a while...she was in the kitchen, singing to herself whilst cooking. He smiled as he approached the stairs. He had to resist the urge to run straight to Mrs Hudson and let her know he was alive...but he knew he had to stick to his original plan. He had to tell John first.

He took the stairs slowly, careful to miss out the creaky 4th step and go straight to the 5th. In a matter of seconds he was standing back inside the flat...the place he'd been away from for 3 years. The first thing he did was go to the windows and close over the curtains. Then he allowed himself a couple of minutes to walk around slowly, inspecting everything, taking it all in. He instantly noticed that the place seemed a lot tidier...certainly the kitchen was the tidiest it had been in years. He opened the fridge and glanced inside. Sparkling clean...not an experiment in sight. He grinned. He'd soon change that. He also noticed that many of his possessions appeared to be missing. No sign of his chemistry equipment - his test tubes, bunsen burner etc; no sign of the skull, or his treasured violin. Frowning slightly, Sherlock headed towards his bedroom, quite eager to see whether it was still the same as he'd left it. Upon turning the handle he found that it was locked from the outside. A lock had been put on the door. How strange, he thought to himself. Not that a lock would ever put him off. He removed a thin piece of wire from the inside of his coat pocket and it took him less than a minute to pick the lock.

He opened the door to his bedroom and walked inside. So that was where all his stuff had gone - the chemical equipment was stacked in the corner; his violin was inside its case on his bed, and on top of the violin case was the skull. Sherlock approached the bed, picked up the skull and looked at it fondly, then placed it back down and began to fumble with the locks on his violin case. He'd bought another one whilst he'd been away but it wasn't the same as his old favourite. He took it out the case and was just tightening up the bow to play a tune when he heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. He raced out of the bedroom and ran to the window, twitching the curtains slightly to look. Yes, it was John, returning home from work. With a devilish grin, Sherlock leapt onto the sofa and assumed his position whipping a blanket up to cover himself. This plan to leap out and surprise his friend was going to be quite delightful.

Last edited by Sherlock Holmes (May 19, 2012 12:09 am)