One More Miracle

Back to Baker Street: Part 1

Author's Note: Thanks to all you guys for reading this! It means a lot! But I just wanted to let you know that I changed the original time period from 2 months to 5 months because it felt more right to me, if you understand that. I know that isn't what was originally written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but I can't take John and Sherlock being apart for several years. So this is my way of coping. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Sherlock's POV

The homeless network had been the secret to my success for these past five months. If it hadn't been for them, I don't know where I'd be right now. Probably in a small nest in the woods by the cemetery, horribly underfed and awfully close to death, not to mention completely isolated from the real world. Luckily, I had wormed my way so far into that network that I could get practically anything I needed.

And now, I needed to get back the 221B Baker Street undetected. The detective, undetected. Ironic. I couldn't let Mrs. Hudson see me entering or leaving the flat. She had already been one of Moriarty's targets, and I couldn't risk her getting in trouble. And secretly, I wanted John to be the first person, homeless network aside, that saw me alive again.

There was a shortcut in the woods that led me to a gathering place for London's homeless, and that's where I went first after figuring out my plan for keeping myself connected. I traveled down the well-worn path that my feet had made over the past five months, my thoughts obviously straying back to John showing up at the cemetery. I remembered how he had look so defeated. Like he had given up, though I knew he hadn't completely. His outfit suggested that it was his day off from work, and I was relieved, if only just a little, to know that he was still working and was trying to move on.

Then I remembered how I had felt upon seeing him. Like everything was going to be better now that the doctor had shown himself. I remembered how hard it was to keep myself from sprinting from the clearing and right to him. I remembered how guilty I had felt at his pain, the pain that I must have caused. The aftershocks of all these emotions still rippled through me occasionally, but of course aftershocks were easier to withstand than the original earthquake, even when the epicenter had been my heart.

Above all, I was a little bit surprised that John had come back. I hadn't expected him to, and though it was a pleasant surprise at first, I knew that things could only be bad if John was coming back to see my grave. Guilt coursed through my veins again, but only for a second this time. The aftershocks were getting smaller.

When I was just about to enter the meeting place of the homeless, I realized what all these emotions meant. My feet continued to carve the familiar path, and my mind continued to wander. I had always tried to stifle my emotions, but today it had been impossible to do. I hadn't felt this much in such a short period of time since who knows when. I tried to deduce what this could mean.

Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be true. I knew what wasn't right, and once I had eliminated the impossible, I was left with the most possible explanation. But no, it couldn't be....

I was spared the chance to think about my latest conclusion more when I reached my destination. It was a clearing in the woods, almost perfectly circular, the perimeter surrounded by trees. On the forest floor were a bunch of odd bits and bobbs that the members of the homeless network had found interesting and wanted to keep. There were things like a mangy old boot, a tire someone had discovered on the side of the road, and even a shopping cart. Several homeless people were scattered about inside the clearing: some talking, others playing games with anything they could find, others napping, and one man was talking to himself in what sounded like fluent French.

I knew what to do next. I simply walked into the middle of the clearing, pulled a 20-pound note out of my pocket, and held it up it in air. All of the heads in the clearing turned to look at me. I raised my eyebrows, daring anyone to come forward. When nobody did, I lowered my arm and sighed. This wasn't uncommon, but I still didn't like it.