1.
There's a boy with golden skin skateboarding down the path. Sherlock spots him, moves to the right, and goes back to his book. He hasn't walked far when he is knocked off his feet. He tries to correct his fall so he doesn't turn his ankle, but he's too late.
"I'm so sorry!" the other boy says, kneeling in the grass and examining a scrape on his elbow. The skateboard rolls down the path on its own. He stands, gives Sherlock a dazzling smile, and extends his hand to help him up. "I'm Victor. Let's get you to the infirmary."
2.
Sherlock's GCSEs are a nightmare but it doesn't matter in the end. They share a celebratory spliff after opening their university acceptance letters. Sherlock feels the mildest twinge of guilt that Victor had to work twice as hard as he did to get in, but he did get in and that's all that matters. They loll by the fire in Mr. Trevor's study and Victor's laugh as Sherlock blows smoke rings curls warm in Sherlock's belly and thrills him almost as much as the sudden press of his friend's full lips to his. It's the happiest summer of his life.
3.
After his father dies, Victor shaves his dreadlocks off and takes out his piercings. He stops doing drugs and stops returning Sherlock's calls. He travels to Ghana hoping to find solace in the arms of his mother's family but finds himself as much a stranger there as in the formal hall at school. He returns home and dates a girl, then a boy, and then another girl. When Sherlock disappears halfway through the term in a haze of whispers Victor turns up the volume on his Discman and sinks low into his hoodie. The one Sherlock left in his room.
4.
Victor stands across the street from 221 Baker Street, smoking a cigarette. Yesterday he'd seen Sebastian Wilkes at an art opening and accidentally made eye contact before he could duck away. Feeling slimy after their conversation, he'd escaped to the loo to wash his hands and dropped his wedding ring three times before he could get it back on, hands shaking so badly from the mention of a name he hadn't allowed himself to think about in over a decade.
As the door to Sherlock's building opens, Victor stubs out his cigarette and hails a cab home to Notting Hill.
5.
The gravestone is a door, shut just as he thought it might open. His marriage had been failing before the name Sherlock Holmes came throttling back into his consciousness; he can't be honest with himself about whether it made things easier to let go. She got the house, and his dreams of sitting by the fire in a likely grotty and cluttered flat were slashed to ribbons by bold headlines. He knows none of it is true, having been witness to the brilliance of that mind. There is an email to Dr. Watson saying just that in his draft folder.
6.
Victor Trevor knows he doesn't deserve this miracle, and this keeps him away for three weeks after hearing the news of Sherlock Holmes' resurrection. The email comes in the middle of his work day.
Stalking is illegal, you know. Do stop lurking around the neighborhood and knock on the bloody door next time or I will have you arrested.
Victor clears his afternoon and takes a cab to Baker Street, getting out in front of 221 this time instead of down the block. The door is ajar. There are seventeen stairs. And at the top, waiting, wryly smiling, his home.