Baker Street now felt empty. Even more empty than it had felt when he'd gone home after being hit several times by an angry John when he had returned. Back then he has been distracted by Mrs. Hudson's attentions and had inmersed himself in The Work in order to avoid that feeling of... emptiness. Now, even Mrs. Hudson wasn't home.
Home. He wasn't even sure where home was anymore. He liked 221b Baker Street but he loved it when John was in it. Two years ago he would have been sure, this flat was Home. But now that John was married with a wonderful woman and was going to have a child... he couldn't tell.
Sherlock wasn't going to leave John, but he didn't want to interfere with his friend's newly found domestic bliss. His Best Friend, he reminded himself. That had been a nice surprise... Who would have thought?! Sherlock Holmes, best friend of a good and brave man!
It's alright, he said to himself, this is the beginning of a new chapter, not the end of an era. In this chapter, he wasn't that important. But it was fine as long as John was happy. As long as John was safe.
Then why did it felt so wrong?
He sighed. How had this happened? Since when Sherlock Holmes could feel lonely? He likes being alone... but lonely... that's different.
He stared at John's chair. It was funny. How it had become John's chair and no one else's. Now the sight of it only brought him a strange sensation. A little sting in the chest. Maybe he was getting a cold? It had been a bit windy outside the reception, after all...