The only thing that told him she was gone was everything of hers.
All of it had disappeared, leaving his usually semi-tidy room impeccably clean. Sherlock Holmes looked around him, baffled. There had been no indication that she would be leaving, no actions that would tell him the truth, she had been so happy earlier that day, and now she was just… gone.
He stepped forward, trying to smell her perfume on the air, but he couldn't find it. She'd planned this, then. Planned precautions against him finding her.
Something gripped his heart, and it hurt. He wasn't sure what it was, but John would later tell him that he was feeling loss. It was a familiar feeling, but only slightly, as he had only felt it once before – though this time, it was on a much greater scale.
His hand went to his pocket, feeling the brand new box he had only just purchased that day. Went out especially for. A sort of gift for her – only John knew about it. And she had taken the opportunity to disappear.
Gina Moriarty had disappeared from his life, and he wanted her back, and would gleefully kill to make it so.
God, he needed a cigarette.