The failed murder attempt which resulted in your new flat being burnt to a crisp was what made you a temporary homeless. Luckily the idiot who did this timed it completely wrong and set the fire on the one afternoon you got called into work for a night shift. You were just relieved that most of your things where still at your old place.
It broke your heart to see your own flat engulfed in flames. All you could do was stand there and watch the fire-fighters struggle to extinguish the blaze, just staring wide eyed, too shocked to even cry.
You vaguely remembered hearing sympathy from the onlookers and a fire-fighter in the distant explaining that it was no accident when you walked through the growing crowd to call for a cab. What did it matter to you if they thought you where ignorant? You weren't going to be living near them any more.
"221B Baker Street Please"
He was your first thought.
You'd never admit it to anyone, or to yourself for that matter, that you where secretly a little thankful to who ever did this, just so that you could visit the consulting detective. A ridiculous thought, yes, but you've admired him for so long, read every post in his blog, researched everything there was to know about him, dreamt about him, even had his name on your lips whilst bringing yourself to climax. You where and still are infatuated with this man and having a reason to visit him made every bone in your body quiver.