My mind palace is not the place it used to be.

Honestly, it took exactly those 27 months after my 'death' for it to fall into state of total chaos. Well, I can still use it, when I search information, but I can't 'relax' inside it any longer.

It's not very relaxing. But much more entertaining.

It was – of course – John Watson who made the difference. Well, the first one to make the difference. At first, when I kept people inside, it was just posters, pictures on the walls, no one ever entered the Palace, but me.

But one day, on day the Little John Watson from my Mind decided not to stay being dull picture anymore and started wandering the halls.

For some reason he is not exactly the same – he is more childish than the Real John, probably because he doesn't have to take care of me, or his sister, or his patients. He plays jokes and keeps poking into old memories of mine, I never wanted to see again, but kept them stored anyway. He keeps opening long ago locked doors and making a mess out of my card files.

That happened three weeks before I 'died', the strange resurrection of John's little alter ego. But after I left, I started noticing that he was no longer the only one wandering my Mind Palace, but our 'friends' and comrades as well.

And Jim Moriarty.

I put him into the prison, but he didn't stay long, because John, for some reason, unlocked the bars and let him free. Well, Little Moriarty is not really the same as was the Real Moriarty, either.

I catch myself spending a lot of my time inside of my own mind and I am sure John would have something to say about it. Well – the Real John. If he didn't think I was dead.

I amuse myself by watching the people Inside interact. Real John once showed me something called Shimeji on his computer and it's a bit like that.

For some reason Little John spends too much time with Little Moriarty. I don't like it, but can't really do anything about it. When I once tried moving Moriarty back into his prison, Little John not only released him again, but for a week kept on sabotaging almost everything I did.

Those two, Little John and Little Jim, spend their days playing hide and seek with guns. They once ran into Little Mycroft and Little John almost shot him. Little Mycroft then spent the rest of the day chasing them with his umbrella.

It was kind of funny.

Little Jim is trying to chat up Little Molly and I can't help but wonder that if Jim hadn't decided to be evil, he would be quite a nice guy.

When I next have time to visit my Mind Palace, after destroying the rest of Moriarty's web, it's when I am sitting in a plane waiting for it to land in London.

I guess there is one person more inside, so the first place I check is the prison – just for the tiny probability that John hadn't managed to free him, yet – and I watch Little Sebastian Moran sit on the bed.

Little Jim is nowhere to be seen, so he is probably with Little Molly.. Again. I remember when Little John decided to give him the big-brother Talk over Molly and Little Idiot (I am not sure why I don't just delete Anderson completely) decided to hug the doctor and Little John proceeded to punch his gut. It was brilliant.

Little Jim saw it fit to laugh at the misfortune of the Little Idiot and Little John decked him as well.

Now was the Palace strangely silent and I watched Little John sit in the shadows of the 'prison', watching the Little Moran, who obviously knew about him, but didn't say anything.

They both ignored me, which is not really nice, since they exist in my head.

But Little John hasn't freed Little Moran and Little Moran hasn't said anything to him and they just keep staring at each other.

I can't wait to be back home to ask the Real John why the hell would his alter ego do that, but I don't think he would answer. He would probably think I finally lost it.

When we touch down I can't help but smile. Welcome home.

Well, not yet. I quickly put out my phone to warn John beforehand. I have seen how hard he can punch (Little Idiot is still walking very carefully around Little John and while Little Jim is still as irritating, he acts like a right gentleman towards Little Molly).

I run my fingers over the familiarity of my phone, sending a quick message to my blogger.

I ma not dead. Needed to pretend to save lives, back now. Can I come home? -SH

I hide the phone back into my pocket and start walking towards the Baker Street, because I know it will take some time to persuade John to forgive me for leaving and going by cab would be far to fast.

My phone buzzes in my pocket almost immediately and I fish it out without any patience.

I know. -JW

I feel my heart beat just a bit faster when I read it, wishing that he would write more, because this is not John, not my John.

How? -SH

The message is sent quickly and I quicken up my pace. I want him to write more, to keep writing, to tell me everything.

Mycroft. -JW

I grit my teeth in annoyance. John was always too talkative, but the one time I want him to elaborate, he doesn't.

I will kill him. Can I come home? -SH

Yes, I am aware I am repeating myself, but he haven't answered yet.

Of course you can, Sherlock. It's your flat just as much as it is mine. -JW

Ah, familiar bite. That's something at least. I smile and call for a cab, suddenly very eager to be there as soon as possible.

Are you home, now? -SH

Yes. I will make you tea. Are you injured? -JW

Not much. -SH

I hear the phone buzz again, but I don't bother reading it, because the car pulls to a stop. I run out of it paying the cabbie just in passing and up the stairs as soon as possible.

John is already leaning against the doorway in his jumper and it makes me smile even wider. He is smiling as well and when I stand to a halt in front of him, he fiercely pulls me into a hug and who am I to protest, right?

"I am home.." I whisper into his ear and I can hear his laughter vibrate trough his chest.

"Welcome home."

I am very sorry. This is just insane, really. I needed to get it off.