A/N: Quite obviously not mine. I just had this idea pop into my head, and wanted to put it to paper, so to speak.
He's back at the flat, one last time. All his things are boxed up and sitting in Harry's living room at the moment, but he has several prospects for where he'll go next.
No, there's just a few things he needs to take care of-Mrs. Hudson has a new tenant coming in to look sometime next week and he'd rather get this all done with.
There's a box sitting on the table. Only a few things are in it-a small glass container with metal lid, one wobbly headed cat, a handful of expired nicotine patches, that thin strip of white cardboard that could easily be mistaken for trash.
Mycroft already has the violin, and all the clothes have been sorted through, perhaps given away. The fridge was cleaned out half a month ago.
Box in hand he walks to the fireplace and notices that the wall has been cleaned or re-papered. Taking one last look, he glances out the window, then slips the skull into the remaining space.
Moving quickly now, he walks out the door, pulling it shut behind him. He's down the stairs and in the foyer without realizing it, and slides the key from his pocket to the bannister. Then John Watson leaves 221B.