Ducking his head until his eyes became accustomed to the light, Sherlock walked beside his blind companion, his mind frantically working out a way to get away both from his new friend and from this area.
He couldn't go home, they knew where he lived. And for the moment there was no-one else he could trust.
"You can trust me."
"I don't know who you are."
"No, that true isn't it?" The smaller man grinned. "However, you'll not get far in just a pair of trousers and shoes with the soles hanging off."
"How did….."
"Makes a noise as you walk. Now," he reached out and unerringly grasped the other man's elbow, "in here."
Sherlock found himself in the back yard of a deserted wholesaler. His companion let out a low whistle, and two young men slipped out from behind the industrial sized waste bins.
"He needs a shirt or jumper, a coat, and if you can find him some shoes he'll be less likely to break his neck." He held out a hand, and the younger of the two placed the strap of a backpack securely into it. "Thanks Keith, now get going, before he freezes to death."
As Keith and his friend hurried away, Sherlock found himself being dragged through a small door into the back of the building.