This probably has a lot of spelling mistakes but Ill fix them tommorow. Its late but I wanted to post this before I went to bed.

Sorry we're still stuck at 221b. I'm trying to get them out soon!

SHERLOCK

I left the room only briefly, to take more photos. Lestrade stayed in my room, I asked him to sort through some of the files in my boxes. He seemed happy enough to help. Perhaps I will ask him about them later. I took another photo of John, who stuck out his tongue. The Molly girl tried to hide her face, I don't know why. Eventually I managed to take a picture of her. Mycroft virtually scowled when I appeared beside him, the camera in his face. He looked hideous in it. Perfect. The last two, the idiots, protested the need for me to take pictures. Although the one with the big hair didn't seem to mind as much as the one with the silly name.

Satisfied with my photos, I ventured back into my room. Lestrade was sorting the files into two piles. I ignored him, pinning my new photos to the wall and trying to figure out how they all connected. I needed to ask more questions. Good. I like questions. Though I prefer answers. But since I have none, questions will have to suffice.

"Lest..Lestrade. Tell about...them." I pointed to the ones known as Anderson and Donavan.

"Well, they used to work for me. Still do in a way. Anderson was with forensics, he works in a science lab now up in Medical. Donavan was my sergeant. She's with Supply I think now. She bunks with Molly. Why?"

"Why... here? Why they... come?" I really need to work on my grammar. It sounds alright in my head and sometimes out loud. But it is easier however, to sometimes omit words, so that the flow is quicker, rather than disjointed. I still haven't quite got the hang of talking faster.

"Well they used to know you I guess. Besides, they said if I was going, they were coming with me. If you asking what are they to you, well I wouldn't say you were friends, but you weren't enemies. A mutual dislike I guess. But they wanted to come, which means I guess they cared about what happened to you."

So they hated me. Somehow that does not surprise me. I am getting the feeling I didn't have many friends prior to us parting ways. But I have one now, and that's all that matters for the moment. Whatever reason my former self had for not wanting friendship, has nothing to do with me. I am sure they were good reasons. I connected ribbons to both Anderson, Donavan and Lestrade. And then ribbons to myself. I wish I could make some marking that indicated how they connected. But this will have to do for now.

"Who...is M-Molly?" Who is she to me?

"A friend I suppose. She liked you. I think you liked her. She was a mortician. She still is, gets a bit of hate directed at her because of it now, but she doesn't let that get to her. She's changed a lot..." That last part is interesting, why has she changed? And a mortician? I suppose a zombie apocalypse would be immensely interesting to her. And I would be interesting to her as well. A living corpse. Well, sort of living. Why do people hate her?

"What?"

"Oh she's.. she used to be quite shy. She still is but she's grown a lot since the old days. Doesn't put up with anyone's shit if she can help it." He sounds proud. As if she were his daughter.

I connected Molly's ribbons to both him and me. I'd already connected Mycroft's ribbon, but added his new photo. I put Johns with the other photos on the wall. He now had four. I should find something to put these photos in once I no longer need the map. I sat back down and looked at the files. I wonder how he sorted them.

LESTRADE

I didn't know how he wanted them sorted, so when he left to take more photos, I decided I'd make a pile of case files, from Scotland Yard, and personal case files. The ones from people who contacted him. There weren't many. I made a third pile as well. Files relating to the undead. Some were case files, others were information Sherlock himself must have collected. I hope this helped him in some way.

When he returned, he pinned up his new photos and then began to ask questions. I answered as best as I could. He didn't seem very satisfied with the answers. Poor sod found it difficult to form sentences. Here was someone who used to rattle of deductions at high speed and use as many big words as possible. I wonder if he will progress more, or evolve as John calls it. I hope he does, even if he never regains his memories. Kid deserves more than this.

"Now, I hope I did alright. These files are cases we worked on together and a few cold cases you...borrowed from Scotland Yard. These are case files from people who came to you for help. And these, these are related to, well, your kind. Do you..uh..need me to read them to you?" Fuck, because he probably can't read can he?

He nodded, though he didn't seem happy about not being able to read them himself. After reading several files out to him, we decided on a quick system, I summarised what it said, and he either pinned them on the wall or threw them on the floor. The floor ended up looking like a sea of white paper and manilla folders. More of the zombie related ones went on the wall, than any others. And he finally ran out of red ribbon. I think this upset him as he dove through every box looking for more.

"Calm down mate, I'm sure we can find you more ribbon."

"Red! Red ribbon!"

"Yes, I'll make sure it's red. Why don't you wait here and I'll tell them. Alright?" He waved a hand, a familiar dismissal gesture.

I left him, glaring at the map, muttering why, why!? I don't know why he's upset. It's just a bit of ribbon.

John looked concerned when I entered the kitchen again.

"He ok?"

"That's debatable." I shrugged, sitting down in a vacant chair.

"What's happened?" John leaned back against the fridge, his arms crossed.

"He ran out of ribbon."

"He ran out of ribbon? Why would a zombie care about ribbon?"

"Shut up, Anderson. It's important to him. He's... making some sort of map in there. The ribbon are the connections. He needs more and it has to be red. He was very adamant about that."

Mycroft immediately called over to one of the soldiers and whispered to him. He quickly left down the stairs. I hope he didn't make that man go and risk his life over some ribbon. I'm sure we can improvise with something else.

"Murphey and Thompson will head to the nearest Tescos and fetch him some ribbon, as well as other necessities as it seems we may be here for awhile." That's alright then. Bloody bastard read my mind again.

"I better tell him then. Before he makes more mess in there."

"Let me. If he's in a bad mood, it's safer to let me go in."

"Alright, be careful." John nodded with a small smile and headed towards Lock's room.