He didn't come here often, it was one of his 'avoid if possible' places. Those two terrible times when mother forced him and Mycroft on summer camp started with a train trip from here. He never understood the use of those, he saw them as Big Bully Competitions.
Now Sherlock stood in front of the ticket machine, what would be the safest place to go? Madrid, too hot, Berlin, nah, not a good idea, not since the Agriava murders, Paris, they don't speak English, Amsterdam, yes, that would be perfect, he knew homeless people there. Also the Dutch speak English very well. Amsterdam it would be. Departure, 22:00. So he would have to wait.
Sherlock never enjoyed waiting, this time it was different, he wanted to think over his plans. He knew he wouldn't last long without London. Sooner or later he would come back. But for now he just had to disappear. He walked up to a kiosk and looked at the newspapers, nothing special. Tomorrow they would be booming with his head and big lines screaming that he had committed suicide, but for now it was just another day in London.