CHAPTER 4

The door to 221b Baker Street didn't open the first time. Sherlock knocked once more, faster and louder this time. Once again the door did not open. Sherlock was getting impatient now; he needed to get to the wedding and every minute delay could cause him to miss the whole event. I'll try one more time he thought and knocked one final time. No answer. Sherlock was confused, Mrs Hudson was definitely in the house because Sherlock could hear her rummaging around inside and the faint buzz of the radio. In one final attempt to get her attention, Sherlock lifted up the letterbox flap and called out. "Mrs Hudson!" The house fell silent. "Mrs Hudson, it's me. Sherlock Holmes." The silence continued for what seemed like forever until finally Sherlock heard the distinct sound of Mrs Hudson's footsteps. The door creaked open slowly.

Mrs Hudson stared at Sherlock in disbelief. All the colour had drained from her cheeks. "Sherlock." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. "We thought you were dead."

"I'm so sorry Mrs Hudson, it was for the best. For all of you."

"How was it for the best?!" All the colour had returned to her face now. Mrs Hudson was angry now, her body trembling with rage and her hands clenched. Sherlock had never seen her so angry. "I think you better come inside, you've got a lot of explaining to do to me and even more to John." As she said last bit all the anger left her, her countenance completely changed to that of a few seconds before. It had obviously been a very hard time for John. "Try and be quick, we've got a wedding to go to. I guess that's why you are here." She turned and went into her flat. Sherlock followed.

Inside the flat Sherlock and Mrs Hudson sat down in the small kitchen. As Mrs Hudson busied herself making tea, Sherlock told her everything that happened at St Bart's. Sherlock knew that now he had come out of hiding there was no use keeping it secret; it would be better that the public knew the truth instead of the falsities given to them by Moriarty.

Once Sherlock had finished his tale, Mrs Hudson sat in silence in awe of it all. Then, after a few minutes, she got up and hugged Sherlock. She had tears in her eyes as she whispered, "I'm just glad that you're safe." Sherlock embraced Mrs Hudson, glad that he could finally see her again, not in disguise.

"Oh, Sherlock, look at the time!" Sherlock turned to face the clock. It read 11:30. "We have to leave for the wedding soon. It starts in two hours and we don't want to be late. Why don't you just pop up to your flat, grab a nice suit and sort yourself out. You're a mess. Everything in your room should be just as you left it; John wouldn't touch a thing. Too many memories I think..." Mrs Hudson tailed off when she noticed the glum look on Sherlock's face. "Don't worry dear. You can speak to John before the wedding if you want to. Now you and I must get ready." And with that she left the room.

Sherlock walked up the familiar steps to 221b for the first time in over a year. The flat looked much the same apart from some items that could only belong to Miss Morstan. He continued on into the bedroom where he found everything completely untouched. The room was completely spotless. There was not an inch of dust to be seen anywhere. John had been cleaning the room meticulously every week in the attempt to keep Sherlock alive in his mind as much as possible and in the hope that he might one day return. A small tear rolled down Sherlock's cheek at the thought of John in the empty room by himself but was soon brushed away. 'Sentiment' said Sherlock 'is a chemical defect found on the losing side.' He smiled to himself of the memory of when he had said much the same thing before. He walked briskly towards the cupboard where he pulled out his smartest suit. He combed his hair quickly and then ran down to meet Mrs Hudson at the door.

"Ready?" she said.

"As much as I can be." he replied and they walked off to the taxi that was waiting for them outside."

On a completely different side of London, Jim Moriarty put down his mug of coffee. He picked up his phone and unlocked it, looking around him to check that nobody was looking. A message was there from Moran. Moriarty quickly de-coded the message. It read as follows:

"All is set for this evening. -M" Moriarty smiled, so far everything had gone off without a hitch. It was a simple enough crime and yet Moriarty couldn't help feeling slightly apprehensive. The public could not know about him surviving St Bart's and now that Sherlock was back in the public eye he would soon be solving crimes once more. 'Moran is on the job. We cannot fail.' Moriarty thought to himself. He locked his phone and finished his coffee. 'The life of the consulting criminal is a good one.'