A/N: EDIT: Ack! Sorry! Apparently the second chapter was the same as the first chapter. My internet was wonky when I tried to post this, so something got screwed up in the publishing process. Sorry! Fixed now!
A/N: Waiting to be able to watch the new episode, so I decided to write this. Wasn't planning on writing a second part of this, but I'm bored. XD So. This is shorter than John's, and I didn't get all the parallels in that I had wanted, but whatevs.
Disclaimer: Still don't own Sherlock. If I did, I would have already seen the Empty Hearse.
Two years.
Sherlock stares at the black door, the gold numbers still standing out clearly. 221B.
He felt a strange feeling come over himself. The plane ride back to London was boring, as he had predicted. The entire ride, he mulled over how he was going to announce himself back into everyone's lives. He hadn't thought it would be difficult, but then…
Baker street? He isn't there anymore. He's got on with his life.
He'd spoken with Mycroft, who had told him about John.
John hadn't been hard to track down. He wasn't hiding. He had a place over on the other side of the city. But he wasn't there right now. Sherlock had checked.
So now he stood in front of the black door, the place he had once called home.
He gave a short, quick nod, then strode across the street to his door.
Two years.
Mrs. Hudson was inside, in her flat. Washing dishes. He could hear her as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
It had been two years.
It was good to be home.