John stood staring blindly out of the window, his head tilted slightly as if listening for something specific.
"Do you miss it?" Sherlock asked, and then with a hiss of disgust answered his own question. "Yes of course you must!"
He moved closer, so close that a deep breath now would bring his chest in contact with John's shoulder.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." It was said sharply, almost defensively. "I'm not in need of pity."
"I didn't…"
But the moment was lost in the sound of footsteps clattering up the stairs. There was a light tap on the door, and it opened to reveal a young girl with greasy blond hair. Behind her was Paul, one of the youths Sherlock had met the day he was rescued.
"Hi Doc!" the girl said brightly, grabbing him and pulling him in for a hug.
"Kallie, are you looking after yourself okay?"
"Always the mother hen." She rolled her eyes as the four of them sat down.
"What've you got for us then Doc?"
"A search job Kallie. Sherlock here has a name and some vague information. I need you to visit the libraries and check electoral rolls." John handed her a piece of paper with all that Sherlock could remember written on it.
"Where do we start then?"
Sherlock looked at her. "Battersea."