A/N Sherlock Holmes is based on Basil Rathbone's performance. The scene takes place 10 years before the movie Sherlock Holmes and The Secret Weapon

A TIME TO MOVE ON

London, 1932

He kicked the autumn leaves all the way to Baker Street. The cathedral clock struck midnight right before Peter knocked at the door of 221B. He put his bag on the ground and took off his hat, as he went over the good manners lessons his mother had tried to teach him when he was seven. He had forgotten her face and how she dressed, but her voice still sounded in his head. Ten years later, he still strove to make her proud.

"Hello, there, is–"

"Get in and wipe your feet. He is waiting for you upstairs." The doorman was not much older than Peter, but he took his job quite seriously and glared at him.

"He's waiting for me? At this hour?" Peter glanced at the stairs and started up.

The door opened as soon as he knocked. "Peter, please come in and close the door, quick!"

Peter complied, without asking any questions about the bullseye target behind the door. However, the weapon in Mr. Holmes' hands was too strange to let it pass. "Is that a blowpipe?"

"Indeed. Have you seen a weapon like this before?"

"I've read about the headhunters in Borneo."

"Well, there haven't been headhunters in Borneo in more than one hundred years, but yes, it was a good guess. Please, take a seat. I'm sure you have a good reason to have come long past bedtime, my young friend."

"Digby downstairs said you were waiting for me."

"I told him not to hold you at the door. I was watching the movement of the autumn leaves to calculate the speed of the wind, when I saw you walking down the street."

"Of course," Peter nodded, putting his bag down beside his chair. "So, are you chasing headhunters now?"

"Oh, no, something better, but that's a story for another time."

"Better than the giant rat of Sumatra?"

"Perhaps." Holmes shrugged, lighting his pipe. "I'd rather hear your story, Peter."

"My story?" Peter frowned as he searched his pockets. "Well, sir… I looked around and I found it. The boathouse with the blue and white flag… It's at the piers, Westminster Bridge Road." He handed Holmes a piece of paper. "Here's the address…"

"You did it again! You should be a magician," Holmes smiled. He perused the paper and put it in his dressing gown pocket. "What else do you want to tell me?"

"What else?"

"Yes," he stared at the bag on the floor. "Are you going somewhere?" He pointed at it with his pipe. "From the way you packed, I'd say you were in a hurry, ready for a long trip. The zipper is barely closed."

"Oh… that… Yes," Peter sighed. "I'm leaving home. Me father don't want me there anymore, see? Things got ugly and I took me pistol and–"

"Peter, you didn't." Holmes leaned forward, his eyes boring into Peter.

"No, no… he snatched it from me and kicked me out… I can't go back, can I?" He smirked, fidgeting with his hat. "This is me last job, guv'nor."

"I'm sorry to hear that… but what will you do? Join the circus?"

Peter opened his eyes wide. "How did you know?"

Holmes chuckled and shrugged. "I know you have been working part-time for The Amazing Bloomingtons, but I was joking. You have thought about it, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have… me only concern is the little sister. I'm afraid that she's going to think that I'm abandoning her."

"Dr. Watson and I will look after her, you don't need to worry about that."

"I know, you have been so nice to us."

"We're going to miss you, Peter. Are you sure there's no other way? You might stay here; Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind."

"Oh, you needn't bother. I talked with Mr. Bloomington, they're leaving soon, and I can go with them. I'm going away for a long time." Peter could not hide his excitement.

"Peter, you can't change your past, but working on a better future is a good step forward. I'm sure you will come back this way someday."

"I ain't coming back home." Peter digested what Holmes had just said. "But don't worry about me, I'll make plenty of money and have a good life." He held out his hand. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, guv'nor."

"I thank you more," Holmes shook hands briefly. Then he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a wad of bills. He put them on Peter's hand and patted his shoulder. "This is not a goodbye. You'll always have a place in the Baker Street division of the detective police force."

"Aye, sir. I'll never forget what I've learned here." He stared at the money and shook his head. "This is more than you promised. Finding the boat wasn't that hard."

"Nonsense, you deserve it. Take it as an investment in a bright future."

"I'll be back when I'm rich and famous, then." He put on his hat and kept smiling until he stepped outside. Then, a sudden sadness hit him. What was he doing? This was the only life he had known. His friends and his family were the only people he cared about, and he was leaving them behind.

He stared at the autumn leaves fluttering around him as his steps took him away from Baker Street. Like the leaves, he moved forward, without ties; like them, he would find his way over any stumbling block. He adjusted the collar of his coat and began to walk more briskly, smiling to himself. He would come back eventually but, for now, he would allow the wind to show him the way, just like any autumn leaf.