He hopes that now, this day of all days, his oldest friend will not fail him.
He enters the darkened space of his ex-rooms in 221b Baker Street. He can’t see the man, but can feel his presence.
“The prodigal son...” A distinctive voice smirks lowly, smoky and wistful.
“Holmes, it’s been too lo-”
“Eighty four days to be precise.”
“I need...”
“
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