It was 5 p.m. and the wind on the river was chilly. Sherlock had been thinking about his dream and the shocking sight by the window.
After a few hours, he did not know how his little cutie worm was doing at work.
People were always practical. If one was of no use, they would call him trash. If one was useful, they would start calling him little cutie…
Anyway, he finally stopped a carriage and headed towards Baker Street.
In the evening, when the sunlight had been completely diluted by the steam, Sherlock finally returned to his new home.
He paid and got out of the carriage… Just as he was about to look up at his window,
his eyes were drawn to the two people in front of his apartment door.
