I had just come back from the market. Someone needed to fill the fridge with something other than week-old Chinese takeout and the occasional human body part. I sighed, pushing the bags onto the counter space not occupied by beakers and the usual, and walked out into the living room. "Sherlock, I bought the…"
Sherlock was gone. The armchair where I had left him only 36 minutes earlier was vacant. And the window was open, the curtain fluttering feebly. I moved swiftly to it and looked down onto the street. I hadn't expected to see him, hanging around on the fire escape, or on the sidewalk below; still, I was perplexed. Before I allowed myself to give over to the panic, I took a breath, descended the steps and knocked on the door adjacent to the landing.
"Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Hudson, ah…you didn't happen to see or hear Sherlock leave since I've been out, did you?" She shook her head with an affirmative. Right. Now I can panic proper. I sprinted up the stairs two at a time, then stood in the doorway. What do I do now? How am I to find him? Perhaps he left a clue or a trace of some kind? I search the room best I can. Nothing. Damn. Panic. Shit. "MRS. HUDSON? I ah….going to need a little help here…"