The Man with Two Names
By the Salt Monster

221C Baker Street—two weeks later

"Okay," I muttered distractedly. "Okay, my cab will be here in a minute. I've got everything…yeah, everything." I looked around at my now empty apartment. I had only lived there three weeks… It was surreal.

I struggled up the stairs with my luggage, the heavy case making a disturbingly loud thud each time I lugged it up one flight.

"Here, let me help you." I almost fell back down at the unprecedented offer of assistance. I looked up at Sherlock, whose face was as unreadable as ever. I suddenly felt a pang of guilt for leaving him, but gladly handed him a suitcase.

We set them down next to the door along with one other suitcase. I glanced out the window. No taxi. Not yet, at least.

"I guess this is it," I said sadly, turning to Sherlock.

"For now," he corrected me. I nodded.

"Yeah, for now." I brushed dust from his suit jacket a little absentmindedly. "I've left some food in the freezer for you," I told him, smoothing down his collar. "There's a couple of containers of soup, if you want it. There's also some ground beef—you know how you can make anything from a pound of that. I don't know how much you'll be eating, but it might hold you over for a little while so you won't be bothering Mrs. Hudson…" I rambled on and on, nervously fiddling with Sherlock's attire. He didn't object to my semi-frantic fretting. "Of course, I've told her to check that you're eating – just in case the exhaustion creeps up on you again."

There was a loud honk from outside, making me jump. The taxi had arrived, meaning I had to leave.

"Well, I—I-," I stuttered. I stared up at Sherlock, trying to say everything left unsaid with just a look. "I'm going to miss you," I told him, stating the obvious. "No shooting the walls, okay? And don't put anymore heads in the fridge. It can't be healthy," I said, sounding like a mother talking to her child. I smiled sadly.

"I make no promises." He said mildly, but a rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. My own lips twitched. Outside, the cab's horn blared again.

"Alright," I said nervously. "Goodbye," I said to Sherlock, surprising him with a fierce hug. "Don't get into too much trouble without me!" I wondered offhandedly how long it would be before he showed up on my doorstep. I reckoned it'd be five, six weeks tops before he dragged me into some confounded, Parisian murder investigation.

I held him at arm's length, giving him a stern look. After one final appraisal, I kissed him on the cheek and ran out the door, leaving the apartment and the incredible man inside.

The End

Author's Note: Early, because I'll be gone Friday and Saturday on the most unhappiest of terms.

But…I guess that's it! It's finally done! Wow, I have such a sense of accomplishment.

Sequel? Let me know what you think about that possibility. I've definitely left it open-ended! I think I'm going to be re-working some bits in part I first, but keep your eyes peeled.

As always, I'd love to thank all of my editors, who have given me so much of their time and effort! Thanks to TheAlmightyEditor, She Steps On Cracks, Em, and Nob Ody for working so hard for me!

And thanks to you, the reader, for taking your time to give my story a shot! Thanks so much for sticking with it.