The Autobiography of Mycroft Holmes

Chapter 35: Back at 221B

I arrived in front of 221B Baker Street in a Rolls Royce cab provided for me by the Diogenes Club. Mrs. Hudson emerged from the front door of her shop, looking exactly the same as she always had. She waved to me enthusiastically, and ran back inside to open my old door for me.

"Ms. Holmes!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed when she saw me at the door, embracing me as I walked in. "I assume you are still Ms. Holmes, and not Mrs. Something or other..."

"You would assume correctly, Mrs. Hudson," I stated. "You know me better than I thought you did, you know that?" I said, walking in.

"Oh, Mycroft, I never thought I'd ever see you back in here again! It really is good to see you in here again... To know you are on good terms with Sherlock again is really a treat, considering your history and all... Oh, and your suit is lovely! Much better than the old ones..."

"I'd say so. Did Sherlock return yet from her outing that she presumably did not tell you the destination of?"

"No, in fact, she did not. How did you know?"

"She was with me. I guess I'll have to wait upstairs for her pending arrival. Would you show me up to the apartment? Is it still the same as it always was?"

"Nearly identical."

"I can believe it, but I also can at the same time..."

"Watson's things are there, though. He lived in these quarters before he was married, but he still has a lot of his things here because he still does work for Sherlock... You know about that, right?"

"I know about the whole business, Mrs. Hudson, probably better than Sherlock herself."

"Are you alright to see it?"

"Of course. I am not my sister, Mrs. Hudson. You know that better than anyone..."

As I drifted off on this tangent, thinking, Mrs. Hudson flatly stated: "Okay, Mycroft, I'll show you to Sherlock's rooms; your former lodgings. Come with me, please."
I snapped back into reality, and followed Mrs. Hudson.

She took me up the old stairs (the eleventh stair creaked just like it used to!) and opened the door. I looked in, and smiled with genuine happiness.
How fantastic it felt to be home; truly home. I had never really felt at home in America with my mother and father or at Oxford. As much as the Diogenes felt like home to me, 221B was my only true escape from my work and duties; my only true home.

Mrs. Hudson was the best landlady a person could ask for, and its distance from all other aspects of my life made it even better to me.

I must have stood in the doorframe for three minutes, just staring into the living room. It did, in fact, look the same as it had when I lived there.

Watson's things were strewn about the room, melding into their surroundings as mine did years ago and Sherlock's still did.

I took a seat in my old chair, now presumably Watson's chair. The red velvet of the chair's back and seat were now covered by a blue blanket, and there was a book on the nightstand that Watson had presumably been reading. The Case Files of a Great Detective. Not Sherlock Holmes, not yet.

Just then, Dr. Watson opened the door. With a start, he backed up again. I don't think he expected to see me there, and I was not surprised in the least. He had no idea that I used to live at 221B Baker Street.

"Come in, Sherlock! Come in, my dear sister," I said, when I saw my sister at the door as well. I could see the look of distaste on Watson's face when he processed that I was sitting in his chair, which he didn't know was really mine. "You don't expect me to be so involved all of a sudden, do you, Sherlock? But somehow this case attracts me."