The new droid was pretty, with milk-and-coffee skin and tight, springy curls. John consulted her papers and discovered she wasn't even a true Holmes android but rather the creation of one of the Holmes subsidiaries, the Donovan Corporation. Still, she was a proper, through-and-through medibot, designed specifically for use in big hospitals with minimal human staffing. He searched her face for a long, quiet moment before bending down and pressing his thumb to the spot just beneath her ear and holding it there.

After a few moments her eyes slid slowly open. But they were dark eyes, dim and distant, and John left the room before she'd even finished powering up.

x

John's building was silent. He sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, and felt the silence echoing inside of him. He felt empty, hollow. A million ideas ran through his head- some dangerous, some terrible- but his eyes remained perfectly dry.

When the silence became unbearable he stood, changed into his streets clothes, and switched on his telecast. He hit record, swallowed.

"Firstly, I want to apologize," he said, not quite looking at the camera. "St. Bart's is huge, I know, and you're going to be running it alone now…but I can't come back. I just…I can't. They'll send you someone new soon, anyway, and who knows? Maybe it'll be a pretty girl or something. I…"

He cleared his throat. "Secondly, I'd like to tell you not to worry, and ask you not to report me missing. I know what I'm doing, and I know the risks involved. Just…I have to do this. I have to try. So please…please just accept that, and let me go. You're not blind, Stamford. Sherlock and I might have fancied that you didn't know about us, but I think you knew enough to understand that I can't…I can't just let this happen. I have to try.

"And third, I'd like to thank you." John looked straight into the camera, his throat rough from held back tears. "You've been a friend. Hell, you were my only friend for a long time, and…well, thank you, Stamford. Mike. It's been a pleasure. I hope I see you again." He swallowed hard, blinked, looked away. "Well, that's it. Good luck, mate. And good bye." He clicked the camera off and held his finger over the send button for a long, long time before finally pressing it as lightly as a leaf hits the ground in autumn. The sending icon flashed. It was done.

John switched off the telecast and stood. He palmed his phaser, considered it for a moment, and then tucked it into the small of his back. Sparing one last glance at the place he'd called home since the war had ended, John folded his arms and nodded. There was nothing left for him here.

He jogged down the steps and out into the street, picking a port at random. It didn't matter, really. He'd piece the puzzle together soon enough, and then he'd do the only thing that made any sense anymore. He'd find Sherlock Holmes.

A/N: Another bonus! I have a sequel planned for this in which John is a BAMF and Sherlock has been presented to the world as Mycroft's actual brother and not a droid at all. It'll be told from various POVs and will feature appearances from Miss Adler (Sherlock's fiancé), Lestrade (John's accomplice), Moriarty (second in command at Holmes Institute and suspicious of Sherlock's claim as the company's heir), and Moran (Moriarty's henchman/lover/etc). Sounds fun, right? Don't know when I'll get to the actual writing part of that one (I've started some of it, but not much), but the planning has been interesting, haha. Until next time!