Lestrade dropped Holmes off at his flat, and sped away before he found out what she had done to his flat.
Holmes didn't even turn glance at his house, instead he stood
there, watching Lestrade speed down the road, thinking.
'Moriarty is still out there, already planning his next move. No
doubt his next plot is more evil and sinister than this one. But
I'll be ready for him.' Holmes thought, still staring down the
street. 'Besides, something good came out of all of this. I do
believe Lestrade and I have a future together.' Holmes didn't
even scold himself for thinking this, as he would have before.
Holmes turned toward his flat and gasped. His hand-carved, three
hundred-year-old, mahogany door had been blasted to pieces,
leaving the inside of his home unguarded. Holmes looked down and
saw a couple of footprints. "Lestrade!" Perhaps there wasn't a
future in store for them after all.