The woman takes the coin, shoving it into the folds of her clothing, then hands you a dozen roses. But Holmes, again lost in thought, does not reply. Outside King's Cross Station Holmes follows you into the station. To the west, a train on the platform hisses impatiently as porters assist passengers and load baggage. Families give their tearful farewells to loved ones, and children run amid the crowds and columns.
Beggars shake their tin cups at top-hatted gentlemen and perfumed ladies.
At the northern end of the platform, a uniformed stationmaster watches over all, occasionally checking the watch he holds in his hand. The station may be exited to the south. The platform is less crowded here. The stationmaster barely glances at you, then looks at his watch and studies the pandemonium behind you. The stationmaster pulls a large pad from a deep pocket, rips two tickets from it, and with an efficiency acquired from years of practice, punches them to show date, point of departure, destination, and price.