beyond the gravestones (sherlock/johnlock fanfic)

Chapter 12

"Who's Bertha? I mean, who is she really?" John asked.

"I can't tell you her real name, boys, sorry." Mrs Hudson said, "She was in the inner ring of my husband's drug cartel. Her brother, too, but he wasn't too keen on it. He tried to get out multiple times. After my husband's execution, the cartel collapsed, they both changed their identities, and I never heard from them again."

"Until Bertha turned up at your doorstep three days before her death."

"Yes. I didn't want to let her in; I thought that drug thing was gone and done with! But she insisted."

"What did you talk about?"

Mrs Hudson took another gulp of tea. "She told me that she'd been receiving anonymous threats. Someone was prepared to put all the information about her past with the cartel straight into the hands of the police. I suppose she thought I was being threatened, too."

"Were you?"

She swallowed. "I was, for a little while. Nothing I can't handle. Just a few letters, saying clandestine things like 'I know what you did', snippets from a file, 'I could go to the police'. No, you can't have them, I've already burnt them. They stopped within a few days."

Sherlock was quiet. The very thought that anyone would want to hurt Mrs Hudson made his blood boil. "You should've told us earlier, Mrs Hudson. I would've tracked this reptile down. I would've made them pay."

"Yea, remember that time when an American attacked you and Sherlock threw him out of the window?" John added, "I was right there when she visited. You could've told me. We wouldn't let any harm come your way, you know that."

Mrs Hudson smiled warmly at them. "Yes, of course I do. I just didn't want that dreadful business catching up with me again. Now, off you pop. I have work to do."

John and Sherlock shared an uneasy glance. Neither felt like letting Mrs Hudson off the hook so easily, but she could be uncannily stubborn when she wanted. They hesitantly rose to leave.

"Oh, one more thing," Mrs Hudson said, "John, I do believe I know someone who would be interested in buying your house."

"Why would I want to sell my house?"

"Oh, dear. Me and my big mouth. It was supposed to be a surprise."

"What was?"

"I've been drawing up my will. I don't intend to die anytime soon, of course, but what with bombs upstairs, one can never be too careful." She shot them a stern look, but it quickly melted. "I'm leaving 221B Baker Street to the two of you. Oh, don't look so shocked. This is your home, and it always has been."

She reached out and lovingly squeezed their shoulders.

"After all, you're my Baker Street Boys."

***

Sherlock sighed impatiently, closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He was bored. After spending the past two days unsuccessfully hounding Mrs Hudson for more information, he'd hit yet another dead end. At this point, he felt like a sitting duck - just waiting for the next crime, the next move on the chessboard. He recognized John's gait on the stairs - still limps very, very slightly - and had to try hard not to smile. It was Friday, which meant he would get John all to himself for two entire days. The door opened and then slammed - oooh, repressed anger - but Sherlock didn't bother opening his eyes.

"So, Irene Adler's been here again." John asked.

"However did you deduce that?"

"Met her at the door. Er, whatever it is that you two do in the seclusion of the flat - I would request you to control yourself around Rosie."