This story wraps up my Sherlock universe that started with "A Study in Women". Many thanks for the support you've given me this year. Good luck dealing with the emotions of Series 3, and I hope to see you during the next Great Hiatus. Here's to a wonderful 2014 for all of you.
"I can let you in, just this once, because you've been so good to my boys," said Martha Hudson, as she unlocked the door to 221B Baker Street. Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes were still arguing on the landing, as Martha paused on the threshold.
"Look, Mycroft, you can't keep disappearing their messes," said the Detective Inspector exasperatedly.
"What would you have me do, hmm?" responded Mycroft. "My brother has improved your case record considerably since his return." He was poised to continue speaking, but noticed Mrs. Hudson had stopped moving into the flat.
"Um, perhaps you gentlemen should come back later." Mrs. Hudson started to close the door.
"Is everything okay?" Greg gently pushed past Mrs. Hudson, and then paused in the open doorway. "Huh."
Mycroft closed his eyes and sighed. "What has my dear brother done this time?"
This prompted muffled giggles from the other two. At that, Mycroft opened his eyes and moved to view the sitting room.
Sherlock Holmes' long coat rested in the center of the room. His blue scarf was draped over the back of his armchair. John Watson's black jacket was partially under his chair, as was one of his worn brown shoes.
As the three leaned hesitantly into the flat, they noted several other items of clothing strewn along a path into the kitchen. A gun dully reflected the early morning light as it leaned precariously against the skull on the mantle.
"Of all the things here I will try to forget I ever saw, that," pointing to the gun," is probably the most important." Greg stared at Mycroft accusingly.
"Thank you, Detective Inspector. Your discretion is most appreciated."
At the elder Holmes' words, Greg smiled. "It's about time." He tilted his head towards the evidence scattered all around the flat.
Martha tiptoed into the kitchen. "I don't hear anything incriminating. Let me just make sure we're correct and not that they've been murdered in their sleep."
One fine striped sock propped the door to Sherlock's bedroom a tiny bit. Martha delicately dislodged the door from the sock's grip and peered into the room. Sunlight illuminated the room enough that Martha could see John sleeping on his back, his arms around the dark-haired man who was curled up on his chest. Sherlock was awake, and at the slight squeak of the door, he looked towards Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock smiled, his genuine happy smile, and buried his nose at the juncture between John's scarred shoulder and his neck. Even in his sleep, John tightened his hold on the man in his arms, and Mrs. Hudson closed the door, tears in her eyes.
As she walked back into the sitting room, Greg and Mycroft both raised their eyebrows, prompting Mrs. Hudson to smile through her tears and give two thumbs up. "Excuse me while I run downstairs to grab something for the happy couple when they eventually drag themselves out of bed." She winked at the two men. "I've kept champagne on hand for just this occasion."
As the kind woman left the flat, Greg turned to the mantle. He carefully picked up the gun. After making sure the safety was on, he asked Mycroft, "Let me use your handkerchief?"
It took Mycroft a few moments to respond, as he picked up his brother's coat and draped it over the back of a chair. "Oh, of course."
Greg wiped down the gun, ridding it of gunpowder and fingerprints, while Mycroft distractedly tidied the room. As Greg returned the gun to a more stable position on the mantle, Mrs. Hudson returned. She carried a tray laden with a bottle of champagne, a carafe of orange juice, scones, and clotted cream. She placed it on the kitchen table and walked to where Mycroft and Greg were standing in the sitting room. She whispered, "That should help them keep up their stamina, don't you think?"
Greg laughed, and Mycroft covered his face with his hands. The government official's shoulders shook, and Greg thought he was laughing until Mycroft wiped away a tear. Greg placed a tentative hand on Mycroft's shoulder. "You okay?"
Surprisingly Mycroft smiled. "Yes, I'm going to be okay. Finally, I think everything is going to be okay."
Mrs. Hudson rose to the tips of her toes and gave Mycroft a kiss on the cheek. Reaching out to grab hands of both men, she said, "I have another bottle for us in my flat. Let's leave the boys to their new beginning, shall we?"