My Missing Boys

London 1986

A very pregnant woman waddles into the waiting room of the maternity ward to check herself in for the birth of her child. She lowers herself onto a chair to wait for the nurses to take her to the bed allocated to her. She leans back gratefully onto the chair back taking the weight from the small of her back. She closes her eyes and begins to doze, only waking when a nurse gently shakes her shoulder rousing her. 'No one with you?' The woman shakes her head sleepily. 'Little one not letting you rest?' the nurse chuckles gently. 'Come on, let's get you settled.' The pregnant woman is helped up by the nurse and is guided to a bed in a semi private room. 'If you don't mind my asking but where is your husband.'

He doesn't want children.' The woman mutters. 'We only found out I was pregnant after it was too late.'

'He's forcing you to give the child up?' The woman nods wearily. 'What kind of man does that?'

'A man who hates any type of change.' The woman leans back against the pillows sighing gently. The nurse turns to go but is restrained by the woman. 'Could you ring a number for me?' the nurse nods. 'Please pass me my handbag.' The nurse picks it up and hands it to her. She fishes into it and withdraws business card. 'Ring the mobile number and tell her it's time.'

'She's taking the baby?'

'Again.' The nurse raises her eyebrow. 'This is my second. She took the first as well. A childhood illness rendered her infertile. It's for the best.' She sighs heavily. 'I know they'll be looked after well.' The nurse holds up the card.

'I'll go and ring her.' The nurse retreats from the room to the nurse's station just outside the room's door. The pregnant woman listens to the one sided conversation from her bed. 'Hello, Mrs Holmes? This is the maternity ward at St Bartholomew's Hospital. Martha Hudson says it's time. Right, okay. I'll let her know.' The nurse sticks her head back into the room. 'She says she's on her way and that she's bringing your first.' Martha Hudson finally relaxes fully into the bed.

Mycroft Holmes walks into the living room of 221b Baker Street carrying several pieces of paper in his hands. John Watson looks up at his entrance. The good doctor raises his eyebrow at the casual clothes that Mycroft is wearing. 'Problem Doctor?'

'Not really, just wondering why your clothes are so casual.' Mycroft smiles at him with a thin lipped smile.

'Is my brother here?' John indicates that Sherlock is in his bedroom.

'I'll go and get him.' John disappears in the direction of Sherlock's room. 'Sherlock your brother is here.' Mycroft listens to the answering growl from his younger brother.

'What does he want now?' Sherlock emerges from his bedroom wrapped in a sheet. He stares at Mycroft, visibly taken aback at Mycroft casual wear. 'Well?' he demands. In reply Mycroft hands Sherlock one of the pieces of paper. 'This is my birth certificate so?' Mycroft hands him another. 'An adoption certificate?' He queries. Mycroft gives him the final two papers. 'With the same for you?' Sherlock glares at his brother. 'I don't understand.'

'We were both adopted from birth?' Sherlock looks at the two birth certificates.

'From the same woman?'

'We both did wonder why Mummy had two children but hadn't given birth.'

'Adoption, we did work it out.'

'Obviously brother.' Mycroft sneers. 'But look at the mother on the certificates.'

'Martha Hudson, father unknown.' Sherlock glances at John before looking back at Mycroft. 'Martha Hudson as in Mrs Hudson?'

'Want me to find out her maiden name?' John asks. The Brothers Holmes nod their thanks. John leaves them staring at each other. He returns moments later. 'Mrs Hudson's maiden name is Fisher.' He tells the two of them. For a moment both brothers are shocked into speechlessness.

'Come on, what are the odds?'

'It explains why she's so maternal to the pair of you.'

'She's never had any children. Her husband didn't want any?'

'Who hasn't?' Martha Hudson's voice interjects from the doorway. Sherlock's eyes roam over her lithe frame. 'I do wish you wouldn't do that Sherlock. It is a little creepy. Mycroft opens his mouth to speak but John gets in first.

'Mrs Hudson, these two have shamelessly have brokered a bet between them as to whether you have ever borne children. Sherlock says no but Mycroft yes.' Martha pales but lifts her chin with a show of strength.

'As a matter of fact, yes I have.' She locks gazes with John ignoring the Holmes boys. 'My husband made me give the two of them up.' John steps forwards and guides her into his armchair.

'What happened to them?' He asks gently.

'They were sent to a lovely old school friend of mine. She was unable to have kids and I knew she would look after them as if they were her own.'

'Mrs Hudson,' Mycroft probes gently, 'What was her name?' Martha smiles.

'Her maiden name was Rosheena Partington.'

'Who married Sherringford Holmes.' Sherlock finishes. He stares at his landlady and now biological mother. 'You knew all this time?'

'Of course, Sherlock. I've known ever since I walked into your previous flat to consult you.'

'Did you ever talk to mummy?'

'Oh yes. She kept me up to date with both of your progresses.' She turns to Mycroft. 'I was sorry to hear that she's died.' Mycroft smiles sadly.

'Did you know father?' Sherlock asks.

'Sherry?' Martha Hudson chuckles. 'I was the one who introduced them to each other my dear boy. Sherry was the boy next door for me.' Martha reaches for both of the birth certificates and looks at them.

'Who is our biological father?' Martha looks at him. Sherlock jerks back with disgust.

'Him?'

'The pair of you share his stubbornness and his tendency to want to be alone.' Martha Hudson smiles grimly. 'But neither of you have inherited his violent personalities, although you Sherlock have his manipulation skills.'