Shelock Holmes was not an emotional man. That's what most people would tell you. His principles are reason and logic. He doesn't form attachments and believes sentiment to be a weakness.
This is of course tosh. Sherlock was a very emotional man, he was also very good at suppressing his emotions. He had many attachments, John Watson, Molly Hooper, Lestrade. And of course, Mrs Hudson.
Kind and decent Mrs Hudson, who was now being laid to rest in the presence of her family and closest friends.
As he said in between John and Mary, Sherlock tried to make sense of the pain he was feeling. It was in his nature to rationalise everything, to find the logic and reason.
This was different. There was no rationalising grief. Mrs Hudsons death had hit him like a freight train and he had no coping mechanism whatsoever.
John was worried. Sherlock had barely said a word since he had been given the news and John suspected he hadn't been eating properly either. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin paler than usual.
As the coffin was drawn behind the curtains Sherlock couldn't control the wave of sadness that surged through him. She was gone. He would never see her again.
The wake was held at Baker Street of course. Sherlock arrived in a cab with John, Mary and Molly. He headed straight to his room, bypassing the mourners gathered in his living room.
Ten minutes later John and Molly were chatting in a corner, Mary having gone off to refresh drinks and nibbles.
"I don't know what to do with him Molly. He's like a lost soul. All he does is sit in silence or play mournful tunes on his violin," Johns concern for his friend was evident and Molly put a soothing arm around him.
"Oh John, it'll get better. He'll come around. I honestly think it's because he doesn't know how to deal with losing someone so close to him. You know what he's like, he doesn't deal with his emotions in the same way we do."
John nodded.
"Yeah." He took a drink of his lemonade.
"Listen, would you mind having a word with him? It's just, I've tried and tried and I just can't get through to him."
Molly frowned.
"And what makes you think I'll be any different? You're his best friend John. If he won't listen to you…" she shrugged.
"No really Molly. He respects you, he really does. You're a good influence on you. I honestly think there's a chance he might listen to you. You've got a way with him, you know you have."
Johns eyes were pleading and Molly found she couldn't say no. She sighed.
"Okay. I'll give it a try."
"Thanks Molly. I really appreciate it."
Molly set her drink down and headed for Sherlocks room, filled with apprehension.
When she reached his door she knocked gently. His low voice came rumbling out.
"Go away John."
"Um, it's Molly actually. Can I come in?"
She was met with silence and was just about to walk away when the door opened and she was pulled inside.
Sherlock closed the door again promptly and Molly leaned back against it. He sat down on his bed and studied her with tired eyes.
"Come to console me have you?" he spat.
"Sherlock," she said softly, moving towards the bed to sit next to him.
"We're just concerned about you. John doesn't know how to help you. He's so worried. We all are. Mrs Hudson wouldn't have wanted you to sit around moping. She loved to see you excited about a case." Molly spoke quietly in an attempt to diffuse his anger.
Sherlock's only reaction was to bow his head, so Molly took a chance and moved closer to him. She lightly covered his hand with hers, fully expecting him to immediately snatch his hand away. She was surprised when he in fact turned his hand over and entwined his fingers with hers. Unsure of weather to speak or not, Molly merely squeezed his hand, hoping it would convey her support. When Sherlock lifted his head up to look at her his eyes shone with unshed tears.
Her heart melted at the sight of him so vulnerable.
"Oh Sherlock," she sighed, reaching out for him. He quickly moved into her arms and she soothingly rubbed his back.
"It's okay to be upset Sherlock," she murmured into his ear, "she loved you like you were her own son, of course you're going to be devastated. You have to give yourself time to grieve."
He sniffed and she tightened her hold on him, running a hand through his lovely curls. She held his as his body shook with sobs, enjoying the feel of being so close to him, despite the less than ideal circumstances.
Eventually Sherlock calmed and pulled back in Mollys arms, his eyes red and bloodshot. He cleared his throat and smiled at Molly.
"Thank you Molly."
She shrugged, "I didn't really do anything. But you're welcome."
He nodded and moved to sit on the bed, his back against the headboard, his long legs stretching out in front of him. He patted the space beside him and Molly moved to sit next to him. He quickly reached for her hand, entwining their fingers again.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Sherlock spoke, his baritone voice still a bit raspy.
"I remember the day she was attacked by that American. I don't think I've ever been so angry in my life."
Molly grinned.
"Yes, I think you made that pretty clear when you threw him out of a window."
Sherlock smirked proudly, causing Molly to giggle.
"He deserved it," Sherlock shrugged grinning.
"True. You never told me how you met Mrs Hudson. I'm assuming it was crime related?"
Sherlock nodded.
"Her husband was running some sort of drug cartel. She was a friend of my mothers and I was asked to assist in the case. By all accounts he was quite a rotter, women and drugs, all behind Mrs Hudson's back of course. I merely ensured he got what he deserved."
"Which was?"
"The death penalty."
Molly frowned.
"Oh sorry, they were living in Florida at the time," Sherlock hastily clarified.
Molly nodded.
"I see."
Sherlock continued.
"A few years later I was looking for a new flat in London. I knew Mrs Hudson still had Baker Street so I thought I'd pay her a visit. As luck would have it she had an empty flat."
Molly moved closer to Sherlock and rubber their shoulders together.
"She loved having you and John here, you were like the sons she never had."
Sherlock scoffed at this and Molly nodded.
"No really. She told me that herself, at Johns wedding. She was so proud of him, and of you with your wonderful best man speech. And you know how much she loved the little one. She was your family Sherlock and she knew how much you cared for her."
Molly willed for Sherlock to believe her.
He sighed and rested his head against Mollys.
"I know. I'm not really handling this. At all. I don't know how to make it go away."
"It's just time Sherlock. Time will pass and it will get easier. Talking about it helps too. Try and talk to John. He's hurting too and he's also worried sick about you."
Mollu felt Sherlock nod his head. He lifted his head to look at her.
"What should I do Molly?"
He looked so earnest Molly had to smile at him.
"Talk to John. Let him in. I know it's your instinct to regress, but it really helps to talk about things," she said gently.
"I do feel better having spoken to you."
Molly touched her cheek with her hand and smiled fondly at him.
"You'll feel even better after talking to John, I promise."
Sherlock frowned and shook his head.
"I don't know Molly, I don't think he will out do you for sympathy and good advice."
Molly moved to stand up from the bed.
"Well I'm glad I've been a help. Are you coming out or…?" She gestured towards the door.
Sherlock shook his head, his dark curls bouncing.
"No, I think I'll just stay here tonight, talk to John in the morning, I promise."
Molly nodded and headed for the door.
"Okay, I'll let him know. Night Sherlock."
Molly was just about to walk through the door when Sherlock called her back in.
"Molly wait!"
Molly turned around and found Sherlock standing in front of her. He leaned over and closed the door again.
Molly looked at him questioningly.
Sherlock cleared his throat before speaking.
"I was wondering if maybe you'd stay? Just for tonight? You can borrow some clothes to sleep in of course."
Molly considered his request. Sleeping next to Sherlock was pretty much her life ambition, but not after his landlady had just died. Nevertheless, she found she couldn't say no to him.
"Of course, you know I'm always here for you. I'll sleep in John's old room. There's still a bed in there isn't there?"
Sherlock shifted uncomfortably.
"Well yes there is, but I was rather hoping you'd stay here in my room. With me," he clarified.
Molly gaped at him, causing Sherlock to smirk.
"Do close your mouth Molly." He delighted in the blush that quickly stained Mollys cheeks. He took her hand and pulled her towards the bed.
"Well?" he looked at her expectantly.
TBC….
Thanks for reading!