Mrs Hudson busied herself around the room of the late Sherlock Holmes. She let her feather duster run across the shelves and along the windowpane.
John was knelt down in the corner, boxing up the remainder of his things. John gently placed the violin in which John had almost snapped in two when Sherlock decided to play it at five in the morning, into the cardboard box. Now John felt as though he would do anything to hear his best friend play it one last time.
With an almighty crash, John heard something hit the floor.
'Oh, sorry John' Mrs Hudson sighed lowering herself onto the floor.
John jumped up to see what had happened 'What happened?'
'I knocked over a picture off the shelf, all of the frame's glass smashed. Don't worry; I'll just get my dustpan and brush' she rose and darted out of the door.
John began to pick up the bigger shards of glass. It had been a picture of he, Sherlock, Molly, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade at the Christmas gathering before Sherlock had managed to offend everyone in the room. John laughed at the pure sourness of Sherlock's face and oblivion of Mrs Hudson who had her arms wrapped around Sherlock and his shoulders with a broad grin. John made an awkward smile as Lestrade and Molly just stood happily either side of the uncomfortable trio.
John had forgotten all about the photograph and hadn't even realised Sherlock had kept it. To be honest, John couldn't even remember who took it; probably his girlfriend at the time. Was it bad he couldn't remember who that was?
John put the photograph t one side, and as he did so, he realised something was scrawled on the back. .
Family.
That was all that was written. Family? Was this some way a clue to some unsolved mystery that Sherlock had wanted John to solve? Or was it just a meaningless note on the back of the nearest thing Sherlock could find at the time?
John thought not. The way it was written, Jon could tell it was written intentionally there. Right in the centre, written almost parallel to the top and bottom edges. John had not spent all that time with Sherlock not to pick up a thing or two.
Family. What had Sherlock meant?
Maybe it didn't mean anything - perhaps, it was just a meaningless doodle.
Either way, John didn't care. It was the first time he had smiled in days.