The old woman arrived duly on time at Montague Street. The clock had not yet struck half past three, and she walked into the messy room. Sherlock could not waste such an inviting opportunity, and scanned her from head to toe. He didn't say anything, but just pointed her towards the chair opposite to his.
"Oh, thank you, Mr Holmes." She carefully sat down into the chair. Sore hip. Obviously.
"Tea?"
"Oh, thank you, Mr Holmes," the lady said, looking around the room.
"Is that all you are going to say, Mrs…?" he impolitely asked. "You obviously know my name, otherwise we would not have been able to make the appointment. Your name is not Mrs Turner, I reckon, although you used that name on my website."
"Oh, no. No indeed, it is not. I am Silvia Hudson. Mrs Turner is my neighbour, she has a computer, I don't, but.. "
"How can I help you, Mrs Hudson?" Sherlock asked impatiently.
"Young man, I may be old, but I like to be treated with a little respect, please! I am trying to have a conversation with you!" she suddenly bursted out. Sherlock blinked, surprised. That such a small, old little lady could be so fiery… this could become interesting.
"Continue," he said, trying to be more polite. She had a point, after all. "Please," he quickly added after a piercing look from the lady opposite him.
"Thank you, Mr Holmes. I have been married for some years now, twenty-" "Twenty-seven, to be exact," Sherlock interrupted curtly.
"Is this a habit of yours, Mr Holmes?" the lady asked, without any disapproval in her voice, but also void of any admiration.
"I am afraid it is, Mrs Hudson," the tall man admitted. He wondered about this elder lady, he never had a client like her.
"I have been married for twenty-seven years, as you were kind enough to point out. Now, my husband visited America for his work last month. He made a erm.. violent mistake, and now he is sentenced to death. I know he didn't do it, he never would go that far."
Sherlock leaned backwards in his comfy chair, already on the verge of being bored.
"Are you always this loyal, Mrs Hudson? This marriage of yours, it's not a happy one."
She didn't answer him, but looked straight in his grey eyes.
He continued in monotonous voice. "Your ring is shiny, but you lost weight since you bought it, normally it's the other way around. You have little wrinkles around your mouth and eyes, but not from laughing, quite the opposite I would say." He narrowed his eyes, still looking at her. "When you reached for your cup of tea, I saw vague bruises at your wrist and some old cuts. So now I wonder, why coming to me to make sure he will be set free?"
"Mr Holmes, I have been trying this past quarter of the hour to make you listen to me. I want to ask you a favour."
Sherlock sighed, rolled his eyes but tried to listen to the little woman. "What kind of favour?"
"I want you to falsify the evidence, Mr Holmes."
Sherlock blinked, for the second time this day. Perhaps the second time in his life. "You want me to.. Why?"
"Under no circumstances do I want that man back in my house!" The old lady looked at the young man, hopefully. "Please, Mr Holmes, will you help me?"
The only consulting detecitve in the world watched her face intentively for some thirty seconds, than nodded, and a rare smile broke around his lips. "Yes, Mrs H, I will help. On one condition. Call me Sherlock."