"Why on Earth do you want to see that old woman?"

"Oi! She's not just an old woman. She was my..."

"Your what, Sherlock?"

"Dammit Mycroft, she was my friend. Alright?"

"Didn't know you had friends, oh mighty consulting detective."

"...I'm leaving. Don't wait up."

The car had been idling for over an hour, the driver kept looking back at his passenger. The driver, Steven, had been in Mycroft's employ for many years now and he had gotten rather good at being around unusual circumstances without asking questions or talking about it to anyone. However, this circumstance was slightly more unusual than the others. Steven knew that this young man was Sherlock Holmes and he had heard much about him from both Mycroft and the media.

Whilst Sherlock was distracted, Steven took in his outfit once more. 'Urban camouflage' Mycroft had called it. Made with extreme care and precision to exactly match the church they were parked outside of. When time was finally running short, Steven cleared his throat, waiting for his passenger to look up before speaking.

"Sir, it's about to start any minute, you'll want to get in before they close the doors."

With an almost resigned nod, Sherlock glanced around quickly before slipping out of the car and dodging other latecomers as he struggled to stay hidden. Immediately after Sherlock had entered the church, the service started. He cast a quick look around for John, seeing him up the front, blank face streaked with tears.

Sherlock swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the lump in his throat and the stinging in his eyes. He turned his attention towards the priest as he opened the service.

"Good morning, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of an amazing woman. Martha Hudson was a parent and friend to us all..."

"The ceremony was beautiful, you would've loved it. I never even realised how many people... Well, that just shows what a terrible renter I am. I feel like I knew nothing about you, especially after today. All the stories, all the memories people had with you. I'm a little bit jealous, I'll be honest. I wish I had known you better. I'm sure Sherlock does too."

John stood at Mrs Hudson's gravestone, like he had at Sherlock's all those years ago. Tears were still streaming down his face, but he kept talking. Kept saying his final goodbyes.

"I really wish Sherlock had still been here to see it. I know he would've missed you as much as I do, even if he had hidden behind his detective mask and buried himself in his work. We would've known."

He took a final deep breath and half-turned reluctantly, "I have to get back to work, we're low on staff at the moment. I just wanted to let you know that, you were never just a land lady. You were one of the best friends I'd ever had."

With that, he turned, making his way to St. Bart's. With John's departure, Sherlock was free to step out from behind the trees. For a short moment, Sherlock watched John go. As John got too far away for Sherlock to see any longer, he turned towards Mrs Hudson's grave.

"I've never been too good with emotions, as you well know."

There was a moment of silence as Sherlock desperately tried to think of what to say.

"I'm alive. But you probably knew that. You always did know more than you ought to. I know you were angry with me for a time, but I promise you. What I did that day was completely necessary. It's been three years, and I've finally done it. You were finally safe."

A sob escaped him and he fell to his knees.

"You were finally safe. If only you had waited!"

"...I'm sorry. I just... I don't know. I failed you. I had my return so perfectly planned and I was going to get you to understand what I did. It would've been just like old times. But you see, in this vision. You were always there. And now? You've ruined my plan Mrs Hudson. And that was very inconsiderate of you. But I love you. You were the mother I always wanted, and the friend I didn't know I had until it was too late."

Sherlock stood, brushing the dirt flat again. "It won't be the same without you Mrs Hudson. I'll miss you more than I ever thought was possible. You were the only other person that believed in me wholeheartedly. I'm going to go, Mrs Hudson, but I'll visit you every month and I'll look after the flat for you. When I go back, I promise I'll stop doing those silly little experiments that got you so frustrated, I'll stop shooting the wall. I'm sure John will help keep me out of trouble."

With that, Sherlock swiftly turned and headed back to the car, fresh tears and a feeling of new found resolution following him. He would take this as an example. He couldn't wait in the shadows forever. Stupid things like this happened all the time. Mugging, reckless driving, shootings. Any one of those could take away his remaining friends, and he refused to leave them in the dark any longer.

Today was the day he returned.

small bonus - Mycroft and Sherlock plot his return

Mycroft was in the lounge when Sherlock returned. One look at his face was all it took. Ignoring the red eyes and the still wet cheeks, Mycroft addressed the determination.

"When will you do it?"

"Tonight. I want to be there for them to offer comfort."

The two brothers sat the table for over four hours, perfecting the plan, making sure that the focus would not be on Sherlock returning, because Mrs Hudson deserved to remain in the spot light. Sherlock would do this for her and for every opportunity he had but ignored. Sherlock would return for John, to comfort him as he lost someone close to him. He would return for Lestrade, to help him track down the bastard that did this to Mrs Hudson. And he would return for himself, because even he needed someone in these darkest of times.

And he would return for Mycroft, because Lord knows he was getting sick of Sherlock's whining.

THE END