She thought that this couldn't be possible.
Her Sherlock, dead?
Her John, broken?
Martha Hudson shook her head in the absurdity of it all. How in the world was Sherlock dead? And what was all of this nonsense of John moving out?
She thought back to one day, when she had been abducted by those horrid men, when they were chasing some woman's phone.
John had instructed her to leave, but Sherlock shook his head, saying, "Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street? England would fall!
Mrs. Hudson sat down in her little flat of 221A Baker Street and tapped her foot repeatedly, hand shaking as she placed down her cup of tea.
And she knew it, then.
It wouldn't be an issue if she left her little flat.
But she knew that if Sherlock and John left their abode in Baker Street…
Then England would truly fall, just as Sherlock did, off of the hospital building.
Deep, deep down, however, Mrs. Hudson knew that her boys' time couldn't be up.
Not yet.
Somehow, they'd return to where everything began… right there in 221 Baker Street.
And so she rose from her chair, swiping at her eyes where tears had involuntarily fell.
Martha Hudson might be grieving woman, but she was a woman who had work to do.
Martha Hudson was going to make Baker Street ready if- well, not if, but when- her boys came back.
"Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect."
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