Sherlock climbed out of the cab, and onto Baker Street. His body paused for a moment, allowing him to gaze up at the solid black door.

221B

His home. Sherlock walked purposefully up the stairs, through the door, and into the foyer. His mind reeled with dread.

Please... No...

Without warning his mouth opened and, "Mrs. Hudson?" He called.

NO! That's my voice!

A hot prickly rage filled Sherlock's conciousness. It was one thing to control his body, but another matter entirely to control his voice. If Moriarty controlled his voice, he controlled Sherlock's life. He could do nothing but watch.

"Yes Sherlock dear?" Mrs. Hudson's responded from within her flat.

"Care to join me for some tea?"

It was quite strange hearing the words spoken, yet knowing he had not produced them. His baritone voice sounded alien, and foreign. Mrs. Hudson appeared in the door to her flat, and smiled at Sherlock.

"What's the occasion?"

"A thank you gesture."

Sherlock rolled his eyes un-noticed. Moriaty was doing a poor job pretending to be him. Sherlock bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time as Mrs. Hudson followed in his wake. He entered his flat, his body expertly navigating the looming piles of debis to the kitchen. Sherlock's hand reached for the small cabinet where he had a secret stash of china- saved for special occasions. Nobody knew about it, not even john. That gave Sherlock pause.

How did Moriarty know?...

Sherlock spun around, and practically skipped over to his medcine cabinet.

Oh no.

Sherlock whiped the door open to reveal a plethora of poisons. His hand floated teasingly over the non-lethal poisons, but closed around a small container of botulinum. He inadvertently started whistling The Thieving Magpie as he boiled water, and prepared the kettle. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder and observed Mrs. Hudson smiling cheerily over at him from his armchair.

"You know Sherlock, this was very nice of you. But it was quite unexpected. You know... I didn't expect you home so early from... there..." Mrs. Hudson's face fell.

Sherlock was confused. He had told told Mrs. Hudson that morning he had no idea about when he was returning. He hadn't even told her his destination. Sherlock got an inkling that he was missing something. He laid out the tea cups upon the counter top, and turned his back to Mrs. Hudson. He lightly sprinkled a fatal dose upon her tea, then watching it float to the bottom.

Sherlock struggled, as his body walked slowly to Mrs. Hudson, in a literal death march. He sat down opposite of her and placed the tea tray between them. She shook her head, and put on a smile. She raised the cup to her lips and paused.

"You know I'm quite proud of you Sherlock. I thought the flat would be falling down around your ears with John in the hospital and all."

Wait what? What happened to John?

"You know me Mrs. Hudson. I'm always ready for anything." he said.

Sherlock drank from his glass, as Mrs. Hudson drank from hers.

He did not want to see what happened next. He did not want to see her look of betrayal. His hand replaced the cup into his sacucer, and he closed his eyes. Unfortunately he could not stop his brain from analyzing the horrible retching sounds, and gasps, and the thud of Mrs. Hudson's body falling to the floor. A single tear leaked out from Sherock's eye.

He will pay Mrs. Hudson. I swear on my life.

Sherlock's body apparently did not want to stay stationary. Sherlock kept his eyes closed as his body stood up and left, still invisioning the moment Mrs. Hudson smiled at him and said she was proud.