A week had gone by somehow. Sherlock was going to home the next day. John had spent a lot of this time talking to Mrs Hudson...he learnt more about Sherlock in that week than he had in the previous two months. Sherlock never talked about his past...John had wondered, but he hadn't pried. Mrs Hudson knew everything there was to know about "that boy" as she insisted on calling him.

She seemed keen that John should know everything as well...She told him about his troubled relationship with his parents. They had never paid much attention to him (or Mycroft, for that matter) as a kid. His father had been a diplomat. He'd travelled a lot, been busy all the time. He'd treated his children more as a nuisance than anything else.

His mother had been an artist. She was still rather well known. She lived for her work...so her kids saw too much of their nanny and not enough of their mum. They had really grown up not knowing how to love or what it was to be loved.

Sherlock had quite naturally, grown into a socially awkward teenager. And then he'd met someone...a young man called Jim who happened to be a friend of Mycroft's. Sherlock had been sixteen at the time, just discovering that he was gay. Jim was friendly...and Sherlock had never had friends...he was funny and interesting and very obviously attracted to Sherlock.

Sherlock was flattered...he was young and naive and he soon found himself very much in love. Jim said that he loved him too. They began a relationship that lasted a few of months... until Jim decided that he was bored and that he didn't want to hang around with a kid anymore and he left.

Sherlock was heartbroken. He'd tried to talk to him, get him to stay, but Jim made his disinterest obvious. He had used him and now he was done with him. And then his parents found out. His father simply couldn't stomach the fact that his son was gay. He told Sherlock that he was disgusted with him, that he would never accept a queer as his son. His mother just stood by looking hurt and affronted.

So Sherlock had left home at sixteen...he moved in with Mycroft, who had been everything in the world to him then. Mycroft took good care of him. Sherlock's career had just begun to take off and for two years he was very happy...

Then came Victor and a relationship that almost destroyed him...Victor was a pianist. They met on a few occasions and then they started playing together. They performed together several times and then they brought out a couple of very successful albums. They had a happy relationship.

But then Victor started doing drugs and Sherlock followed. In a couple of years he was an addict, blowing away his money and his life on drugs. Mycroft tried to talk to him, persuade him, but Sherlock would not listen. He was too much in love with Victor. Then Mycroft did the only thing left to him. He offered Victor money to get the hell out of Sherlock's life. And Victor, scum that he was took the money and left.

"He left Sherlock convinced that nobody would ever love him. That's why he thinks you're a miracle, John." Mrs Hudson said. "He knows that Mycroft acted for the best, but he resented him for taking Victor away...for taking the drugs away, for forcing him to clean up... interference he calls it."

And then came rehab and the painful rebuilding of a life gone all wrong. A good bit of this had been written about or hinted at in newspapers and magazines. John had known that Sherlock hadn't had a particularly happy life, but to have it all spelled out like this, made him hurt...it hurt a lot.

He could not understand how anyone could find Sherlock unlovable. How was it possible that anyone could have him and let him go? The man had so much to give. He was special and precious. He was a man to be loved and cherished.

"He's had very little love in his life, dear. I am so glad he found you." Mrs Hudson said as she wiped away her tears. John stood up and hugged her. "Thank you for telling me, Mrs Hudson. I wanted to know, but I could never have asked him."

John spent a long time in bed that night, thinking about everything that Mrs Hudson had told him. He found that his eyes were often full of tears...he thought about Sherlock and this life that they were creating together and he knew that he would do whatever it took to make Sherlock happy and keep him that way.

He had one last thing to do before he fell asleep. He reached for his phone and typed out a text.

Thank you for taking care of him. I owe you more than you will ever know. JW

I was merely doing my job. You have done as much for your sister. MH

It is good to know that I need no longer worry about him. Perhaps I should be the one thanking you. MH