Martha Hudson kept two bottles of champagne in her refrigerator at all times. At first, she just kept the one, but then there was the night when she and Mrs. Turner decided to indulge in some bubbly while watching X-Factor and talking about their tenants. After that, a backup bottle was always on hand. Because Mrs. Hudson had lived a long time and knew one day that champagne would be needed in 221B Baker Street.

Martha Hudson knew she had to have the champagne cold and ready for the day her boys realized what they meant to each other.

The sleek black car pulled up to 221 Baker Street as it had so many times before, but this time Mycroft Holmes was there to visit Mrs. Hudson. She greeted him warmly at the door.

"Mycroft, thank you so much for dropping by. Care for some tea?"

Mycroft settled into an overstuffed chair and did not speak as Mrs. Hudson prepared their tea. She handed him a cup, and he helped himself to milk and sugar from the service. Then Martha broke the silence.

"You do realize that John doesn't live here anymore."

"Yes."

She sat down, absently stirring sugar into her cup. "After the funeral, he barely could come back to the flat. I think most of this things are still here."

"Yes."

Martha smiled thinly. "I know that you offered to pay John's rent while he was here, but he's gone now. He and Sherlock were paid up through the end of the month, so I still have a week to start preparing the flat for new tenants."

Mycroft sipped his tea.

"I've already packed up some of Sherlock's belongings. I've started on his experiments and clothes and so on. What would you like me to do with them?"

Mycroft set his cup on the table and cocked an eyebrow at Mrs. Hudson. "Didn't John want any of Sherlock's things?"

She let out a trembly sigh. "That poor man. I don't know if he took anything of Sherlock's. He didn't even take all of his own things. Last time we spoke, John said he wouldn't be coming back."

"I will continue to honor the terms of their lease and pay rent on the flat, Mrs. Hudson. Please leave their belongings as they are."

Martha gasped. "But why would you do that?"

Sadness drifted into Mycroft's eyes. "Sentiment."

Six months later, Martha Hudson received a letter from Mycroft Holmes stating that he wanted to renew the lease on 221B Baker Street in his brother's name for another six months. He also requested her permission to continue to monitor her home for security purposes. Then she started a routine of entering her boys' flat and cleaning one room each day. After all, if Mycroft Holmes needed the illusion of the flat being ready for his brother's return from the dead, who was she to deny him?

Mycroft sat down at one end of the sofa and looked around the homely sitting room of Mrs. Hudson's flat. Floral prints and dusty hardwood floors were a stark contrast to his own living quarters, but this place still felt like a home. He did not really understand his own motives for extending the lease in person this time, but he had found himself giving the Baker Street address to his driver without a second thought. Mrs. Hudson's eyes lit up when he knocked on her door, and Mycroft had the feeling that his visit was not entirely unexpected.

This time, tea cakes and custard creams were sitting on the tea service. Mycroft could tell that Mrs. Hudson was happy to have the opportunity to take care of someone, and he felt an unexpected rush of affection for the woman.

"You know," he began softly as he stirred his tea, "I think Sherlock was happier here than any other time in his adult life."

Martha smiled. "He did seem happy, well, until…"

Mycroft looked down at his teacup. "You and John were his real family."

Mrs. Hudson got up from her chair and sat by Mycroft on the sofa. She patted his knee. "He knew you cared. Brothers sometimes don't get on, but that doesn't mean they don't love each other."

A bit of the Holmes' arrogance showed itself. "I can assure you, Mrs. Hudson, that it is far more complicated than that."

"Isn't it always?" She gave him an understanding look.

Mycroft reached for one of the tea cakes. "I'd like to extend the lease on 221B for three more months." He bit into his cake, and his eyes opened wide. "This is really quite good."

"Why? Sherlock isn't coming back, and neither is John."

Mrs. Hudson was looking at Mycroft with keen eyes. He started to wonder what she saw. "I did not do enough to thank you for all of the care you gave my dear brother. This way, you can keep your income without the inconvenience of tenants. Consider this to be gratitude for the gunshots in the wall and obnoxious violin playing." He nibbled on a custard cream.

"These snacks were Sherlock's favorites, you know." Mrs. Hudson smiled reminiscently. "Whenever John would nag him too much about eating, Sherlock would come down here and sneak biscuits and cakes to give the appearance that he could go without food even longer."

Mycroft smiled at Mrs. Hudson, true affection showing through this time. "That sounds like Sherlock."

Martha's eyes grew bright with tears, even though she was still smiling. "What Sherlock never knew is that John bought the sweets. Oh, he could tell better than anyone when Sherlock needed to eat. He also knew that eating a full meal during a case would never happen. But Sherlock had a sweet tooth, and John wasn't afraid to exploit it, so he kept a stash of goodies down here. That dear man knew just what to say to push Sherlock's buttons, then he'd stomp out of the room in a fake huff. Next I'd hear my bead curtain rustle and Sherlock would end up leaving crumbs all over my kitchen." A tear fell down her right cheek. "John took such good care of Sherlock. It's tearing him apart that he couldn't save him."

Not for the first time, Mycroft Holmes wanted to give John Watson a knighthood. And the truth he deserved.

"Nothing John could have said would have stopped Sherlock from…" pause "…doing what he felt needed to be done." Another pause. "You do know that Sherlock wasn't a fake, right?"

"Of course, Mycroft Holmes. I have never doubted your brother, not for an instant!" said Mrs. Hudson, in an admonishing tone.

Mycroft made a decision. He leaned towards Mrs. Hudson. "I have my best operative hunting down the rest of Moriarty's organization. He's in London right now." He looked her directly in the eye. "May I bring him some of these cakes and creams?"

Three months later, Martha Hudson received another request for a lease extension and a care package of biscuits. She called John Watson to check up on him, and to let him know that Mycroft was extending the lease again and still investigating Moriarty's organization. She also asked which bakery sold Sherlock's favorites.

The next time Mrs. Hudson heard from Mycroft Holmes, it was a phone call.

"What is she like?"

"Who, dear?"

"Mary Morstan. I know that you met her and John for tea yesterday."

"Oh, she's lovely. The two of them get on quite well together." Mrs. Hudson said warmly. Then she asked, "Don't you know all this from your surveillance?"

"She's American, even affiliated with their government. Watching her would be deemed inappropriate by my counterparts across the pond."

Mrs. Hudson could almost hear Mycroft's teeth gritting together and had to stifle a laugh. "But her background check?" she teased.

"Passed with flying colors, I assure you. Otherwise, she'd already be out of our dear doctor's life."

Mrs. Hudson knew it was wrong, but she was so very pleased with Mycroft Holmes.

Not long after John Watson moved in with Mary Morstan, Mycroft sat across from Mrs. Hudson at teatime. He displayed an atypical hesitation and said, "Feel free to tell me that this is none of my business, and forgive me for being indelicate."

"Ask away, dear."

Mycroft worried a biscuit between his fingers. "Do you know.. Did they… Had they ever…Were Sherlock and John together?"

"You mean Mister 'Not gay, but I'll ditch my girlfriend for you without a second thought' and Mister 'Married to my work, but I'll curl up with you on the couch and watch Bond movies to make you happy'?"

Mycroft looked piercingly at Mrs. Hudson, who finished her thought. "No, as far as I know, they were not in a romantic or sexual relationship." She smiled fondly. "But I'd never seen two people more completely devoted to each other."

He ate the biscuit before it completely crumbled away. "Thank you for telling me that."

"Why do you ask now?"

Mycroft Holmes sounded uncertain. "I'm trying to understand what my brother lost on the day he jumped."

Mrs. Hudson reached over and patted his hand. "Oh, sweetie, that's simple. He and John both lost the most important person in their lives."

Martha worried the hem of her skirt. The Mycroft Holmes sitting on the sofa across from her was not a man she recognized. Not even the man she'd seen a mere two weeks before. His hair was disheveled, and there was stubble along his jaw. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, and he clutched his teacup like a lifeline.

"Mycroft, dear, what's wrong?"

His voice was weak as he replied, "My operative has missed his last two check-ins."

He left not long after that. A few minutes later, Mrs. Hudson placed a phone call. "John, dear, I know it's last minute, but would you meet me for tea today? Anywhere you like. What's that? Oh, I'm alright, it's just… well… the memories are strong today. It's selfish of me to ask this of you, but I feel like I'm losing Sherlock all over again."

Two months later, Mycroft sent his assistant to Baker Street. After Mrs. Hudson supplied the young woman with a care package of custard creams and cakes and a one-month lease agreement, she walked up the stairs to the flat. She opened up the windows to air out the place. She spent her afternoon dusting and sweeping, mopping the lino, and putting fresh sheets on the beds. She draped Sherlock's favorite dressing gown over the edge of his bed and brought up fresh toothbrushes to the bathroom. She fluffed the Union Jack pillow on John's chair. She supplied the kitchen with tea and biscuits, beans and bread.

Yes, Martha Hudson had lived a long time, and she understood more than most expected. She kept two bottles ready for the day that champagne would be needed in 221B Baker Street.

Martha Hudson knew she had to have the champagne cold and ready for the day her boys came home.