Part Three – Unfinished Business

Chapter Four

The following Tuesday afternoon, Molly took the Metropolitan Line to Baker Street tube station and walked along the road to number 221. She rang the bell for 221A and waited for Mrs Hudson to make her way to the door. The two women greeted one another with hugs and air kisses, and Mrs H led the way through the hall to her own front door, at the rear of the house. As Molly passed the staircase, up to 221B, she glanced upwards, as she always did, and felt the palpable emptiness of the flat above. It felt haunted, by a very powerful ghost.

Molly sat down at the table, in Mrs Hudson's kitchen, whilst the hostess put on the kettle to make tea.

'Where's little William, then?' she asked.

'Oh, he's at the nursery,' Molly replied. 'I left him there this morning, as usual. He likes his routine, doesn't take kindly to sudden changes of plan, and I was working this morning so it seemed the sensible thing to do. And it gives us more chance to talk. I need to tell you something and to ask you a huge favour,' Molly looked, meaningfully, at her companion.

'Right then,' said the hostess, 'better get this tea on and then you can tell me what's what.'

When the tea pot was on the trivet in the middle of the table and the two friends each had a steaming cup, Molly spilled the beans.

'Mrs Hudson, I have to tell you that…Sherlock is not dead.' She looked at the lady opposite and waited for her to react.

'I thought not,' Mrs H replied, bluntly.

She realised she had surprised Molly.

'I did believe it at first, even when Mycroft told me to leave all Sherlock's things in the flat. I just thought he couldn't cope with dealing with them straight away – too painful, you know. Then, when it went on and he was still paying the rent, I started to wonder. But it was when you told us about Sherlock being William's dad, that's when the penny dropt,' she said.

'But how?' asked Molly.

'When John and Mary were bringing me back home, John told us what you told him about William being two weeks late. Now, I know John is a doctor and everything, but he's not had much to do with babies so he probably didn't think anything of it. But I've seen babies who've been born two weeks late and they look terrible. They look like they've been in the bath too long. Their skin is all wrinkly and it flakes off and, quite often, their hair falls out, too. It grows back, of course. Believe me, they don't look all smooth and bonny like little William did, so I knew that something wasn't right.'

She concluded her explanation and sat back, giving Molly a knowing look. Molly was impressed.

'So, from that, you worked out that Sherlock was not dead?' Molly smiled, shaking her head in awe.

'Well, I figured if he was dead he certainly hadn't died when we thought he did - the day he jumped off the hospital roof. But then time went by and Mycroft kept coming over, now and again, so one day I asked him if he would like me to sort out Sherlock's things – y'know, pack them up, take them to the charity shop – but, no! He was adamant that everything stay as it was.

After a year of this, I knew that the only possible reason could be that Sherlock would, one day, be coming back. So, that's when I started taking proper care of the place. I lit the fire on cold days, changed the bed linen every week, made sure there was always fresh milk in the fridge and bread in the bread bin, kept it nice and clean.'

'Did Mycroft know you were doing this?' Molly asked.

'Oh, yes, I'm sure he noticed but he never said a word.'

'So do you think he knows that you know Sherlock is alive?

'I'm sure he does but he knows I would never say anything. You see, if Sherlock wanted people to think he was dead, he must have had a darned good reason and that's good enough for me,' she concluded.

'Mrs Hudson, you are amazing! You worked all that out!' Molly was impressed.

'Look, dear, you know what they say about how people start to look like their dogs? Well, I suppose if you hang around Sherlock Holmes for long enough, some of him rubs off on you, if you know what I mean.'

'I think I do,' said Molly with a smile.

'Alright, then, that's the explanations over with. Now, what's this huge favour you want to ask me?' urged Mrs H.

'I have to tell John and Greg Lestrade that Sherlock is alive and that he's back. And I would really appreciate your help.'

Mrs Hudson pursed her lips, giving this request due consideration, then put her hands flat on the table and pushed herself up from her chair.

'Right,' she said, 'I'd better put the kettle back on. This is definitely a two-pot problem!'

ooOoo

With the second pot of tea steeping on the trivet, and the biscuit tin open between the two women, they got down to business. Molly explained her idea of gathering them all at 221B. Mrs Hudson looked rather dubious.

'That might be difficult,' she said. 'You know, when Sherlock jumped, John took it very bad. I've never seen a man take on so. He blamed himself, you see. He blamed himself for leaving him alone, when he thought I was hurt, and then for not being able to talk him down, when he was up on the roof.

I used to hear him, upstairs in the night. Breaking his heart, he was. And I couldn't go up to him. I mean, a man has his pride, hasn't he? He doesn't want a woman seeing him in that state. No, he does not. So, to be honest, I was grateful when he moved out, because I couldn't bear to listen to him and not be able to do anything about it. He's not been back inside this house since the day he left. I don't think you'll get him back in here, not even in my flat. You definitely won't get him to go upstairs.'

Molly hadn't even considered this possibility. She thought they had the perfect race plan, but now the horse had fallen at the first hurdle. She considered the matter for a moment or two then asked Mrs Hudson if she had any ideas.

'We need somewhere private but neutral. Also, we need to be prepared for John to bolt. He is the bolting sort. Whenever him and Sherlock used to have arguments – and, believe me, they had more than a few – John would always walk out. It was his safety valve, which was lucky, really, because otherwise I think they would have come to blows! Anyway, he would go out and have a walk around, Sherlock would sulk for a while and then get into some experiment or other so that, by the time John came back, the whole thing was forgotten and they'd be fine and dandy again.'

Molly was intrigued by this rare insight into the relationship between these two men. She could see that Mrs Hudson was quite right in her analysis of the situation but where to find a private but neutral venue, with minimal opportunities to bolt?

'What do you mean by neutral?' Molly asked.

'Well, this meeting is going to be very hard for John, very upsetting. He will probably associate it with the place where it happens for ever, so he probably won't ever want to go back there again. So it needs to be somewhere he is unlikely to need to go to again, anyway.'

Molly was astonished at the depth of understanding Mrs Hudson had of the inner workings of John's mind. Sherlock had been so right about her. There was much more to Mrs H than met the eye.

Over the next half hour, the two women worked out the 'how', the 'who' and the 'when' of the general plan for the big reveal but, try as they might, they could not come up with a venue to fit the bill. The 'where' would have to wait until inspiration struck. However, they were pretty proud of their afternoon's work and celebrated with a small sherry, before Molly had to leave to collect William from the crèche.

ooOoo

Later that evening, Molly was in the kitchen, cooking supper as usual, when her mobile rang with Mycroft's theme. She picked up the phone and asked,

'Which one of you is it this time?'

'Not the kleptomaniac escapologist,' Mycroft's voice remarked, dryly. 'Hello, Molly. I was wondering whether it might be convenient for me to call on you and William.'

'When have you ever needed permission to come and see us?' Molly asked.

'Well, circumstances have altered now, have they not,' he replied.

'Mycroft, just because Sherlock is back doesn't mean you're not William's uncle. I wondered why we hadn't seen you for more than a week. William's been asking where you are. Get your sorry arse over here, Mycroft Holmes!' she exclaimed and shut off the phone.

Within minutes, the entry phone sounded and she buzzed Mycroft in. He came through to the sitting room and was immediately set upon by William. He swung the little chap up into the air and plonked him on his shoulders, then began cantering round the sitting room and kitchen, to squeals of delight from his favourite – in deed his only – nephew. Later, after supper and bath time, William was adamant that 'Uncle Mytoff' should read his bedtime story and he chose 'Whistle for Willy', because he loved the way Mycroft did all the funny accents.

Once William was settled for the night, Mycroft returned to the sitting room and was handed a large glass of Merlot by Molly.

'Your reward for services above and beyond,' she informed him. 'I'm really glad you've come this evening. I need your advice.'

Mycroft listened intently as Molly related the details of the conversation she had had with Mrs Hudson, that afternoon

'So the problem I have is where could this meeting take place? Any ideas would be really appreciated.'

Mycroft sipped his wine, mulling over the problem and, with a little shrug, declared,

'Well, it will have to be my house, in Hertfordshire.'

Molly didn't understand.

'It fits all the criteria,' Mycroft explained. 'It's secure – very secure – set in several hundred acres of parkland. If John 'bolts', as Mrs Hudson so quaintly puts it, he can't go far and we'll be able to keep tabs on him. It's private, of course, and it's neutral – John need never set foot in there again. Perfect. Now, when were you thinking of holding this gathering?'

Molly should not have been so astounded at how quickly Mycroft had assimilated all the facts and come up with the perfect solution. After all, wasn't that what he did best?

'I was thinking this Saturday. Sherlock will have finished his debriefing so he could even, perhaps, be the surprise guest, once everyone has been brought up to speed,' she suggested. To her disappointment, Mycroft did not seem so optimistic.

'I wouldn't bank on Sherlock having completed his debriefing by Saturday,' he warned. 'Being in 'deep cover' is the most intense form of combat. One must completely subvert one's personality, adopt another persona and inhabit it completely, so one becomes that person, like a form of voluntary schizophrenia. It's not an easy task to divest one's mind of such a second self but it's essential to utterly expunge the alter ego. Otherwise, it might reappear when one is least expecting it –with devastating consequences.'

Mycroft saw the concern in Molly's face and reached for her hand to squeeze it.

'Sherlock knew the risks when he undertook this mission. He knew that Moriarty's network must be completely destroyed, if his friends were ever to be truly safe again, and he knew he was the best man for the job. But he is also fully committed to this process. He's surprised me at the level of co-operation he's shown'

'I don't count his disappearing act the other night. I understand why he had to come and see you. It was necessary. He knew he couldn't engage fully with the debriefing when he had this other matter taking his attention from the task. He was much more on task after he spoke to you.'

Mycroft paused for thought and then went on.

'I would strongly advise him against jumping out of a cupboard, right after you drop the bomb. I think John, in particular, will need time to come to terms with the revelations, don't you?'

Molly felt so stupid. She had learned a lot in the last few minutes that had never crossed her mind before. How could she have imagined that it would all be so easy? The term 'debriefing' sounded so innocuous. She shuddered at the thought of the terrible ordeal Sherlock was enduring, right now, not to mention the last three years. Would this nightmare ever end? She wiped her hand across her forehead and sighed deeply.

'Don't punish yourself, Molly,' Mycroft scolded gently. 'This sort of situation is far beyond the scope of most people's experience, thank goodness! The reason why people like me and my brother do the things we do is so that ordinary people don't have to even think about them. It's called the natural order.'

Molly gave him a weak smile. She marvelled at how her opinion of Mycroft had changed so radically, once she really came to know him. He was actually a very thoughtful and caring man, but he could switch those feelings off in an instant, when necessary, and be as cold and ruthless as the task demanded. She was very glad he was now her friend.

'Right,' Mycroft declared, 'back to the business in hand. I will summon both John and Lestrade to my house on Saturday afternoon. I will not give a reason, so they are more likely to come – out of a sheer curiosity. And, once they're there, you and Mrs Hudson will carry out your mission and we will take it as it comes. If it means having to send the dogs out after John, so be it. And, whilst you are attending to your task, I rather hope you'll accept my offer to mind young William.'

'I'm sure William will be very happy with that arrangement,' Molly laughed.

ooOoo