Sherlock Holmes and Martha Hudson sat together at the front of the court room, waiting. It had taken some time, but after many phone calls, emails and, meetings, the prosecuting lawyer of the case 'Frank Hudson verse the State' had finally listened to what he had to say, which had of course been correct from the start.
'Mr. Holmes, your argument just doesn't make sense, please just leave me alone, I have a job to do!' The lawyer, Percy Williams had told him more than once, but Sherlock had never been one to give up so easily, especially with something as important to him as Mrs. Hudson's safety.
Together, they sat. Waiting, waiting to see Frank, for the trial to start for the day. The trial had been ongoing throughout the week, Frank was very good at telling lies and casting the blame onto others Sherlock noticed, and when he wanted to, he could seem innocent enough not to hurt a fly. Frank had convinced almost the entire jury that it hadn't been him who shot two drug dealers in the face, he claimed to have been on the other side of America at the time, shown by his receipts and several eye witnesses, though Frank had forgotten one important thing.
He hadn't thought to get rid of the security cameras in his hotel car park. No-one had thought to check the back-entrance. They had checked the lobby, seen nothing, and assumed he was either at a different hotel, or was telling the truth. After examining Frank's hotel for a few minutes, well, seconds, Sherlock knew the he was guilty. Not from the cameras, from his room. The mess suggested he had been there and not left, as it was clear to see his clothes hadn't been re-packed into a case from the fact there was only one folding line on each of his shirts. There were wrappers in the bin which had to be from eight days ago, when the shooting took place.
Of course, Sherlock knew from experience that no-one would take his word in a criminal case due to folding lines and expiry dates, the lawyer had laughed at him, so he had to find hard evidence. That was the security tape.
Mrs. Hudson was completely silent, by Sherlock's side. Sherlock didn't think there had ever been a time she wasn't chatting away happily, not even minding if anyone was listening, but now, nothing. She was just sitting, waiting. Sherlock hadn't been too sure of human emotions for years, he had cut himself off from everything human after he essentially killed, well, he assumed she was dead, Sophie, but now, he guessed she was scared. That was the only logical explanation he could think of. She was about to see her abusive husband who was a convicted criminal. Though, Sherlock thought Mrs. Hudson didn't really need to be scared, she was safe here, her husband couldn't touch her, and if he even tried, Sherlock would protect her.
Finally, Frank brought out. He looked worse than either of them had ever seen him, his body was covered in week-old, yellow bruises, his back stooping, he was only looking at the floor, as if he was both ashamed and angry. He reached the witness stand and sat stiffly, his fists clenched and brow furrowed deep.
The trial began, Sherlock didn't really listen, it was all boring facts, and after a few minutes he had blocked everything out completely, and was away in his mind palace. Over the years, his palace had got bigger, better, and filled with more and more things, memories, facts, dates. Anything that could ever help him do anything. Sherlock's mind palace was the one place he felt safe, no-one could threaten him or hurt him. No-one beside him was even there, but that didn't mean he was lonely, only picky about who was worth spending time with.
Mrs. Hudson did listen to the trial, she listened very carefully. She needed to know what would happen to her husband. Percy Williams finally presented his, well, Sherlock's, case. At first, the jury looked at him sceptically, though after he showed them the security footage, no-one could doubt Frank's guilt, and he knew it. Martha did think she had ever seen Frank look so angry, it was terrifying. His whole face contorted, and turned a shade of purple. But it didn't matter, he couldn't do anything, or hurt anyone anymore.