(6) Mrs. Hudson

The next envelope was given.

"Mrs. Hudson," Nero read the name.

"That is the one who may be dead," Sherlock said. "She was my landlady at 221B Baker Street in London."

"I hope she's still there," Nero noticed the address was written under the lady's name.

"I'm not sure if she still has those flats," Sherlock said. "But you might want to see the area I used to live in."

"I might look into it," Nero nodded. He saw the pile was now down to just one more.

Nero found himself once more on Baker Street in front of the apartment building. He went up the few steps & rang the bell. Rosie opened the door a few minutes later. "I remember you. Nero, right?"

"Yeah," Nero nodded.

"Are you looking for a flat to rent?"

"What? No."

"You want to visit the 221B flat, then?"

"Um, not really," said Nero. "I don't want to disturb whoever is there now."

"You really are from out of town," Rosie laughed at him. "221B is a tourist attraction now. No one's rented it in years. It's all been left exactly the way he left it. Grandma wanted it that way."

"Who's your Grandmother?" Nero had a feeling this might be his father's old landlady.

"Mrs. Hudson," Rosie said. "She used to own the place but made sure 221B was off the market."

"That's why I came," said Nero. "Wait, what?"

"The Consulting Detective's flat," said Rosie. "Sherlock Holmes. It's a tourist attraction now. Grandma's orders. My father doesn't like it much. I don't know why. But Papa is a strange fellow."

"I see," said Nero, suddenly wondering if her father was around. What would he do if he met the doctor now? "I'm looking for Mrs. Hudson, actually. Molly told me you know where she is?"

"You know Molly?" Rosie asked.

"From the morgue in Bart's Hospital," Nero said. "Wait, that room is open to the public?"

"Everything Detective Holmes left behind is still there," said Rosie. "I try to dust it now & then but I haven't moved anything. What do you want with my Grandma?"

"I have a letter for her, from someone she knows," Nero said. "Oh & yes, I would like a peek at it."

"I thought you would," Rosie laughed at him & led him up the stairs. "But don't touch anything! It's to be as he left it."

Nero had no idea how to react to some stranger telling him not to touch his own father's things, but before he could think about it, he found himself in the flat of his father. "Whoa!" He felt as if he walked into his own home. He recognized his father everywhere. An old long black coat hanging on the hook. A rolled up bed sheet tossed over the couch. His hand writing on countless notes on the wall. Various crimes he had worked on. He saw an empty stand for music sheets near the window, dust webs hanging from it. He supposed that the music stand was Doctor Watson's since he had never seen his father near any instruments.

He went downstairs, stumbled into Rosie's flat & dropped into a chair. Rosie offered him a cup of tea. "I've never had this reaction before. Are you ok?"

Nero drank half the tea before answering. "That's got my Dad all over it. The bed sheet. The hand writing."

"I'm sorry, your Dad?"

Nero sheepishly smiled at her. "Yup. This past year has been crazy for me. I'm finding out so much about both my parents I never knew."

"Sherlock Holmes was your father?" Rosie exclaimed. "Well, I've definitely never had anyone make that claim before. I'm not sure how it could happen either since he's dead."

"Nope, actually he isn't & neither is my mother," said Nero, finishing the tea. "That's why I'm here looking for Mrs. Hudson. The letter is from my Dad." He held up the envelope marked for Mrs. Hudson.

Rosie snatched it. "I'm sorry but if your Dad really is alive, he is in a lot of trouble."

"Eh!" Nero shrugged. "He knows. That's why he is never coming back to England. But he wanted me to let his friends & family know he's alright."

"Why now? After all these years?"

"They waited for me to finish high-school," said Nero. "My eighteenth birthday."

"I'm calling Grandma," Rosie all but snarled. "She'll sort this out!"

"Okey dokey," Nero sat back & waited.

"Grandma? Can you come to the flats, please? There's a man here & I need help!"

There was a long moment of silence. "Is it Sherlock? He's done this before, you know."

"Nope, it's worse. Please hurry!"

"Is she coming here, then?" Nero asked when Rosie had closed the call.

"She'll be here in forty five minutes," said Rosie.

"Why don't we get something to eat, downstairs?" Nero said. "That way she can avoid stairs. Dad said she's in her nineties."

"Fine," Rosie only agreed to spare Mrs. Hudson's hip.

They took the same table Nero was at the first time he was here. Nero glanced at the great yellow envelope still in Rosie's clutches. "I've been here for almost a week now," he began. "I've met Sherrinford & Enola Holmes. Lestrade & his wife. Found Molly yesterday. She told me about you & that you knew how to find the last two people my Dad wants me to meet. You can confirm all this with Molly."

"I will," Rosie began making another call. She told Molly all about Nero.

"It's true," said Molly. "Can I speak to him, please?"

"Uh sure," Rosie held the mobile out to him.

"Nero?"

"Hi Molly."

"Don't mention her father just yet," Molly said. "Just meet up with her Grandmother, then get Rosie to call me back."

"Alright," Nero said. "She showed me Dad's apartment."

Molly took a moment to catch up. Apartment wasn't exactly British. "I've been in there when your Dad lived there."

"It's a bit strange just seeing everything there & being told not to touch your own Dad's things," said Nero, sending a wicked grin at Rosie. She stuck up two fingers in a V-shape, which is a very rude gesture in Britain. Fortunately, Nero understood it just fine. "Dad told me never to do that to a lady, so I will let you get off." He turned away, snickering & ignoring Rosie's gaping glare before saying to Molly, "It's like he never left, but all the same, he is gone."

"Give me back to Rosie," said Molly. Nero passed the cell phone back.

"This is really weird," said Rosie. "I've never had a strange visitor claim to be related to Sherlock Holmes."

"Rosie? It's going to get a lot more weird soon," said Molly. "You guys just take care of your Grandma, for now. Call me later. We need to meet up."

"Ok," Rosie hung up. "So you know that one, do you?"

"Both my parents are British," Nero was still grinning. "I know it just fine. Although, I never understood why until recently."

"I see," Rosie sighed, still put out that he had known what she meant. "So Nero, who is this other person you need to see?"

"Other person?"

"You said I can find the last two people your Dad wants you to meet," Rosie said. "Grandma is one, obviously. So who's the other?"

"Oh, Molly told me not to tell you right now," said Nero. "You're supposed to call her back after your Grandmother gets here."

Rosie nodded her head once. "She told me something similar." She refilled her coffee. "Mrs. Hudson isn't really my Grandmother. We're not related, but she acts like it."

"Dad said the same thing," Nero began. "If I had grown up here, Mrs. Hudson would have been like a Grandmother to me. I'm, uh, I'm kind of jealous of you, now."

Rosie laughed. "Sorry you didn't get to grow up here," she began. "She had a lot of stories of Sherl—I mean, of your Dad." She looked around as a door opened & the cab driver pushed a wheel chair with Mrs. Hudson sitting in it through & brought her to the table. He refused any payment, saying his car was free for seniors & headed back out the door.

Mrs. Hudson looked right at Nero. "You look so much like Sherlock."

"He is my father," Nero said. "Irene is my mother. I got my hair from her."

"I met the Woman once," Mrs. Hudson said. "She was in that flat. 221B."

"Dad has something for you, but Rosie kind of stole it away," Nero flicked his brow at her. Rosie put the envelope in Mrs. Hudson's lap. Nero noticed that this one was thicker than the others.

Mrs. Hudson put on her glasses & then opened the envelope. She pulled out more papers in hers than the others & Nero suddenly understood why. It was all large print for her! She took almost half an hour to read it. Finally, she laid the papers on the table before her.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Hudson fussed with her glasses for a moment. "Greg was right all along. Sherlock, the poor boy! But I can see why. I'm not surprised he is not dead. After all, he has done this to us before. But at least he could come back, then. Now he can't. Whatever will we tell John?"

"John?" Rosie asked curiously.

"Your dear father, Rosie," Mrs. Hudson said.

"What does Papa have to do with anything?"

Mrs. Hudson sighed. "He is Sherlock's sidekick. I never mentioned a name since your father has forbidden us to talk to him about Sherlock."

"Forbid ... why?"

"Aww the boys are fighting again," Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

Rosie stared at her, then glared at Nero. "My father is that last one, isn't he?"

Nero clicked his tongue & looked away. "Yeah. Might be."

"Papa knew Sherlock Holmes, personally?" Rosie gasped. "And he never told me?"

"It was too hard for him," Mrs. Hudson said. "I've told you all about Sherlock. You know he pretended to kill himself many years ago to save his friends. I was one of the three with a sniper to my head. Greg was another one. The third one was your father!"

"What?" Rose put her hands to her face.

"But it really affected your father who thought Sherlock was dead for real," Mrs. Hudson went on. "When Sherlock finally came back two years later, poor John beat him to a pulp THREE times! That I know of, anyway. John was really upset at the loss. I mean, he was glad Sherlock came back, but he had mourned him for so long, first. It was shocking. Now this dismal business that has kept Sherlock away from us," Mrs. Hudson lamented. "I really don't know what to do."

"Call Molly!" Nero declared. "Right now! She wants you to call her now, remember?"

"Right," Rosie grabbed her mobile.

"We're ready," said Molly when she answered. "We're almost there. We'll go see him, together."

"Who's with you?" Rosie asked.

"We all are," said Molly. "Your father is going to need some help."

A limo pulled into Baker Street a few moments later. Sherrinford was the first out & began rearranging a few things. Mrs. Hudson held her letter & looked over it. She called the number.

Sherlock stood up quickly as the phone rang. "I did not expect him to call." He picked it up & pressed the speaker button while Irene waited with bated breath. "Hello?"

"Ohh! Sherlock! Is that really you?"

Sherlock thought for a moment. "I did not expect you to call, either!"

"I just got your letter," Mrs. Hudson said. "I had a feeling you weren't dead. You've done this before."

"But we can't come back this time."

"I know," said Mrs. Hudson. "You have a fine boy, Sherlock. But I'm glad he got his mother's hair. She's prettier."

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock complained, earning laughter from her & Irene. "What is happening now?" He asked after they shut up.

Mrs. Hudson took a long time to answer. "We are going to see John."

"You are going with Nero?"

"Oh honey," Mrs. Hudson was nearly in tears. "We all are. Sherrinford sent the limo. Enola's with him. Greg & Kate. Molly & Rosie, too. Sherrinford is setting up the seat for me. I'm in a wheel chair now, you see. My hip gave out a long time ago."

"A wheel chair?" Sherlock mused. "So you can not be in the flats any more."

"Not unless someone carries me up."

"Marie*," Sherrinford came to her. "I can put you in now."

"Oh Sherry," Mrs. Hudson laughed as he picked her up & placed her in the back seat of the limo. He folded up the chair & put it in the boot. "We are going to see John, now," she informed Sherlock.

Sherlock sat down, hands steepled under chin. "Ok."

*I have looked around for a first name for Mrs. Hudson. While not yet appearing in any novels by any of the four (I think it's four) authors, Marie seems to be the accepted fandom first name for her.