Fortunately, it was relatively quick and completely painless.
Mrs. Hudson had mentioned two days earlier that she hadn't been feeling well and John was quick to grab his medical bag and gently usher their beloved landlady back to her flat.
Once Mrs. Hudson was seated comfortably in her sitting room, John pulled out his stethoscope and gave a listen. What he heard wasn't great – there was some wheezing when she breathed and her heart rate was erratic. There was some good news, though, in that there was no fever, no signs of any infection.
"Mrs. Hudson … Martha … I'm not sure …," stuttered John as he fiddled with the stethoscope now held loosely in his hands. But he knew; old age was finally catching up with her.
"John, don't try to sugar-coat it," interrupted Mrs. Hudson. "I'm 84, for goodness' sake! You can't stop the passing of time and I truly believe this is my time," she continued with a wry smile. "But I have one request. No hospital; just let me go here, at home, with my boys at my side."
Two days later, with John and Sherlock at her side, Mrs. Hudson was gone.
The two men sat with tears streaming. It would get easier with time, but right now Mrs. Hudson's boys were bruised and broken.