Fading out
The reptile who kept him together
Mrs. Hudson
She was busy; her whole apartment is being renovated and repaired. The explosion was in one area, but little cracks appeared all over the house, and since Mycroft is paying she decided to fix everything, a whole remodelling, the step outside to the bins was needing a coat of paint, so she put that on the list, oh new bins too, recycling is the new crave according to the telly.
The window in the kitchen was cracked from years ago, so that might as well be fixed. Yes, he can pay. Always meddling around, trying to squeeze him into his brother's life.
Today was a good day, the men fixed a lot in one day, and soon the place would be brand spanking new. She should probably thank him the next time she sees him, not only for the repairs, but saving her life as well. She was quite impressed with how quickly Mycroft could move, granted at the moment she was too upset about the explosion and about her boys to pay attention to him. The last time she properly spoke to him, she called him a reptile and chased her out of her house. Then she so rudely offered him tea, just to irritate him, well he was irritating to her, meddling in her boys life. Of course he had no idea why Sherlock would relapse, it was John, it would always be John, but no, he couldn't see, the reptile doesn't understand human emotions or the workings of the heart.
The doorbell broke through her reverie and she went to open the door, there's no way it could be a client this time of day.
"Hello?" She opened the door to see the familiar black car, but her resentment was short lived to see that it wasn't him, it was Lady Smallwood. She looked over her shoulder to see the door close and frowned, that woman waiting inside the car; it was the one always following Mycroft. Lady Smallwood addressed her in a clipped tone.
"Good evening Mrs Hudson, is Sherlock here?"
She nodded and without waiting for an invitation she stepped in passed her and into the foyer. Something was wrong, something seriously is wrong, closing the door she moved up the stairs, going as fast as her hips allowed her, Lady Smallwood following her softly. Her boys was in the living room, Rosie was sleeping. John looked at her as she entered and she saw the smile falter on his lips. Before either could say anything Sherlock broke the silence with a loud cry. She jumped in shock at his loud bellowing voice. John tried to tell him to be quiet, Rosie is sleeping but Sherlock ignored him and walked towards Lady Smallwood.
The look in his eyes, the pain on his face was so evident that Mrs Hudson took a step back, her hands covering her mouth as it fell open, what could hurt her boy so much? She watch as Sherlock stepped closer to Lady Smallwood and she would've stepped back in fear but Lady Smallwood didn't move, not an inch. He repeated the declaration of unbelief when he stormed to his room, the door slamming behind him. She looks at Lady Smallwood then back to John, he was just as confused and perplexed as she was. She saw him take his military position before turning talking.
"What happened?" Bloody good question, ask her John.
"Mycroft Holmes died today." If she was holding a cup, it would've shattered to the floor, just like her sanity in that moment. Dead? That is impossible. Trying to get her mouth to work she turned to Lady Smallwood, who ignored them both before turning around and walking out. Finding her legs, Mrs Hudson followed her down at the door she stopped her.
"What do you mean? He is Mycroft Holmes, the man who doesn't feel." Lady Smallwood eyes flashed in anger.
"Mycroft Holmes was more feeling in his entire life, than you are in this moment. He was killed this afternoon by a car bomb, and the man who didn't feel, felt enough when he paid for the renovations on this flat multiple times, he felt enough when he kept you from being arrested for your reckless driving in a suburb, he felt enough to risk his life to save yours from an explosion, and he damn well felt enough when you insulted and belittled him every opportunity you could find. Now excuse me." Mrs Hudson stared at her as she turned around and walked out, closing the door behind her. She didn't know for how long she stood there in the hallway, no one has ever spoken to her like that, not in many, many years, yet it was what she needed to hear. There was silence upstairs, Sherlock hasn't left his room. She slowly turned around and went to her room her mind trying to process what happened.
The next morning she helped John with Rosie, she made breakfast while he fed her, Sherlock refused to eat, he refused to look at either of them. He didn't slept last night, not if the dark circles under his eyes were made by make-up. His eyes were red rimmed and she realised the last time he looked like that, was when he confronted Mary and John in here, when he was shot in the chest. He sat there working the case, helping his friends while slowly going into cardiac arrest. She closed her eyes, he looked like his heart was about to break, in fact it broke last night. A small part of her wished he would look at her, at them but another part wants him not to look at her at all. This young man lost his brother, and the pain and grief is so clear that she can only bow her head in shame, how did they missed the bond between them? Lady Smallwood was right, he always covered for them, not just Sherlock but for her as well, he saved her life and she didn't even say thank you. She chased him out calling him a reptile and he still saved her life.
How are they going to recover from this?