Post Mortem

by Pawthorn

Warning: Major Spoilers and Canon Character Death-ish. A series of 221 word drabbles focusing on character's reactions to The Reichenbach Fall. No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

11. Brighter

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

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Brighter

The first time Mrs. Hudson heard familiar footsteps on the stair, she waited too long. She only glimpsed a sandy head ducking back onto the street by the time she left her rooms.

The second and third time, she waited, hoping he would knock at her door on his way up.

The fourth time, he did.

The fifth time, he came with that D.I. from the Yard. Mrs. Hudson hadn't thought she could forgive him after everything, but the grief in his eyes and the support in his actions and the gratitude in John's voice changed her mind.

The sixth, seventh, and eighth time there's laughter and tears as they look through the books and slides and microscopes. Then they go through the rest of the house, tidying and remembering. John and Mrs. Hudson are always there, and sometimes others come as well. Under the unused bed, they find a jar of human nail trimmings that glow. In the toilet tank, there's a tray of crystals that they decide to leave alone. The loose floorboard in the lower bedroom produces a stack of photos that it takes days to go through, and their eyes aren't exactly dry the whole time, but somehow they feel better after, more hopeful.

Now, she's lost track of her count.

One of her boys is back.