Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock
Boys
Mrs. Hudson smiled to herself as she set steaming mugs of tea in front of her boys. She'd taken the first train back to London once she'd gotten word of Sherlock's return. Now, back in 221 B, listening as the consultant walked John and Lestrade through the crime, it felt like old times again.
"Veronica Adair started to notice patterns in the online poker games," Sherlock was saying. "The winnings of some players were too consistent. They were losing hands they should have won, while some of their wins were nearly impossible to pull off. Without cheating, that is."
"Moran had a backdoor," John said, nodding.
"He could see his opponent's cards, anticipate their moves, call when they were bluffing. He used several accounts and never won too much, trying to avoid suspicion, but Ronnie caught onto him all the same. She confronted him; he killed her."
"With an airgun," said Lestrade, still sounding incredulous.
"The same airgun he planned to use on me tonight," Sherlock said. "I knew he couldn't pass up the chance to kill me. I just didn't count on him seeing through my plan."
"It wasn't your best," John snorted.
"I experienced some complications," Sherlock admitted wryly. "Regardless, it's over with now."
Mrs. Hudson looked between her boys, both home once more. Yes, it was finally over.