As Sherlock followed the octogenarian down to her ground floor flat, John closed the door and turned to Gary.
"What news?"
"We've found her." Gary spoke softly, sitting himself in the chair recently vacated by the other man.
"Any trouble?" John asked, sitting opposite his informant.
"Not that we couldn't deal with."
"How many?"
"Two. They won't cause any problems; they can't be traced back to us."
"Right, so tell me."
John listened as Gary related the events of the previous evening, taking in the details.
"And," the informant concluded. "She met with someone we know…. Sally Donovan."
Sherlock burst noisily into the silence that followed Gary's words, his face like thunder.
"That….. that woman…."
"Mrs Hudson."
"Yes, she told me I can't wear the kind of clothes I like to wear!"
John dismissed Gary, and once he had gone asked
"And that is?"
"Black jeans, designer tees and cardigans, designer jackets."
"And no doubt that is what Barrymore would have seen you wearing, found in your wardrobe?"
"Yes but…"
"Trust Martha Hudson, her late husband was always several steps on the wrong side of the law so she knows what she's doing."
"What that sweet little old lady?"
John laughed out loud.
"The very same." He sobered up a little. "Get some rest, tonight we're off to visit Fulham Broadway."