~Sunday Afternoon, 11:30~
Sherlock was curled up in a chair beside John, his laptop resting on his knees. Occasionally, he glanced up at the heart monitor beside John, noting the BPM and its overall rhythmic beep. Mrs. Hudson had gone back to the flat only about an hour earlier, finally giving in to her exhaustion, yet promising her swift return.
Sherlock honestly hoped she would take her time.
There was a small knock on the door.
"Mr. Holmes?" It was Cora.
Sherlock closed his laptop and turned to face her.
"Formalities are overrated. Call me by my first name. We've been acquainted long enough."
Cora smiled softly and walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. She was wearing a short, black jacket with a thin, red scarf tied over her silver locket and paired with a pair of black skinny jeans and knee-high boots. Her short hair had obviously been hastily styled.
"Did you tell your mother?" Sherlock asked.
Cora nodded.
"Yeah."
"And?"
"She won't tell the police. But I'm to be out of the house by six tonight."
"Ah."
Cora bit her cheek and leaned against the back wall.
"I've been such an idiot," she said. "How could I have thought that I was actually making the situation better?"
Sherlock set his laptop on the bedside table and crossed his legs.
"You had your mother's best interests at heart."
Cora sniffed.
"That wasn't a good enough reason. Because of my own bloody sentimentality, my brother and my best friend are dead, I'm homeless, and my mother hates me."
"The latter is a bit of a stretch…" Sherlock said.
"I tried to kill her, Sherlock. Granted, to put her out of her misery, but that still doesn't change what it is."
Sherlock sighed.
"Normally I wouldn't be one to support the moronic actions of another human being, but with you I feel a different emotion. Sympathy. Perhaps it is the fact that I now have someone I care a great deal about, so I can more realistically imagine myself in your position." He slid his finger along the metal rail of the hospital bed. "Maybe I've taken a liking to you. Who knows?"
He stood up.
"My point is, don't dwell on the past. Whatever happened after you began poisoning your mother was out of your control; I can understand that. Accept it and carry on with your life."
Cora nodded and choked back a sob.
"Where do I start?"
Sherlock thought for a moment.
"If you'd be interested at the prospect of having a flatmate, I know a woman who might like to have you in her home."
"What's her name?"
Sherlock scribbled out a number on a slip of paper and handed it to her.
"Her name is Molly Hooper. Tell her it was me who referred you to her."
Cora smiled.
"Thanks."
Sherlock put his hands in his pockets.
"What did you tell the police?"
Cora slid the number in her purse.
"That the maid snapped and went insane."
Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, you didn't lie."
Cora smiled.
"At least I'm not all bad." She straightened up. "I suppose I ought to get going. Tell Doctor Watson to get well. And that I'm sorry."
Sherlock nodded at her.
"Take care of yourself."
"You too."
~Monday Morning, 10:00~
"Mrs. Hudson, I'm fine."
"There it is again. I'm beginning to see Sherlock's frustration with that word," the landlady scoffed. "Now stop acting like a baby and let me help you to your chair."
Sherlock chuckled.
"Be quiet," John said to the detective, without a hint of anger in his tone.
Mrs. Hudson plopped John down into his chair.
"There you are," she said. "Was that so bad?"
John blushed.
"I have my cane to help me, Mrs. H…"
"You do. And you have me as well," Mrs. Hudson smiled. She kissed him on his forehead. "I don't want you overexerting yourself, dear. You gave me quite a fright back at Genevieve's. I thought for sure that-" She bit her lip. "Well… you're recovering now. And that's all that matters. Would you care for some tea?" she asked.
"I think tea is very much a necessity, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said.
Mrs. Hudson smiled.
"I'll turn on the stove."
As she started into the kitchen, Sherlock cleared his throat. The landlady stopped in her tracks.
"Oh," she said as she understood the signal. "My stove."
And she hurried off downstairs.
"So," John said.
"So."
"You didn't tell me much about how the case turned out."
Sherlock sat down in his own chair and steepled his hands beneath his chin.
"Are you positive you'd like to hear it?"
John leaned back into the pillow on his chair and nodded.
"You didn't say anything to me about it in the hospital. So I want to hear it now. Besides, after being poisoned, I think I deserve to know why."
"Do you want an explanation or a summary?"
John thought for a minute.
"A summary would be nice."
Sherlock nodded.
"Alright. Due to Mrs. Williams's denial of her fatal breast cancer diagnosis and refusal to get treatment despite the pain she was in, Cora began slowly poisoning her with arsenic tablets to quicken the dying process and make the her mother's final moments less painful and sudden. Her brother Arthur, Monsieur Bleu, however, found out while he was shagging their cousin Elizabeth, Mademoiselle Rouge, and threatened to tell their mother about the poison if Cora said anything about Arthur's affair. I say affair because Arthur and the maid, Fiona, were in a relationship, unbeknownst to the entire family. Due to her lack of knowledge of this relationship, Cora felt as if she were safe to reveal to Fiona, her "best" and most likely only "friend" about the whole situation, as she needed to release that burden from her chest. Fiona decided to murder Arthur at the party a pose it as a suicide. Then we showed up and she, courtesy of knowing Cora's interests far too well, recognised us. So in order to slow me down, she poisoned you along with Arthur, giving Arthur a larger dose. When Arthur ran upstairs, he felt genuinely ill from the poison. In his weakened state, Fiona could easily sneak upstairs, choke him, and hang him from the banister; all a part of her original plan. But then the cook caught her. Now Fiona, thinking quickly, knew exactly how to snuff the woman out. She remembered the gun in Cora's bureau and used that, along with the pillow to silence the shot, to kill the cook. She locked the door and escaped out the window by throwing her shoes down first and then climbing down. She ran through the front door, shut it, and let out a scream. Of course I, having stupidly jumped to conclusions, overlooked the maid at first, not giving myself a chance to even once take a good look at the state of her clothes." He took a breath. "And there you have it."
John looked a bit overwhelmed.
"Wow."
"Mhm."
The doctor smirked.
"So I was right, then?"
"What?"
"The maid did it."
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"I suppose, in a sense, yes. You were correct."
John looked down at the floor.
"Cora, though…"
"Yes. I had suspected she was involved in such an activity."
John's eyes widened.
"Seriously? You didn't think to bring it up to me sooner?"
Sherlock shrugged.
"You told me not to say anything."
John squeezed his eyes shut.
"That's what you were going to say to me?"
Sherlock nodded.
"Fuck," John muttered. "I mean, you could have insisted..."
"Fiona screamed before I had the chance."
John snorted.
"You were too busy flirting with me."
Sherlock knitted his eyebrows.
"I wouldn't put it that way."
John grinned.
"I would."
They both sat there for a while.
"Sherlock," John said, "How distracted were you?"
"What do you mean?"
"When I was poisoned. Did that really affect you?"
Sherlock swallowed a hard lump in his throat.
"One could say I was… concerned. You could go as far as to say frightened."
John looked down at his feet.
"I don't… I don't really remember much. All I really can remember is a lot of sweat and pain. Did I cause you a lot of trouble?"
Sherlock frowned.
"You don't remember dying?"
John's face blanched.
"I thought I'd dreamt up the whole thing."
Sherlock's leg began nervously bobbing up and down.
"No." He swallowed again. "Your heart stopped."
John let out a breath.
"Jesus."
"You should also know that you saved my life."
John raised his eyebrow.
"Really?"
Sherlock laughed a bit.
"According to Mrs. Hudson, after I shouted for help, you were practically dragging yourself out the door. Doctor Lawrence had to help you down the hall. You stood in front of the door and shot Fiona right between the eyes."
John's jaw was hanging slightly open.
"Shit. Really?"
Sherlock smiled.
"Wait," John said. "She was about to shoot you?"
"You saved both Cora's and my life. Idiot."
"Hey, I'm glad I did," John said.
"What's happening with Cora?" he asked.
"She told her mother everything. She's been kicked out of the house."
John frowned.
"Oh."
"Yes, but I referred her to Molly."
"That's nice," John said. "We'll be seeing more of her, then?"
Sherlock nodded.
"I certainly hope so."
"That doesn't sound like you."
Sherlock shifted his eyes to the floor.
"There's something about her. I don't know, John. But…"
"You like her?"
Sherlock nodded.
"I suppose so, yes. She could prove to be a useful ally."
"The whole poisoning thing with her mother is just water under the bridge, then?"
"I can understand why she decided taking such a measure was necessary."
"Mercy," John said. "I get it. I mean, I don't agree with it, but I get it."
He yawned.
"Jesus, I'm tired."
Sherlock stood up from his chair.
"You've been through quite an ordeal, John. Of course you're tired."
"Would you be averse to putting on some crap telly?" John asked, a slight grin on his face. "Otter-man?"
"Of course not," Sherlock said with a smile of his own. "Hedgehog."