A Sherlock Short: Don't cry, Mrs HudsonAnother box was packed, and Mrs Hudson closed the lid. She recalled the times when the chemistry set inside had triggered the fire alarm, at five in the morning, and she'd had to try to placate the very angry neighbours, much to her dismay.A Sherlock Short: Don't cry, Mrs Hudson by ~Story-Heart
What she would give to have those days back, she wondered as she set the box amongst the others on the floor of the living room.
She was alone, as she almost always was lately; John had another appointment with his therapist, but even when he had no prior engagements, he avoided 221B Baker Street like the plague.
The woman looked around at the remaining items in the flat. Most of it had been packed away, loaded into the boxes scattered around her feet, but Mrs Hudson's eyes caught sight of something on the other side of the room that she had missed.
Her throat constricted with suppressed grief as she took in the sight of Sherlock's violin, sitting forlornly on the surface of the mantelpiece, as though waiting. Mrs Hudson looked at the instrument for