After The Reichenbach Fall

CHAPTER 4

John is now sitting at Mrs Hudson's kitchen table.

Mrs. Hudson firmly slams down at the table a small tray, containing a cup and saucer, and a jug of milk. She then goes across the room to pick up a plate of biscuits, which she equally loudly slams down onto the table.

John is just silently watches her while she picks up a sugar bowl and thumps that onto the table.

She hesitates, then points at the sugar bowl. "Oh no - you don't take it, do you?" She asked not so nicely.

"No." He shook his head.

"You forget a little thing like that." She said pointing at the sugar.

"Yes."

"You forget lots of little things, it seems."

"Uh-huh." is all John can say.

Mrs H purposely runs her finger between her nose and her upper lip while looking at him, "Not sure about that."

John reaches up to touch his moustache. "Ages you." She said.

"Just trying it out." He awkwardly said.

"Well, it ages you."

"Look ..." He said as scratch his eyebrows but she cut him off. "I'm not your mother. I've no right to expect it ..." she said.

"No ..." John shook his head.

"... but just one phone call, John." Her anger dissipates and she looks upset. "Just one phone call would have done."

"I know." He said, the guilt eating him.

"After all we went through."

"Yes. I am sorry." He said now looking at her in the eyes.

She sits down at the chair opposite him, "Look, I understand how difficult it was for you after ... after ..." She stops, shaking her head sadly.

It's hard for her too. She took care of (y/n) like her own child and she cares alot for Sherlock too.

"I just let it slide, Mrs Hudson. I let it all slide. And it just got harder and harder to pick up the phone somehow." John said and then sighs as he look away, then back at her again "D'you know what I mean?"

After a moment, Mrs Hudson sighs too and reaches out to put her hand on his arm, and be immediately puts his hand over hers. Finally understanding each other.
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Sherlock's hair is now dry and curly and is almost dressed. He tuck his shirt into his trousers while he look at himself in a large mirror on the wall.

"I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that quite clear?" Mycroft said.

"What do you think of this shirt?" Sherlock asked, not minding Mycroft's question.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft said, exasperated.

"I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft. Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in - feel every quiver of its beating heart." Sherlock said, not even looking at his brother.

"One of our men died getting this information. All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there's going to be a terror strike on London - a big one." Anthea said.

"And what about John Watson?" Sherlock asked whilst putting on his jacket.

"John?" Mycroft said.

"Mmm. Have you seen him?" Sherlock mumbled.

"Oh, yes - we meet up every Friday for fish and chips(!)" He said sarcastically.

Mycroft gestures to Anthea, and hands Sherlock a folder.

"I've kept a weather eye on him, of course." Mycroft added.

Sherlock opens the file: there are two black and white surveillance photos of John and a printed report underneath.

"You haven't been in touch at all, to prepare him?" Mycroft asked.

"No." Sherlock answered distractedly as he look at the picture of John with his ridiculous moustache.

"Well, we'll have to get rid of that."

"We?" Mycroft said.

"He looks ancient. I can't be seen to be wandering around with an old man." Sherlock said, placing the file on the table.