Open the Door and Let 'Em In

Martha Hudson sat at her small kitchen table, staring blankly at the wall across from her. The cup of Earl Grey she had poured sat untouched, cold and undrinkable now. She was still wearing the black outfit she had worn to the cemetery and her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with sorrow.

Oh, Sherlock, she whispered aloud. What did you do this time? Never again would she hear frantic screeching being pulled from the violin; never again would she hear "Mrs. Hudson!" yelled down the stairs in the particular tone of voice he used when he wanted tea; never again would she be greeted by a whirlwind in a Belstaff coat, rushing in or out of 221B with eyes aglow.

As she sat quietly, spinning the teacup round and round on its saucer, Mrs. Hudson couldn't help but think back to a time many years before - to the time she first met Sherlock Holmes.

The Hudsons were living in Florida, and Martha had no illusions as to the type of life that Frank was leading. After all, she was helping him out with the accounting end of his business. Drugs were a serious, and lucrative, venture. What she didn't know was that, along with the drugs, Frank was becoming well known for his talents with a gun. Word on the street was that if you needed to remove someone from the equation, Frank Hudson was your man.

Martha could put up with the verbal abuse; to be honest, she gave as good as she got. She could even ignore his numerous mistresses. What she could not, and would not accept, was Frank's escalating violence towards everyone, especially herself. But what could she do? She was stuck in a loveless marriage in a foreign country and with no resources. She was afraid to leave for fear that Frank would find her, and there was no one she could call on for help.

Until one day, when a tall, painfully thin, very young and very well dressed man rang her doorbell and offered her salvation. Despite her first instinct to close the door in the man's face, Martha studied him for some moments and then, for some unknown reason, decided she could trust him. Martha opened her door and her heart to the young man, to Sherlock, and soon he became like a son to her.

By the time the trial was over, Frank was sentenced to death, Martha was being treated as the unwilling and innocent victim and she was free to return to England. Sherlock also told her of the hidden offshore accounts and explained that she would never have to work another day in her life, should she so choose. With a promise to Sherlock that should he ever find himself in need of a home all he had to do was ask, Martha Hudson brushed the dust of Florida off her feet and caught the first flight back to London.

Mrs. Hudson stood up from the table and turned to dump the scummy tea down the sink. As she washed the cup and rinsed out the teapot, Martha looked up at her ceiling, her mind now turning from her lost son to the one that, while still alive, was slowing dying. John had withdrawn into himself since Sherlock's death; he was pulling away from his work, from his friends … from her. He was still polite and kind, but there was a distance to him now and Martha did not know how to bridge that gap.

Yet, in spite of the anguish of the past weeks, Martha did not regret the decision she made long ago to trust the young man standing on her front stoop and offering her a future so different from the one she had feared was her lot.

It's amazing, she thought, how the simple act of answering the door changed my life forever.