pipmer1

Title: Five Times Sherlock Didn't Have a Heart, and One Time He Did, Part 1 of 6
Author: PipMer
Rating: PG
Characters: Sherlock, John, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Original Characters, Harry Watson
Genre: Friendship, angst, hurt/comfort
WordCount: 959 this part
Warnings: A spot of violence in one part, minor character death in one part
Disclaimer: I don't own, no money is being made from this.
Summary: What the title says

A/N: Chapters don't follow any sort of linear timeline.

Chapter Summary: Sherlock 'helps out' Mrs. Hudson, not out of the kindness of his heart, but because he's bored and needs the distraction. He ends up being more than a little cruel. Although everything does work out alright in the end.

Chapter 1: Mrs. Hudson

Sherlock scowled at the people filtering in and out of the common area of the centre. Visitation day was always so dull, perhaps because nobody bothered to visit him. Not that he would want them to, mind; the only person who would ever bother doing so would be Mycroft, and Sherlock knew that if he were to lay eyes on his brother right now, he would probably commit fratricide. His parents were in England, and were too busy to bother with travelling to America in order to visit a son who had been arrested three times for possession and showed no signs of giving up his addiction. Honestly, what Mycroft thought he was accomplishing by forcing him into rehab in Tampa, of all places, he really didn’t know. Sherlock was pretty sure it had to do with maintaining an iron fist of control over his little brother, and also probably with paying Sherlock back for telling his fiancée about the one gay experience he had had at university.

Sherlock sighed, curling in on himself in the well-worn armchair, tugging his ratty dressing gown around his body as if armouring himself against his environment. Normally so fastidious in his appearance, he had rebelled in the only way he knew how since being admitted, by ignoring the dress code for the public areas of the facility. No one had yet called him on it, probably because of the enormous amount of family money being funnelled here for the duration of his ‘treatment’. Sherlock didn’t understand what result Mycroft was hoping for. He had already been through two treatment programmes, one in London and one in Glasgow; he had relapsed both times within a week. What was the definition of insanity, again?

Sherlock’s eyes restlessly scanned the room, picking out the most interesting people and silently deducing their life stories. He caught sight of an elderly lady (early to mid-sixties) who was timidly making her way towards a listless young lady (being treated for alcoholism) that was sitting by the window. The young woman’s unkempt dirty-blonde hair was plastered to her forehead; her lifeless eyes met those of the older woman (mother, obviously) as the latter sat on the sofa next to her and gently enfolded her daughter’s hands within her own.

Narrowing his eyes, Sherlock intensified his gaze on the mother as more details made themselves known, obvious to anyone paying attention. Financially strapped from the look of her clothing, sliding her wedding ring up and down her finger as if unsure whether she wanted to keep it on or remove it, so her husband had been absent – no, incarcerated – for at least the past few months. Oh, this was getting rather fun!

Sherlock jumped up excitedly, whipping his dressing gown around himself, and strode over to the two women. He stopped a foot in front of them, crossed his arms and stared. Two pair of alarmed eyes darted to his face and froze at his penetrating grey gaze.

“Can… I help you?” the older woman asked haltingly.

“Yes. Your husband, what is he in for?”

“Excuse me?” came the indignant squawk.

He sighed. “Your husband. What is he awaiting trial for?”

The woman swallowed. “How did you know - ?”

Sherlock waved his hand. “Just answer the question, please? What has your husband been accused of?”

“He – he was arrested for armed robbery, but he’s innocent, he was framed – “

“Yes, I read something about that in the papers. Quite right, he is innocent of armed robbery. He is, however, guilty of first-degree murder.”

“What?? How dare you…”

He scoffed. “Oh please, how could you have lived with the man for over thirty years and not known what he was capable of?“

The young woman gave her mother a bewildered look. Edith Hudson patted her daughter’s hand in reassurance before she stiffly pulled herself to her feet. She drew herself up to her full five – foot three inch height and glared up at Sherlock. “Young man, I don’t know who you think you are, but my Earl would never hurt a fly, let alone murder someone!”

Sherlock sniffed. “What must it be like inside your tiny little minds, missing all of the details that don’t suit your preconceived, sentimental notions? Once I get my hands on the evidence, it’ll take all of a couple of hours to convince the DA to go for the death penalty…”

Mrs. Hudson’s face immediately took on the most stormy expression Sherlock had ever had directed his way. He involuntarily took a step back. She stabbed a bony finger in his face. “You stay away from my family. Don’t you dare stick your nose into our affairs, it’s none of your business…”

Sherlock smiled tightly as he recovered his poise. “Not your affairs, obviously, but your husband’s had three in the past year and a half…”

“Stop it!” she shrieked, her distress mobilising two members of the staff into making their way warily towards them.

“Ma’am, is everything alright?” a large burly attendant asked, frowning as he approached Sherlock.

“No, everything is not alright! This gentleman is harassing me, please make him leave me alone!”

“Oh, fine!” Sherlock snapped, hands raised in surrender as he backed away. “I’m leaving. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, he shrugged off the orderlies’ attempts at restraint, and stalked out of the area towards his own room.

Sherlock, of course, disregarded Mrs. Hudson’s warning. As soon as he was released from the centre, he made it his mission to gather the evidence needed to convict Earl Orville Hudson of the rape and murder of a sixteen –year old girl. Eighteen months later, the man was put to death by lethal injection.

Five years after that, Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock were as close as a mother and son, and Sherlock was introducing her to John Watson as someone who owed him a favour.

Chapter 2