Guys, I have this headcannon that Sherlock is able to use the homeless network because he was, himself, homeless before Mrs. Hudson took him into 221B:
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He was most likely homeless by his own doing at 20, because it gave him access to bodies and places that the surface of london couldn’t reach. There he learned the streets of london and the unmapped tunnels. He used the homeless network to try to hide from Mycroft, but that’s also where he was introduced to drugs. Cocaine. Heroine. From there it spiraled out of control. Mycroft knew, but left him to fend for himself -milking it until the last possible minute to come to his aid.
Then one day Mrs hudson was walking down baker street and found Sherlock in a pathetic homeless-drug-addicted-state on the sidewalk. She remembered him as the same young homeless man whom she passed by a few weeks ago playing beautiful violin. It was nowhere to be seen now.
“Young man, what happend to your violin?”
“Sold It. Needed Money”
That’s when Mrs hudson notices the track marks on his arm. She shakes her head tutting as she sinks down to his level. She grabs his cheek. and examines him.
“Oh Dear…Listen now. I have a home for you. If you want it. You are such a bright young man. Seems a waste to see you here”
“Can’t afford it”
“My late husband. He would play the violin for me so often. When I passed by you a while back, Oh, It made me miss him so much. It’s been so lonely since he left…”
Mrs hudson mused as she wrapped her hands around Sherlock’s
“How about I let you live with me if you promise to play violin for me every day as payment.”
“I don’t have-“
“I have a violin that you can use. But you have be kind with it” Mrs hudson tried to pull sherlock to his feet but failed miserably. Sherlock forced himself to stand, towering over the old woman. Mrs. Hudson blushed a bit, he did look so much like her late husband when they met. She frowned upon noticing how skinny this homeless boy was.
“Come on then, lets get you home, you look like you havent had a good meal in ages.”
And Sherlock being sherlock would not really understand her gesture of compassion. Why would she reach out to a homeless junkie. Why, in barley knowing who he was offered him the unconditional love of a mother.
So Sherlock would just nod, and follow her home. home. He’s never really had one. He wouldn’t consider the house of his childhood a home. But now he was heading to a place, where this woman who picked up homeless men lived. She was offering him shelter from the streets of london, a bed and food. So that must be the difference between the two.
They didn’t walk far, Mrs. Hudson stopped in front of an apartment complex. 221B
“Well here we are then, It’s not much, but make yourself comfortable.”
Mrs hudson would lead him to what would become not just his room, but an entire living space. Sherlock would be at a loss for words as Mrs. Hudson went about making tea for the two. She had offered this to him for no charge at all. Mrs hudson would bring in some tea for sherlock, then leave and return with a dusty case, setting it before him. As sherlock slowly opened the case Mrs hudson noticeably wiped tears from her eyes.
“As long as you stay here. This Violin is yours. I shall let you have it.”
Sherlock could read the sentiment that Mrs. hudson would have with it. Why? why would she do this for anyone. why Sherlock.
“I don’t understand..this violin means alot to you. It was your husbands.” He would say.
“You don’t have to dear. It’s what I want. My husband and I. you see, we never had any children. Always wanted one, but I was unable. So when I saw you on the streets, my heart couldn’t take it. To think that such a fine young man like you…had no place to call home.”
Sherlock, would not know how to react or what to say. But if Mrs hudson wanted him to play violin for him every day. he would. Sherlock tuned the violin, and looked at Mrs, hudson. what type of song would her husband have played for her, most likely one to impress. A song of love, and joy, and gratitude, but most of all beauty. Sherlock smiled and began to play a song that would sing in pure gratitude: a piece by bach.
Mrs hudson was brought to tears, as she whispered her husbands name into the violins voice. When sherlock finished, he stood properly in his homeless clothes and took a bow. He would give her a private concert everyday.
Mrs hudson stood up and embraced Sherlock. Sherlock, smelling of the streets and shite of London and she hugged him regardless.
“Thank you dear. That was beautiful. That song…he always…”
Mrs hudson would cry into his shoulder. And sherlock would wrap an arm around her in comfort. Strange. He had barley met this woman, but already felt that he would destroy anything that attempted to harm her. He was demonstrating protectiveness for this frail old woman. Sherlock wanted to thank her, for her selfless actions.
“Thank you…for-“
“That’s what family is here for dear, we take care of each other.”
Family. So that’s what it was supposed to feel like. That was the difference between the emotion and the word.
He would keep this violin forever, He would play it everyday. And as long as it was in his hands He would be reminded that he had a family. and a home at 221B. Even if it was just Mrs hudson.
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Sherlock Homeless Network Headcannon
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