Welcome to my third and final story in this particular Halloween trilogy - I hope you enjoy it :D

xXx

2pm, Sunday 30th October 2016

Greg grinned to himself as he climbed into his car outside 221B Baker Street.

He had just spent a pleasant hour or two chatting to Mrs Hudson, hearing all about her new tenants and sharing tea and remembrances. It gladdened his heart that the elderly lady had accepted the loss of her boys and moved on while keeping them alive in her memories.

But that wasn't why he was grinning….

Despite his belief in the visitations of the last two years, and the knowledge that as Halloween approached he knew he would honour John's request to leave a message at the duo's former home did not mean that Greg intended to become a laughing stock by asking the elderly landlady if he could leave a message for them in her unused basement flat.

No, he grinned again as the car moved smoothly away from the curb; that honour was all Mycrofts.

Two hours earlier…

"Oh it's so good to see you again Mr Lestrade!" Martha Hudson beamed, leaning in as the detective kissed her cheek in greeting.

"You too Mrs H, and its Greg, remember?"

A thin hand slapped his arm playfully.

"Of course I remember, I'm not senile yet you know."

Greg shook his head and smiled.

"Well if those two loons didn't send you batty who am I to accuse?" He followed her into her kitchen and watched while she made a pot of tea.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Carrying the tray of tea things into the living room Greg shuffled a little nervously.

"I have to have a reason to visit my favourite landlady?"

"Do I look like I fell off last year's Christmas tree Greg?" Martha scolded softly. "I may not be a genius like Sherlock was, but even I could see you had purpose written all over your face when you knocked on my door."

"There's no pulling the wool over your eyes is there?"

They laughed as Martha poured the tea and cut them both generous slices of her home-made cake. Once they were settled back in their seats, Greg cleared his throat and started to speak.

"I'm actually here on behalf of Sherlock's brother, Mycroft." He began. "We meet every year on the anniversary to talk about… well, you know."

The old lady nodded.

"Anyway, I think Mycroft it more affected by his brother's loss than he would like to admit." Greg leant forward earnestly. "He thinks it might be possible to communicate with Sherlock or John, in fact for a while now he's been talking to so called 'experts' in the field of paranormal phenomena…" Something inside the detective chuckled darkly at the picture he was painting of the Government man. "… and now he wants to try and communicate with Sherlock."

"Oh the poor man!" Mrs Hudson's eyes widened in shock, and then her expression turned thoughtful. "It's a shame he didn't consider his feelings for his brother while the poor boy was still alive – he did nothing but nag at him and try to bend him to his will."

The conversation moved on, rolling through such topics as the experiments in the kitchen and how quiet her new tenants are in comparison to the two lunatic who once lived above her, about Mrs Turner's 'married ones' and how Mrs Hudson was considering getting a cat to keep her company.

When he finally had to call time on his visit he left with lighter heart, and the knowledge that and envelope addressed 'Sherlock and John' was sitting on a dusty kitchen counter in 221C.