"But...but..." Mrs. Hudson drops her cup of tea in complete and utter shock. Some of the fragrant liquid stains John's favorite chair behind her. The fact doesn't even register in her mind as she stares at the ghost in front of her. He's even wearing the blue-gray suit, white shirt and yellow tie he'd worn to the trial in Florida.
The trial where the judge and jury had given him the death sentence.
"But you're dead, Andrew! The evidence...they--"
He smiled, but his eyes were icy cold. "Ah, your dear Sherlock insured it, didn't he? At least, that was what the authorities told both of you. I made one final request on that day, Margaret. And as you can see, they granted it."
Her legs gave out from under her and she collapsed into John's chair. She felt the dampness of the tea through her brand new blue dress. "We watched you die--"
"--just a little ruse to let you and Sherlock believe justice was done." He took a step towards her. "I have powerful friends now, Margaret, and they will help me take back what is mine."
She reached for the fire poker behind her, but he grabbed her wrist. Then he knelt in front of her, like he had when he had first proposed marriage to her, forty years ago, before it all went to Hell. He gently touched her cheek with the other hand.
"So, tell me, Margaret, how IS our young genius? I'm looking forward to seeing him--and his army doctor--for tea today."