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newyearcntdownTitle While Mrs. Hudson's Away
Author/Artiststonepicnicking_okapi
Length/Size of work 700
Summary Mrs. Hudson leaves 221 Baker Street and returns to find a mess.
Rating Teen
Warnings Suggested sexual scene, nothing graphic
Other content notes Prompt: cold/flu
Fandom (optional) Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Pairing (optional Watson/Holmes
Beta (optional) None.
Disclaimer (mandatory only if not original work) I do no own Sherlock Holmes. This is for entertainment purposes.
“I’ll come, Marie.”
“Oh, no. I wasn’t—”
“I know you weren’t, but nevertheless, I’m offering to come and help you. You can’t take care of all those sick lodgers by yourself. Influenza is a scourge—and a lot of work!”
“A few of them have gone to their families for Christmas, but of course those were the least ill, the ones that could travel.”
“Precisely. And to hire a nurse this close to the holidays would cost a fortune.”
“Or if it didn’t, I’d get—”
“Yes, someone very unsuitable. Quite right. You need someone hardworking and knowledgeable and dependable. That’s why I’m offering to come myself and help out.”
“Oh, Martha, don’t. I’ll be all right. I’ve got—”
“I know, but we both know that Daisy and Pansy are easily overwhelmed on the best of days.”
“True. But I wasn’t really calling to—”
“I know, my dear. But the fact that you’re using the telephone at all tells me you’re at the end of your tether.”
“It’s a diabolical contraption. But, Martha, you have your lodgers.”
“No, I don’t. They’ve gone to Devon to catch a murderer. They said they’ll be back on Boxing Day. I can leave a note and basic provisions in case they return earlier. So, it’s settled. I’m coming to help ensure you don’t require a sickroom yourself!”
“Oh!” The relief in Marie Turner’s voice was evident even along the dubious lines of a diabolical contraption.
---
"I don’t know what’s the greater miracle,” said Watson as he and Holmes tromped up the stairs, suitcases in hand, “the rapidity with which you solved the case or our ability to get return passage to London at this time of year.”
“The latter, definitely,” replied Holmes, good-naturedly. He looked about when they reached the sitting room. Unembarrassed, he even sniffed the air.
“Mrs. Hudson is not here.”
“Well deduced,” said Watson, plucking a note from the dining table.
Holmes moved closer and read over Watson’s shoulder.
“She’s gone to help Mrs. Turner nurse her ill lodgers,” said Watson. “We’re to fend for ourselves. Would you like to go to a hotel?”
“I shouldn’t like to press our luck twice. We found space on a train. I’m less optimistic we’ll find room at an inn.”
“I suppose we can manage.”
“Of course, we can. We’re resourceful creatures, and there’s an added boon.”
“What’s that?”
“There is no one to be disturbed.”
The import of the words hit home, and Watson’s eyes widened. He turned his head and said,
“We can be as loud as we like.”
Holmes raised his eyebrows, then nodded.
---
Mrs. Hudson returned to 221 Baker Street exhausted but satisfied.
She’d done a good turn, more than one good turn. All of Marie’s lodgers were on the mend. The worst was over, and her friend had not got even so much as a sniffle despite running back and forth, day and night, like the proverbial headless chicken.
Mrs. Hudson was about to head to the kitchen and make herself a cup of tea when she heard noises from upstairs.
Loud noises.
The gentlemen?
Fearing any number of dangers—thieves, villains, Mister Holmes practicing his baristu—Mrs. Hudson grabbed a broom and went to investigate.
As she climbed the stairs, the noise grew more distinguishable, but Mrs. Hudson’s initial reaction was overwhelmed by another when she saw the state of the sitting room.
It was, in a word, disaster.
Dirt, crumbs, ash. Soiled plates, cups, cutlery. Singed upholstery. Splinters and scuffs.
There were no signs of violence, only the carelessness of two gentlemen allowed to go unchecked for days.
Mrs. Hudson’s blood began to boil.
Then she heard the groans coming from Mister Holmes’s bedroom and the bangs of a headboard repeatedly hitting the wall.
“Gentlemen!”
The banging and the groaning stopped abruptly.
“I would like to speak to you, please,” called Mrs. Hudson.
Mrs. Hudson ignored their state of undress and their chastened schoolboy countenances.
“This room, and your bedrooms, and the kitchen, and any other room you’ve enjoyed,” she imbued this last word its full meaning, “will be restored to their proper state by you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Mrs. Hudson.”
Author/Artist
stonepicnicking_okapiLength/Size of work 700
Summary Mrs. Hudson leaves 221 Baker Street and returns to find a mess.
Rating Teen
Warnings Suggested sexual scene, nothing graphic
Other content notes Prompt: cold/flu
Fandom (optional) Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Pairing (optional Watson/Holmes
Beta (optional) None.
Disclaimer (mandatory only if not original work) I do no own Sherlock Holmes. This is for entertainment purposes.
“I’ll come, Marie.”
“Oh, no. I wasn’t—”
“I know you weren’t, but nevertheless, I’m offering to come and help you. You can’t take care of all those sick lodgers by yourself. Influenza is a scourge—and a lot of work!”
“A few of them have gone to their families for Christmas, but of course those were the least ill, the ones that could travel.”
“Precisely. And to hire a nurse this close to the holidays would cost a fortune.”
“Or if it didn’t, I’d get—”
“Yes, someone very unsuitable. Quite right. You need someone hardworking and knowledgeable and dependable. That’s why I’m offering to come myself and help out.”
“Oh, Martha, don’t. I’ll be all right. I’ve got—”
“I know, but we both know that Daisy and Pansy are easily overwhelmed on the best of days.”
“True. But I wasn’t really calling to—”
“I know, my dear. But the fact that you’re using the telephone at all tells me you’re at the end of your tether.”
“It’s a diabolical contraption. But, Martha, you have your lodgers.”
“No, I don’t. They’ve gone to Devon to catch a murderer. They said they’ll be back on Boxing Day. I can leave a note and basic provisions in case they return earlier. So, it’s settled. I’m coming to help ensure you don’t require a sickroom yourself!”
“Oh!” The relief in Marie Turner’s voice was evident even along the dubious lines of a diabolical contraption.
---
"I don’t know what’s the greater miracle,” said Watson as he and Holmes tromped up the stairs, suitcases in hand, “the rapidity with which you solved the case or our ability to get return passage to London at this time of year.”
“The latter, definitely,” replied Holmes, good-naturedly. He looked about when they reached the sitting room. Unembarrassed, he even sniffed the air.
“Mrs. Hudson is not here.”
“Well deduced,” said Watson, plucking a note from the dining table.
Holmes moved closer and read over Watson’s shoulder.
“She’s gone to help Mrs. Turner nurse her ill lodgers,” said Watson. “We’re to fend for ourselves. Would you like to go to a hotel?”
“I shouldn’t like to press our luck twice. We found space on a train. I’m less optimistic we’ll find room at an inn.”
“I suppose we can manage.”
“Of course, we can. We’re resourceful creatures, and there’s an added boon.”
“What’s that?”
“There is no one to be disturbed.”
The import of the words hit home, and Watson’s eyes widened. He turned his head and said,
“We can be as loud as we like.”
Holmes raised his eyebrows, then nodded.
---
Mrs. Hudson returned to 221 Baker Street exhausted but satisfied.
She’d done a good turn, more than one good turn. All of Marie’s lodgers were on the mend. The worst was over, and her friend had not got even so much as a sniffle despite running back and forth, day and night, like the proverbial headless chicken.
Mrs. Hudson was about to head to the kitchen and make herself a cup of tea when she heard noises from upstairs.
Loud noises.
The gentlemen?
Fearing any number of dangers—thieves, villains, Mister Holmes practicing his baristu—Mrs. Hudson grabbed a broom and went to investigate.
As she climbed the stairs, the noise grew more distinguishable, but Mrs. Hudson’s initial reaction was overwhelmed by another when she saw the state of the sitting room.
It was, in a word, disaster.
Dirt, crumbs, ash. Soiled plates, cups, cutlery. Singed upholstery. Splinters and scuffs.
There were no signs of violence, only the carelessness of two gentlemen allowed to go unchecked for days.
Mrs. Hudson’s blood began to boil.
Then she heard the groans coming from Mister Holmes’s bedroom and the bangs of a headboard repeatedly hitting the wall.
“Gentlemen!”
The banging and the groaning stopped abruptly.
“I would like to speak to you, please,” called Mrs. Hudson.
Mrs. Hudson ignored their state of undress and their chastened schoolboy countenances.
“This room, and your bedrooms, and the kitchen, and any other room you’ve enjoyed,” she imbued this last word its full meaning, “will be restored to their proper state by you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Mrs. Hudson.”
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Date: 2022-12-06 10:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-06 02:39 pm (UTC)