Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Character/Pairing: Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, Watson
Challenge/Prompt: holmes_minor June Activity Challenge: Describing Cannon Characters From Another Angle
Word Count: 491
Date Written: 16 June 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Doyle, not the author, and are used without permission.
“Missus Hudson! What are you doing up at this hour?”
The landlady froze, her hand still clutching the railing. She was halfway between their flats, but she was caught.
“Isn’t it obvious, Watson? She was concerned.”
Missus Hudson tucked her head and blushed a little, but she didn’t shy away from the fact. “I had not seen either of you boys in two weeks.”
“And we are sorry to have worried you so, Missus Hudson.”
“Come now. Let me look at you.”
They stepped into the light, Sherlock’s head a little bowed. She wet a finger, closed the distance between them, and scrubbed at a dirty spot on his cheek. She imagined the world renowned figure of Sherlock Holmes could easily invoke fear in any criminal’s heart, but as she looked up at him, she saw only a shy, little boy who was completely unaccustomed to being cared for. His eyes were downcast, unable to meet hers, and although he fidgeted beneath her hand, he did not step fully away from her efforts to clean him.
As she scrubbed the spot of dirt, she also took in the rest of his form. He had lost a good ten pounds since the last time she’d seen him, ten pounds he didn’t need to lose. His hair was as dirty as his face, and more than half of what most people would mistake for dirt, Missus Hudson feared, were bruises which he had been sporting for a few days now. His jacket was torn -- she’d have to mend that later --, but his hat, she could take care of now. She reached up and straightened his cap before sending him, with a gentle pat on his shoulder, on his way.
Doctor Watson tried to edge by her, but she was having none of his usual elusive maneuverings. She stepped directly into his pathway, noting how he was favoring his bed leg this evening and his fingers looked dark and thinned on top of his cane. She straightened his jacket and cap, but her fingers hesitated on his lapel. “You took good care of our boy, Doctor Watson,” she whispered softly enough that only he should be able to hear her.
“I am no one’s boy, Missus Hudson,” Sherlock called from where he was fidgeting with his key in the door. It clicked open as she stepped away from the good doctor and looked back up at him.
“So you say, Mister Holmes. So you say,” she said peacefully, letting him go. She smiled as she watched both the detective and the doctor step into their little home from her and disappear, the door closing securely behind her. He could say it all he liked, but they all knew he was wrong. Both Sherlock and Watson had become her boys, rather they liked it or not, but now that they were at last home safe, maybe she could catch a little bit of shut-eye too.