Mrs. Hudson sighed contentedly to herself as she sat down in her chair, a cup of tea on the table before her. Nights like this were her favourite; just her own company, and nothing at all to worry about. Satisfied, she leaned back and drifted off into a snooze.
"Sherlock! What the devil are you talking about?"
With a jolt, Mrs. Hudson awoke, her eyes snapping open.
"WHAT! What on earth do you mean?"
The shouting was coming from the flat above hers. "But that sounded like John's voice!", she muttered to herself.
"What do you think I mean? What else could I possibly mean other than what I just said?
"And that's definitely Sherlock", she sighed. "Oh I do hope those two aren't fighting!"
"And why have you never told me before?"
"I've never really had the chance, that's why!"
"Well really", Mrs. Hudson grumbled to herself, rather irritated by the racket. "I'd rather that they were firing guns than arguing, anything is more peaceful than this unholy row!"
She considered going upstairs to see of they were all right, but decided against it. "I'd better leave them to sort out their own domestic problems".
"Yes of course I'm bloody well serious! Listen to me… I…"
By now, Mrs. Hudson was intrigued as to what had caused such a heated dispute between the two, and she sat there listening intently for several more minutes, but to her disappointment, they were now quiet. "Well at least I'll have some peace now", she said as she sipped her tea. "Probably just a childish squabble".
The next day, she decided to check on the flat when Sherlock and John left. "For all I know they could have destroyed the place" she sighed to herself. "Although why I should tidy it up I really don't know, I am most certainly not their housekeeper…"
Climbing the stairs, she briskly knocked on the door to 221B, and upon hearing no reply, said, "Obviously both left". She unlocked the door and stepped inside. To her relief, the place bore no evident signs of damage. It was only as she walked across the room to draw the curtains that she noticed Sherlock and John's coats still on their hooks, and the door keys on the table.
She was immediately puzzled, and said to herself, "I was sure they'd have gone out! It is almost midday after all". "Sherlock!" she called softly. "John?". Silence. Curiously, she tiptoed around the flat, checking first the kitchen, then the bathroom and finally one of the bedrooms.
"Well I don't know", she said to herself. "It looks as though they've disappeared into thin air. And knowing Sherlock, they might have done just that…".
She was just about to leave when she heard a faint noise coming from inside the other bedroom. After debating whether she should go in or not, curiosity finally got the better of her, and she opened the bedroom door as quietly as she could and peeped inside.
Sherlock was lying in bed, still fast asleep despite the hour, the duvet pulled around his midriff. One of his arms was wrapped firmly across John's shoulder, who was sleeping peacefully next to him. He was using Sherlock's chest as a pillow, his head stirring slightly as Sherlock's torso rose and fell. One of his hands was resting firmly on Sherlock's stomach, and the other entwined with Sherlock's own, their legs tangled beneath the blanket in such a way that it was impossible to tell whose was whose.
With an enigmatic smile, Mrs. Hudson closed the door as silently as she had opened it, and retreated from the flat. Descending the stairs she shook her head in a knowing way, as she chuckled, "I always knew".