I was bound to find my way to this fandom, wasn't I? I had this planned a couple years back and decided to bring out the outline and dust it off. Hope you enjoy my twist on our darling Baker Street boys!
She fought her way through the torrential downpour to what she hoped was the correct apartment alongside the sandwich shop, though there were plenty of that combination on the streets she'd passed so far. Central London housed much more fog and polluted rain than the outskirts and she had to shove hair away from her eyes to make out the number on the door.
221B. She made it.
"Mum! It's me, Nora!" She landed a few good smacks to the door but got no reply. "Mum, open up! It's horrible out here."
The door was finally opened a sliver and a perturbed Mrs. Hudson peeked out. As soon as she saw the drenched woman on the doorstep, she cried, "Nora, good heavens! Get inside right now and try not to drip too much on the furniture."
Nora huffed as she was dragged right back into her teenage rebellion at just one ridiculous sentence from her mother, but she did her best to comply as she hauled her suitcases inside and carefully avoided putting it near the sofas or on the carpet.
"Oh dear," her mother continued to fret, "I did forget to tell my tenants that you were coming, but I'm sure they'll take it in stride."
"Any chance I could get a towel, since we've skipped past hello?" Nora shrugged off her waterlogged jumper and took a deep breath of the air pricked with a floral scent.
"Well yes, let me go find a clean one if we have any."
There was a clock ticking on the wall that drew Nora's gaze around the room at the lull in company and though it was small, she noticed the place was rather quaint and cozy and it was after all in a good part of town. If she wasn't so settled in the suburbs of Croydon she'd consider moving in.
And if she wasn't at odds with her mother, too.
A bustle from behind her told of that same mother coming back and Nora immediately began patting herself dry with the towel provided as the other woman perched on a chair.
"Uh, so Mum," she began as she twisted and turned to reach her saturated back. "How've you been?"
"It's all fine here, dear. You don't call enough to hear about the day-to-day."
Nora unsuccessfully stifled a scoff. "I think I last called months ago, so I'd say that's true. You do seem to be doing well here for yourself, as am I."
Her mother stepped back into the kitchen to fetch the pot of tea and fiddle with a few biscuits, both of which were nervous ticks. "Yes, Nora, I'm doing well. And how's your business going? Any more unseemly break-ins?"
"Mum! That was years ago when I first began, I do wish you'd give that a rest."
She did give it a rest and finally Nora was able to take her larger luggage into the spare bedroom down the hall and change into clothes that were less damp. The room was calming and had all the usual knickknacks her mum kept around, flooding back happier memories that began to thaw her bones. She tugged her wet hair up and away into a ponytail before rejoining the elder Hudson for the tea still sitting in the kitchen, a gentle smile drawing her lips apart.
"It really is good to see you, Mum. And sorry about earlier, I'll try to be a little better."
Mrs. Hudson waved a dismissive hand as they sat more comfortably at the table. "Come now, dearie, what's a mother and daughter if they don't fight like cats?"
"More functional than us," Nora deadpanned, and the women laughed for the first time since the rain had enclosed them together.
A key scraping in the lock behind them snapped Nora's head up much faster than her mother's as the latter nonchalantly noted, "Ah, that should be my tenants coming in now. They're such lovely boys, I do think you'll like them."
The rain had lessened considerably but both men hustled in quickly all the same, and with the kitchen door open Nora's view from the table gave her the perfect angle to survey both. The pair were rather stark opposites: one tall and one short, brunette and gray-blonde, the former with a startlingly clear expression and the other with comforting wise lines creasing at his mouth and brow.
And then all at once they were up the stairs and away with not so much as a word.
Mrs. Hudson just giggled knowingly and stood to clear away the dishes. "We best make a visit up to their flat, they seem very determined and so probably won't come down soon."
The stairs were all solid under Nora's feet as she followed her mother up a floor, all except one that creaked loudly under both of them. When they reached the top she was surprised to find that the door to the upstairs flat was open, and the women stood respectfully in the threshold as Mrs. Hudson called to the two occupants.
"Boys, I've brought someone to meet you."
Only one turned around, the shorter one, and offered a pleasant smile as he waved them inside and toward the couch. The taller man's dark curls gave him a wild outline from where he stood facing the window and only when his friend poignantly cleared his throat did he acknowledge them.
Without turning to face them, the man at the window said, "I'm surprised you ignored Mrs. Hudson's daughter downstairs, John, don't you consider that kind of thing rude?
John, evidently the man next to them, scoffed and shook his head. "That's not…is it? Are you her daughter?"
"Hang on, how did you know that?" Nora questioned. "I thought you said you didn't tell them I was coming, Mum."
"I didn't even know you had a daughter," John said to Mrs. Hudson, making Nora whip around to also face her mother.
"What, were you too embarrassed of me to tell them you had offspring?"
She piped back, "Not when we're on bad terms, that's not the kind of family you brag of!"
"It always works for me," the man at the window mused.
The three bickering paused to stare at him, the man who'd kept quiet except for two little interjections. Nora then quickly burst, "How did you know I was her daughter? Who are you?"
He whirled dramatically to face them and his intense blue eyes suddenly scoured Nora bottom to top, making her shift under his gaze.
"The bow in your upper lip is the same shape as dear Mrs. Hudson's and your hair is the same shade of brown hers would be if she weren't graying. Your slouched posture next to her indicates familiarity and you bicker with her much like any daughter does. Mrs. Hudson has also extensively told of the very physical nature of her and Mr. Hudson's relationship and I'm surprised she doesn't have more children scattered about. Let's not forget your bit of hand luggage downstairs, shall we? The single initial N is embroidered on the front and women don't use surnames alone for a monogram, leaving it to be your first. Interesting choice, leaving an H off, as it suggests you're not terribly fond of the Hudson connotation. And to top it off, it's obvious you came in from the rain and yet there was an umbrella handle visible in the luggage, meaning you purposefully got drenched to seem more vulnerable because that would make it less likely for Mrs. Hudson to get angry and start an argument."
He made the long speech seem effortless and punctuated it with, "And the name is Sherlock Holmes."
John spoke up among the stunned silence. "And you knew that from the three seconds we were downstairs?"
"Unless of course she's with the Russian mafia, which would explain most of those things," Sherlock airily skipped the question posed, "but seeing as Mrs. Hudson isn't up in arms we can assume the former."
Nora was still staring dumbfounded and only snapped her jaw closed when she remembered it was rudely hanging open too long. She slowly stood, mouth now dry and still in a little disbelief, and held out her hand. "Well somehow you're correct on all accounts. Mr. Holmes, was it? I'm Nora Hudson."
His grip on her hand was firm and cool and yet his smirk warmed her chest. "I know."
"And I'm Doctor John Watson," the other man offered and Nora shook his hand eagerly as well.
"A doctor? I'm impressed. How did my mother get such bright tenants?"
Sherlock scoffed before he skirted away to sit in a chair across the room. "Bright is a relative term when it comes to John."
"He's always this kind, I promise," John said wryly.
"Oh dear!" Mrs. Hudson chided. "Try not to make Nora so comfortable with your hostility, she's only just arrived."
"Yes, I'm quite sure she's unfamiliar with hostility in her line of work," Sherlock smugly added.
Nora could have laughed in the silence that followed, with everyone's baited breath waiting for Sherlock to jump into another spiel about her. The couch beneath her and the company she was in were already quite comfortable and so she sank further into the cushions before speaking up again.
"Should I tell you what I do or would you like to figure that out on your own?"
Sherlock hinted at a proud smile as he rested his fingers in front of his mouth to survey her again. "Antiques handler, obviously. You began your visit on a Monday, meaning that your busiest work days fall on the weekend. Your eyes have darted around the room multiple times since your entrance to ogle the books or vintage artifacts I've got stored around. Dust lingering on your clothes means dealing with old objects, ergo antiques worker. Bromley, I'm guessing?"
"Croydon," she corrected and bit back a grin at his frustration, "but right again. I own the largest antiques store in the borough after working as VP for the previous owner for years straight out of university."
"How'd you land that good a job?" John asked.
Nora batted her eyes excessively. "My feminine wiles can be very powerful."
Without missing a beat, Sherlock said, "She slept with the boss."
"Nora Jean!" Mrs. Hudson cried, standing up in indignation. "How dare you!"
"Mum, it was just once. And you were an exotic dancer so I hardly think you're in a position to be upset."
"Men paid to look at my body, not actually handle it!" The elder woman huffed some more and headed for the door. "I will be downstairs if you need me."
Once she was alone with the two tenants, Nora felt a blush growing on her cheeks. The rain had begun to beat down harder once more, at least lending a soothing background hum to the stiff room. They were both avoiding eye contact with her after the outburst and she felt it her duty to smooth things over instead of scurrying away so soon.
"I do apologize for how easily Mum and I can get into a row."
John waved dismissively and sat on the couch in the freshly empty space next to her. "It's bound to happen with parents. Why are you here, by the way, since you haven't visited since Sherlock and I moved in?"
"I'm having major renovations done to my house," she explained, "and I figured I might try and catch up with Mum as well as have a handy place to be away from all the constant jackhammering."
Sherlock crossed and uncrossed his legs, boredom seeping through every twitch of his muscles. "And what of your darling antiques business? I doubt John will let you take any of his useless things even with recompense."
She giggled openly at John's sour expression before catching the restless gaze of the man across the room. "Business through the virtual world is booming nowadays, Mr. Holmes, and even the boss lady earns her holidays. You lot have got about a month of me as an extra flatmate."
It was John's turn to laugh. "Not sure you'll be spending much time up here."
"No, of course not."
Up the stairs to flat B was Nora's first destination the next morning. Her mother was nowhere to be found on the ground floor and neither was any handsoap so she trekked up to where she heard the elusive woman's voice wafting from the upper flat.
"I am not your housekeeper!" she was complaining to John while pouring his morning tea.
Nora flicked a wave and a smile before interjecting. "Mum, where have you got the handsoap stored?"
"Just because I was your housekeeper for eighteen years," Mrs. Hudson's warning tone was familiar to all in the room, "doesn't mean I still am. Do they not sell it outside of Central London?"
Nora had to clasp her hands to keep from snickering in light of being scolded and simply offered, "You're right, I'll go out for some in a bit."
Her mother's face softened once she had a large tray of food settled nicely on the table just as Sherlock stumbled out of his room. She placed a kiss to her daughter's temple and announced, "Now dear, if you were nice enough to these boys yesterday they may just let you in on the breakfast."
She was out of the room and down the stairs before anyone could bring her to their beck and call and John was the one to motion Nora toward their table to eat. She helped herself to the familiar croissants and juices as Sherlock barely took a sip of tea before escaping to the main room and taking up his violin, burgundy dressing gown flailing behind him.
A shrewd melody wafted over the rooms and eclipsed most of the busy noises from the street below, and Nora cracked a grin as Sherlock swayed back and forth to his own tune. The blank expression on his features, however, let on that his mind was delving far elsewhere.
John took advantage of this and lowered his voice to ask something that had clearly been on his mind for awhile. "So let me get this straight, your dad was the one…" He trailed off in embarrassment.
"In the drug cartel? Yes," she answered easily and gave a comforting smile. "My business prowess had to come from somewhere, Dr. Watson."
He chuckled. "Yes I do suppose you've had time to come to terms with it."
"Then I suppose she'll need plenty of time to adjust to your obtuseness about it," Sherlock called over the incessant music as John's eyes rolled skyward.
They fell back into brief silence while eating the spread of breakfast. Nora's elbows were neatly propped on the table, putting on full display the wrinkles in her shirt from being folded in her suitcase until that morning, something she quickly lost track of during the riveting conversation that followed. John inquired about her university experience and the German she'd learned for business purposes and she was curious about his medical expertise. She was surprised when he mentioned Afghanistan but he was quite willing to proudly explain.
"Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, yes."
"Once again I'm apparently in better company than expected."
The violin screeched to a halt and Sherlock sighed loudly. "Neither of you can observe worth a damn. Yes, her father was executed on criminal charges. Yes, you've now got one flatmate who's ex-military and me, the consulting detective whose brother is the British government. Are we all caught up now?"
To John's surprise, Nora's lips held the faintest smile and she was quick on her toes even from a sitting position.
"Yes, we're quite caught up. I'm impressed except you've yet to mention the fiancé I've been hiding from you. Am I that good?"
Sherlock stalked over and thwacked the violin bow down in front of her, his glare aflame with interest at the challenge that she'd so suddenly presented. Not many people wanted to draw more of his critical attention to themselves.
The sharp swish of the string had definitely caught Nora's attention and she couldn't help but wonder, did he catch the spark in her eye? Or the weight of her breath?
Surprisingly he made comment on neither, instead saying with the blunt force of a brick, "You don't have one. You've not turned even subconscious attention to your ring finger, so there's not usually a ring there in the first place. And you have no issue being in the close unsupervised vicinity of two single men in your mother's own home. But it was too kind of you to try and engage my bored mind."
John quickly grew tired of holding his tongue and quipped, "Well you weren't on the kind side, Sherlock. Why do you always have to prove yourself like that?"
"It's quite alright, Dr. Watson," Nora placated, "since you both seem to be comfortable with me so quickly, I don't mind saying that I've lived with a jackarse before."
Sherlock proudly smirked. "See, John? I'm as much a common jackarse as any man."
Nora felt compelled to clear away her part of the dishes when the meal came to a close and as she was washing at the sink the two men fell into an excited exchange about a story in the papers. She nodded to herself, suddenly quite sure that a month's stay with her mother wouldn't turn out to be a rough one after all.
The smut's gonna be in the third chapter if you're lookin for it :)