Hello! yep tis me again. This is another sequel (of sorts) to the Valentines Day murder. Though you don't necessarily have had to have read that to understand this. Hope you like it. Thank you all for the support, love you all lots and lots, and again a big thank you to Curreeus for pointing out all the silly mistakes in my last story. :D
Mrs Hudson grabbed her oven gloves and pulled the scones out of the oven. She squealed to herself with delight, it was two o'clock in the afternoon. Her knitting circle would be round any minute and her scones were perfect, not that he was showing of or anything. She carefully placed them onto the plate to cool down and then went to the cupboard to fetch the jam.
She made sure she had made extra for Sherlock and John, Sherlock was still without a case and he was driving everyone potty. He liked her scones though, the man had a very sweet tooth. She made a mental note to invite John for tea, he used to come round all the time for cups of tea and slices of cake, not so much anymore, he was always busy with Sherlock doing something in their flat, though what they were up to she had no idea, though she did hear terribly loud banging at night. The walls of their flat were paper thin, 'Can't be good for my ceiling' she thought.
Mrs Thompson arrived first, an elderly woman in her late seventies. They air kissed and Mrs Hudson busied herself making a pot of tea and Mrs Thompson settled into an armchair. Mrs Thompson began to tell her about her granddaughter in Australia. She had gone travelling 'to find herself'
'Though why she had to go all the way to Australia to do it I have no idea' she added in her broad Yorkshire accent. Mrs Thompson would never understand the young.
Mrs Greene and Miss Elliot were next to arrive. They quickly complained about the state of the buses and the rudeness of just about everyone. Though Mrs Greene did ask if today, they would see 'that lovely John who lived the flat above?' She had a fondness for doctors.
Another knock at the door and Mrs Baxter strolled in, Mrs Baxter was quite possibly the most dizziest women Mrs Hudson had ever met, but she was a dear.
So the knitting circle was complete, tea was handed out and scones were buttered and jammed. They settled into armchairs and began to natter and gossip, the way only elderly women can. Even though Mrs Hudson was not that old, she still enjoyed entertaining them. They were so engrossed in their conversation they actually forgot to get their knitting out, not that any of them noticed, they were not in any rush, the knitting could wait. Especially when they had juicy gossip to tut over.
'I can't believe it' Mrs Thompson shrilled.
Miss Elliot nodded in agreement 'That's the last time I buy my cabbages off of him' There was a murmur of agreement.
It was then that they heard the most extraordinary noise coming from the flat upstairs, it started off as a banging, and then there was the most awful creaking sound coming from the floorboards.
'I say what is going on up there?' Mrs Baxter asked.
Mrs Hudson just waved a hand. 'Probably just moving furniture about.' She hoped that was what they were doing, since he had no case Sherlock's experiments were getting more and more adventurous. She sent up a silent prayer for her wall.
The ladies finished their tea and scones and then began to knit, all the while carrying on their conversation, trying to ignore the noises coming from upstairs.
They all jumped in unison as a cry came, it sounded like Sherlock.
'Is he alright, he sounded like he was in pain?' Miss Elliot was deeply concerned, they could do themselves an injury.
'Should we phone an ambulance?' Asked Mrs Greene.
'Now now, John is a doctor, a trained professional. I'm sure he is in control of the situation' Mrs Hudson was doing her best to calm everyone down.
'Oh John' came a muffled cry.
'Mrs Hudson I really think we should go investigate, they could be hurting themselves' Mrs Baxter stared at the ceiling.
The others nodded in agreement, so the small group of women put down their knitting and ventured up to the flat upstairs. Mrs Hudson leading them, the others were following closely behind. Mrs Hudson opened the door, it wasn't locked. They all walked in to the empty space timidly, god knows what they would find.
'Where are they?' Mrs Baxter wondered. Suddenly there were a few more cries and the weird creaking noise.
'It's coming from over there' Mrs Thompson concluded pointing towards the door of John's room. Mrs Hudson beckoned the ladies across the flat and opened the door.
'Are you two all right in here you are making an awful noise...oh my god'
Mrs Hudson's knitting circle were greeted by the site of a completely naked Sherlock writhing around in the middle of the bed, his back arched and a completely naked John on top of him, thrusting into him, their lips crushed together. Both looked flushed and were covered in sweat,
Sherlock turned his head.
'Mrs Hudson' he cried. As soon as the boys registered their intrusion John leapt off of Sherlock and in his panic accidentally fell of the bed, his body landing with a heavy thump on the floorboards.
Mrs Hudson was gobsmacked.
Mr Baxter fainted and had to be caught by a quick thinking Miss Elliot, who then asked someone to fetch her bag which contained smelling salts.
Mrs Greene just thought what a nice bum John had.
Sherlock grabbed the duvet and tried to cover himself up to protect his modesty. John, who was still lying on the floor, had to make do with cupping himself.
Everyone just stood there for a few moments, looking at each other, mouths opening and shutting like goldfish.
Mrs Hudson finally broke the silence. 'Would you like a scone dear? I've just made some this afternoon'
Mrs Thompson just sighed; she would never understand the young.