Great minds, no matter how great they might be, can be twisted and distorted. I of all people, have had my eye full of suprises while serving in the army and living with my flatmate in 22b. I went from a soldier to detective sidekick, and couldn't be happier. Hes dangerous, and always keeps me on my toes. I guess you could say i'm never bored.
…
The groceries slip slighty out of my hands as I fish through my pocket for my set of keys. While grip the bags in an odd fashion and unlock the door. My nostrils are greeted with a strong smell of chemicals, oh lord another experiment, I think as I wobble akwardly to the kitchen counter. I set the bag down just before they give way to their paper bottoms and relieve the weight off my arms.
Groceries are a pain to get but if I don't, Sherlock sure as hell wouldn't and he would then most likely forget to eat. I have to remind him sometimes, well most the time, but it has earned him a more healthier glow. I guess their are just some things that need the old Watson touch in 22b.
I store the food in the fride, which has been rid of the frozen head that once lived there. Another thing that I changed upon moving in, which I had to give an arm and a leg for Sherlock to agree. Speacking of which, I wonder where he has headed off to now.
I move through the flat cautiously, you never know if hes not in the mood to be disturbered or not. It's funny how I just realized how cat like he acted. I let that thought go as I find no evidence of him anywhere, just an old experiment which is undiscribable. Then just out of the corner of my eye, I see his trenchcoat lying on a recliner.
Odd he never leaves without it unless it's Lestrade texted him about a triple murder homicide, or something like that. I don't worry, hes probely off having fun he'll be home some time.
Then I think how weird that sound, and how common that has become for me
…
Mrs. Hudson knocked on 22b, lightly humming to a song she had stuck in her head. She knew she had a key of her own, but always liked being curtious to her geust. By the time she had finished humming , the door opened. John stepped into veiw, by the looks of his eyes, she could tell he had been sleeping. He instantly perked up upon seeing her.
"Mrs. Hudson what brings you here?" John slurs mindlessly
"Oh, I just came to see how my favorite boys are doing" She said reminding John of his grandmother.
"Then would you like to come in for a cup of tea" he invited as he stepped to the side, and she nodded and walked through the threshhold. She found a seat by the mantle, and bobbed her head around, never the less, she knew her true reason for being here.
John returned shortly with two cups of tea and sat down.
"So how have things been?" he questioned, taking a sip of "Earl Grey".
"Fine, fine" Her eyes drifted off and settled on the cup full of dark liquid.
"Are you ok, you seem a bit off?" John asked. He couldn't help but feel a little uncomfertable, usally there conversations were never this dry, but now a long silence has filled the air, so thick that john thought he could literally cut a prefect square into it with a nife.
She opened her mouth, but quickly shut it and looked around as if trying to find the words in this thick haze of blinding silence. John Waited for a response that never came.
"Mrs. Hudson, if something is bothering you, tell me so I can help." John said, looking more cautious.
"It's Sherlock… Hes…" she paused and looked down grimly. Mrs. Hudson had no intention of looking back up, unless she'd be caught in his dead gaze. John then worried, his imagination gushed with ideas too horrid to speak of. Sherlock had many enmies and they could have done any number of the things he had imagined thay'd do to him.
"MRS. HUDSON!" he boomed, Which startled the poor frail women. John quickly realized what he had just done and sighed. Even as a child, he would through massive fits, but not when he hadn't gotten his way, But under times of great engency when he was frustrated and not getting the answers dier to the situation at hand. He really hadn't meant to yell it's just… Sherlock was important to him… in a different way that didn't just fit the name "flatmates".
John got up and Embraced Mrs. Hudson, at first she jumped but then she settled into his silent apology. After a good long hug session, the broke apart, but John remained at her side holding her hand. She still looked down, but he never broke eye contact, he stared at her dead on waiting for a resopnse. Meanwhile a multitude of ideas ran through his head, all revolving around his dear friend and what could possibly happen to a consulting detective out in "Big Ole Bad London".
After some time, she looked up meekly.
"I'm so, so Sorry John." She said with tears in her eyes."I understand how important he is to you". John suddenly remembered the day he told her about his feeling towards his strange flatmate, and how unsure and confused he was, and if he should confess such feelings to him. And… she listened, not only about Sherlock, but about the war and how even though he was the smallest how he had to take care of his whole famliy. She'd listened to it all, almost all of his secrets and fears she knew. He still can't figure out why he tells her, or why she listens. Maybe shes not a total arse like other people, or maybe it was because she reminded him of the spitting image of his grandmother, who had passed early in his life, and he told everything to her. Anyways, Mrs. Hudson did a hell of a lot better than any therapist could do.
"I know I would be scared if I lost someone I loved, and the only person who could help was to incompident to speak…" She teared up a little more.
"You are one of the best friends this doctor could have, and I know that you are anything from imcompident" He said pulling her into another shorter hug."I Just let my temper get the best of me and I let it out on you. I'm just worried and want to know where you saw him go."
"Well, I came to visit you and Sherlock, but I noticed you were gone, so I thought I might just leave Sherlock alone incase he was trying to focuse. Then I noticed the door was open" she looked over to the door and then to john agian. " I thought I would just drop in and see if everything was alright, and walked in. I saw no one in here or the kitchen, so I desided to look up stairs, But on my way up, I saw something move out the corner of my eye." John nodded as indecation for her to continue.
"I made my way through the mess, which I made a mental to clean later, anyways I approuched a human sized ball behind the recliner which I asumed was Sherlock. He had covered himself in blankets and pillows, but when I moved one…" She started to choke up agian when John hushed her and held her until she could speak agian.
"Mrs. Hudson… please what happened next?" He questioned
"… H-h-he was all curled up and rocking back and forth while chanting some jibberush himself… then his head shot up and gave me a nasty but scared look. His eyes were bloodshot and had countless bags under them, his face looked clamy and hollow as he seized up… kinda like a dear in headlights, then he ran out and said nothing." John for lack of a better word was stunned.
"I-I didn't know what to do so I put on a calm face and waited til' you came home" She began to cry harder than ever, most likely from relief of getting it off her chest. John hugged her tight then stould up and pulled out his phone and called lestrade.
-Note: Sorry, it's kinda short but I felt this would be a good place to leave off. I promise the next chapter will be longer. PS I'm terribly sorry about all my covention and spelling errors
