So I'm taking a deep breath and diving into the Sherlock fandom, and of course it's Johnlock! I love Mrs Hudson and she takes great pride in her boys, and is, in turn never overlooked by our fellow doctor and detective. So here you go, diving right into the Sherlock fandom!
Beta read by the fantastic MrsNoggin. (Shameless plug, check out her writing, it really is amazing!)
"We're going to be late!" There was an exasperated sigh as a man stood impatiently next to the door. His hand was resting on the door-knob and his foot was tapping out a continuous rhythm, signalling his frustration. His long term partner (of six months) was standing in front of their bedroom mirror, cursing over his tie. Rain tapped repetitively on the windows, almost drowning out the obnoxious, concerned foot-tapping of the man standing in the doorway of the bedroom.
"John they're my parents, they'll not care if we're late," the taller man replied, scowling once again at non-behaving tie. "I don't care if we're late, to be frank I don't even know why you suggested this ridiculous meet in the first place!"
"Don't do this Sherlock!" the ex-soldier replied, crossing his arms over his chest and holding in an exasperated sigh. "It was your mum who wanted to officially meet me, and your dad suggested the restaurant. If we really want to blame anybody it's your bloody brother for booking us into the poshest, upstanding hotel in London, I would have just preferred-"
"Blast this confounded tie!" His rant was sunk as his partner lost the battle with his neck-tie, but he couldn't help but smile as his boyfriend was outsmarted by a piece of cloth. His boyfriend even after all the time they'd been dating (and for John it was considerably longer than most of his relationships put together) he still couldn't believe, that straight, not gay, John, him, himself, was going to meet Sherlock's parents officially. Yes, he was unbelievably nervous, although Sherlock's parents seemed happy-as-Larry on the outside, he figured that he was going to get the run-around. Seeing as he was a forty-something year-old dating their thirty-something year-old Holmes Jr.
"Boys your taxi's here!" There was the call from their long-suffering landlady downstairs. "You'd better get down here now!"
"Thank-you!" John hollered back. "Sherlock's tie's just giving him trouble!"
"John!" The taller man hissed, his baby-blue eyes narrowing into slits. "That's not funny!"
"Sherlock are you having trouble with your tie?" The softness of Mrs Hudson's voice surprised them both, and they saw her hovering next to the doorway, looking like the concerned, slightly amused second-mother she'd become. "Come here, I've told the taxi to wait so you've got five minutes, John you'd better get your things together."
The shorter one of the two males realised that he was no longer required and let out something of a huff, almost skulking out of his shared bedroom like a disgraced puppy. Moving towards Sherlock, she reached out, and started to knot his tie, quickly and efficiently, smiling as she did so.
"Marty always had problems with his tie," she spoke quietly and fondly of her late husband, watching the reaction of one of her favourite boys as she adjusted the neckwear. "You're nervous," she stated, straightening out the taller man's tie, and pulling the knot tight, before laying it down flat and brushing out the crinkles with loving care.
"I'm not," the man in question glowered over the top of her head, not allowing himself to make eye-contact.
"Pish-posh, Sherlock," the landlady replied, rolling her eyes. She walked over to his night-stand and plucked up his wallet, and his phone, and a handkerchief. "I know you better than you think," she turned and handed him his valuables. "You're nervous, that's the only reason that you can't do your tie. You might be a genius, but you can't multi-task to save your life."
Sherlock's scowl intensified.
"You're worried," she concluded.
"No I'm not-"
"Sherlock..." The name was drawn out as one long reprimanding syllable. "Come now, you can talk to me."
"Fine," he hissed a breath through gritted teeth. "I'm worried that they won't like him, I'm worried that Father's going to bombard him with questions about Afghanistan, and I'm worried what they'll think of the age difference."
The landlady nodded sympathetically, systematically folding the small white handkerchief before pulling lightly on his chest pocket, and slipping the accessory cleanly inside. Outside the rain continued to drum methodically against the window, filling in the comfortable silence of the bedroom, but the silence was broken when the man swallowed. "I'm worried they'll hate me for loving John."
"Oh Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson smiled gently, and reached up, brushing her hand across his curls and smoothing them back into place. "Look," her hand came to rest on the younger man's cheek, her thumb moved tenderly, a gentle caress that was as motherly as it was loving. "They're your parents, they'll never stop loving you,"
"But-"
"Did your parents ever kick you out of the house?" She could see that the question surprised him, as his eyebrows lifted, and his mouth twisted into a questioning frown.
"No-"
She cut him off again. "Did they ever berate you for mutilating the Christmas turkey when you wanted to see if frozen meat could bounce? Did they ever force you into anything you didn't want to whole-heartedly want to do-?" (The detective's mouth opened, but she cut across him). "Don't even start to complain to me about socialising with other children, because every child has too," (his mouth shut rather quickly). "Did they ever kick you and your brother out of the house because they just didn't want you?"
Silence was her response, and she smiled, knowing that she'd won an argument with the famous Reichenbach Detective.
"Your parents love you, and they'll love John," she watched as Sherlock bit his lip, uncharacteristically worrying the skin with his teeth. "And if they don't, you're my boys, and I'll tell them a few things about acceptance."
"Don't mean to interrupt, but the cabbie's getting bitchy!" There was a call from John at the bottom of the stairs. "He says he'll leave if we're not down there in two!"
Mrs Hudson sighed, and smiled, automatically re-adjusting Sherlock's tie into position just so, and smoothing his handkerchief free of any minute ripples in its fabric. She reached up and pressed a motherly kiss to the younger man's cheek, and patted his shoulder. "Go on, have fun, and try not to be smothering of John; he is his own man you know,"
"Oh I know," the detective replied, a small, rare smile on his face, only reserved for when he was truly content.
"Sherlock! The cab's about to leave!" There was the exasperated voice of the other man-of-the-flat from the bottom of the staircase, and both occupants could hear the frustration lacing his words.
"Thank-you, Mrs Hudson. I'd better go before he starts complaining that we're going to be late."
On cue there was the irritated shout of his partner. "We're going to be late!"
The pair smiled at each other, a quiet confirmation of the facts. She was about to walk past him and out of the room, but the younger man pulled her into a tight and unexpected hug, causing a gasp to admit from her mouth.
"I mean it," he murmured, his face resting against her weathered neck.
"I know," he felt her smile against his ear, and press a motherly kiss against the side of his temple. "Now go before you really are late," extracting himself methodically and quickly from their embrace he gave her a boyish grin before darting out of the door and exiting the flat. From the bedroom she could hear muffled sounds of the pair leaving the building, and the soft (slightly irritated voice) of John. When the door closed she couldn't help but shake her head and smile.
They were her boys, and they'd work it out eventually, even if one of them was a stubborn socially erratic sociopath and the other a well-meaning good-tempered forty-something doctor, but they were her boys, and more fool anyone who attempted to make them unhappy.
She started to hum and she happily pottered around the bedroom, fixing the bed linen and fluffing the feather pillows. A picture, set cosily in a dark mahogany frame, caught her eye, and she paused in her chores to pluck it off the bedside table. It was the pair of them, they were standing outside a pub, on a sparkling crisp spring morning, both smiling (in their own way) straight at the camera. John's arm was tucked casually around Sherlock's slim shoulders, and he had a gloriously happy beam across his face. Sherlock on the other hand, was standing, quite passively next to the doctor, a small smile causing the smallest upward movement of his lips and a mischievous happy flicker in his crystal blue eyes. Lightly she touched the photograph, before placing it back in its rightful place against the night-stand.
They were her boys, and together, they were going to be perfectly fine.
Heh it was a bit cheesy at the end but I hope you still liked it! I really enjoyed writing this one and more will be up soon, maybe even some Mystrande!
Anyway hope you enjoyed it!
LostLyra