A week without Mrs Hudson

Day 1

Holmes fessed up to a vague culinary skill he'd come about by accident whilst investigating which pallets covered the taste of various poisons. He's making such a concoction, hopefully minus the arsenic, now. In return, I tackle the laundry- Holmes' room is a pit and he knows that the trade is an unfair one.

Day 2

Holmes' papers are everywhere. He says he can date both of our files better by the layer of dust.

After work I brought home some meat, potatoes, onions and garlic from the grocers. Mr Miller asked where Mrs Hudson was and laughed. He's added salt to the pile I accumulated at the counter. He said Holmes might need it. I didn't know salt went in in the cooking process as well as afterwards.

Day 3

We're down to the last few plates. Somebody will have to do the washing up soon. There is an unwritten law that this is the man who can't stand it any longer. Holmes has used playing cards as spoons and I'm now lunching at left-over potato salad with nothing but a single knife.

Day 4

Holmes is indignant at my using surgical tools to cheat at the Washing Up Game. This afternoon I stood in a puddle in the kitchen, summoned by a growl to dry the dishes. The pile was enormous and Holmes at first rolled up his sleeves, then became so wet that he had to remove the shirt entirely. He says he can still feel grime up his arms and the soap has made him come up in a rash. I'm glad to be back in my department sorting it but I'm sure that the skin condition is somehow self-inflicted.

Day 5

This evening Holmes smoked six pipes before I got up and I thought the house was on fire. At the end he muttered something about a fantastic idea. I suddenly have great faith in the man. I'm sure desperation has caused this.

Day 6

Why Holmes or I didn't think of a hotel before I don't know. Comfortably bedded, hygienically clothed and tastefully fed.

Day 7

Mad dash as we try to pretend we've been cleaning up after ourselves all week before Mrs H gets home… Holmes is calling must dash.