Sherlock stormed into the flat and flopped down on the sofa. John didn't need to be a genius to work out that he had had a bad day. For the next twenty minutes Sherlock lay in a huff and refused to speak. John waited for the onslaught to come and eventually came.
"How can some people be so ridiculously stupid and refuse to let me inside their establishment when it is very obvious that there is illegal activity of the drug related kind going on right under their noses. Some people need to realise that when I show up it is IMPORTANT!"
Sherlock was angry and John hated when he was like this because it made him more unbearable than usual. There would be very little chance of John getting any sleep as the violin would be played all night. He decided then to get ahead of the game and go to bed early enough to get at least an hour or two before the concert began.
"I'll just leave you to it then" said John getting up out of his armchair. Sherlock ignored him completely and John wondered why he even bothered. Sometimes it would be so much easier if he was sharing a flat with someone else…someone less dramatic and also less childish.
Two hours later John was woken by the concert and he felt bad not because it had woken him up but because it would have more than likely woken Mrs. Hudson up. Now there was a woman who endured her share of suffering with the great Sherlock Holmes. Any other landlady would have kicked Sherlock out by now but not Mrs. Hudson. She was very liberal with Sherlock's antics and no matter how many times she uttered the phrase "not your housekeeper" she still got Sherlock, and John, anything they might need.
She was a force to be reckoned with and John would not like to be on the wrong side of Sherlock if someone mistreated her. He had been there the time Mycroft had told her to shut up after all. Their relationship mystified John in some respects. It was as if she was a mother to Sherlock in some ways and Sherlock was as equally protective of her as he would be off is own mother. He often wondered how this had come about. Yes, Sherlock had helped her out with her husband but there must have been something more.
John stopped thinking for a minute as it appeared the music had changed. It was more peaceful and relaxing now, not angry and manic. John listened closely and realised that there were voices coming from downstairs. Curiousity got the better of him and he pulled on a dressing gown. When he reached the door to the sitting room he saw that Sherlock was sitting on the sofa and was no longer playing the violin. The one and only Mrs. Hudson at his side, head lying on his shoulder. This was very strange to behold. Somehow, she had managed the impossible. Sherlock was calm and not only that; he was laughing.
"Come in John", Sherlock said noticing John for the first time, "Mrs. Hudson was just telling me a story about…well better not ruin it. I'll let her tell it herself."
John decided not to question this moment of humanity coming from Sherlock and instead sat down in his armchair and listened to Mrs. Hudson tell some fantastic stories from her younger days.
As John made his way back up the stairs at two in the morning he couldn't help but feel that he had just gotten a snippet more insight into the relationship between Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. He slept well that night knowing that the detective would not continue his manic concert for some time.