Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock

So here's Chapter 2! thank you to everyone that reviewed, favourited or followed; it's really encouraging!

Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Mrs Hudson

She was woken up by the ringing of her phone, whilst a bright sun shone from outside her drawn curtains. Sighing, she slowly rose from her bed, being careful of her hip, and grabbing her dressing gown from the peg on the door she walked as quickly as she could to her phone in the kitchen. Unless it was a cold caller, it must be important if someone was phoning her at this hour.

"Hello?" She answered, fighting down a yawn.

"Mrs Hudson, hi." John sounded choked up and tired; this sent a sense of dread through Mrs Hudson.

"John? What's the matter?" ('Oh god, something's happened to one of my boys')

"It's umm….it's Sherlock, Mrs Hudson he's ermm…he's been shot." From the tone of John's voice Mrs Hudson could tell this was completely serious. She was fully awake now, shock eating at her brain.

"Oh god, how is he?"

"He's only just got out of surgery, but he's pulled through. He's asleep at the moment." Mrs Hudson felt tears well up in her eyes.

"Oh, John." His name came out as a sob.

"It's okay, Mrs Hudson, he's going to be okay." John's relief was evident, and Mrs Hudson could empathise with John, feeling pity for him; having to through all this alone.

"Oh, John," She repeated, "Right, I'll be over there as soon as I can." John gave her the name of the hospital and she was just about to put down the phone, sending her love, when she added as an after thought, "I'll bring some flowers; to brighten up his room." John had sounded rather amused when he'd said farewell, and it occurred to Mrs Hudson that Sherlock probably wouldn't have cared about flowers to brighten up his room. 'Well tough, he's going to get flowers if he insists on getting shot.'

Mrs Hudson had to sit down for a moment whilst getting ready, the full realisation of what had happened hitting her like a brick. Sherlock, her Sherlock, had been shot and had had to have surgery. It had been that bad. Mrs Hudson had always had a fear every time Sherlock and John had gone out on a dangerous case that one of them would end up seriously injured, and that time had finally come. She had always imagined that she would feel a crippling anxiety, but this was so much worse than that. John had told her that Sherlock would be fine, and for that she was beyond grateful, but the fact that this had actually happened was overwhelming. Pulling herself together she hastily wiped away her tears and getting up from her bed she rushed to the hospital.

It took her a long while to actually get to the hospital, traffic along with having to stop for flowers, and by the time she arrived the sun had risen well into the sky. After inquiring where Sherlock's room was, she climbed a large flight of stairs to find John standing by the railing at the top, looking haggard but relieved.

"Mrs Hudson!" He exclaimed, looking surprised to see her.

"Oh John." She gave him a big hug while trying to not to squish her flowers, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"How is he, John?" she asked once they'd pulled away from each other. John nodded, "Yeah, yeah he's as fine as he can be, Mary's with him at the moment but she'll be out in a mo."

"And how are you, John?"

"Me? I'm fine, Mrs Hudson. Just a bit…" John trailed off, looking down. Mrs Hudson patted his arm, knowing how his unfinished sentence would have ended. It must've been hard for John to describe what he was feeling.

"Nice flowers," John said after a moment of silence, and Mrs Hudson inspected her choice: rhododendrons.

"Yes, I'm sure he'll appreciate them very much." She replied sarcastically, and John smiled ('that's better').

The door behind them opened and Mary came out, looking a little shaken but relieved.

"Mrs Hudson." She said in the same tone as John had.

"Alright?" John asked, putting an arm around her.

"Yeah, I think he went to sleep again; he was really out of it."

Mrs Hudson's stomach gave a pang of worry instinctually.

"John, I'm going to go down to the cafeteria for a coffee." Mary said, "are you coming or…?"

"I'll just stay with Mrs Hudson and check up on him and then I might." John didn't sound keen on leaving Sherlock for long, but with Mary being the angel she was she understood completely. Mrs Hudson smiled seeing Mary nod and give John a brief kiss ('oh, they are so perfect for each other'). Shooting Mrs Hudson a quick smile, she left for the cafeteria.

"Okay?" John asked her. She nodded, and they both entered Sherlock's room.

A steady beeping welcomed them, and tears welled up in Mrs Hudson's eyes as she set her eyes upon Sherlock. He was far too pale and slack, almost sinking into the bed. His chest rose and fell evenly while he slept. And then she noticed the bandage.

"Is that where….?"

John nodded, "yeah," It was far too close to Sherlock's heart for Mrs Hudson's liking, and John's too apparently. Mrs Hudson went to sit down in the chair by his bed while John checked Sherlock's vitals. Mrs Hudson placed the flowers in a convenient vase on the bedside table.

"There, that's nice." She said, rearranging them a little.

John smiled, "Lovely, Mrs H."

After a moment, Mrs Hudson turned to him, taking a deep breath. "John, how did it happen?"

John crossed him arms, looking at Sherlock before beginning. "Well, we'd broken into Magnussen's office, he'd disappeared upstairs, I heard a gunshot, and I went up there and ermm… I found him."

Mrs Hudson gave into the urge to grab hold of Sherlock's hand, and the man didn't protest, knocked out by the drugs. "Do you know who shot him?" She asked.

John shook his head, "No, not yet, but we will." John sounded angry and tense, and Mrs Hudson felt extremely bad for the man; his best friend had by some miracle returned from the dead and now he had almost gone back there again. For good this time.

"John," She said softly, "go to Mary, I'll be fine here."

John smiled at her, grateful for her empathy, "You sure, Mrs H?"

"Of course, you go John." He smiled at her, and with one last look at Sherlock from the door, he left.

Mrs Hudson sat there for a while, not talking but listening to the steady beat of the heart monitor instead, stroking Sherlock's hand slightly. It was strange to see him not talking or moving, but just lying there.

"Oh you silly boy." She muttered, "Getting yourself shot like that. Think what you've done to poor John, making him worry. Never do that again, young man." Sherlock just kept sleeping.

"You have to be nice to me for at least a month now, Sherlock, and I can make you come down for a cup of tea anytime I like." She ordered, even though Sherlock couldn't protest. She stared at him for a moment, at his far too pale and lax face and found herself suddenly breaking down into sobs. Her Sherlock had been shot. Shot. The man could be incredibly rude and aggravating at times, she herself being victim to some of his many attacks, and yes, he did absolutely ridiculous things, but not even Sherlock Holmes deserved to be shot. Underneath all that…..Sherlockness he could be really charming and human, something Mrs Hudson had no trouble in finding in him.

At the sound of Mrs Hudson's choked sobs Sherlock's head shifted to the side a little and a small frown formed on his forehead. Mrs Hudson looked up with a hopeful face, "Sherlock?" she asked. The detective's eyes opened a sliver, looking unfocussed and glassy. Clearly Sherlock was not all there. Mrs Hudson gasped slightly, her sobs still continuing, and Sherlock's gaze dragged slowly over to where she sat. She squeezed his hand tightly and he frowned again, trying to discern who it was that was sat next to him.

"Oh, Sherlock," Mrs Hudson smiled slightly, "Just go back to sleep, dear, I'll be right here." It felt strange to be comforting Sherlock like that, but he looked like he needed it. Sherlock's eyes closed without resistance, and the frown soon disappeared as he slipped peacefully into sleep. Mrs Hudson smiled at the sight before gently reaching up and brushing a lock away from where it had fallen across Sherlock's forehead.

She stayed there, stroking his hand gently, for what seemed like hours until John came in. He smiled at the sight of Mrs Hudson's affection for Sherlock. John could tell she treated Sherlock like a son (and John too really) and he was glad he had given her the time to be with him.

Mrs Hudson left not long after, giving John a tight hug and the sleeping Sherlock a brief kiss on the cheek, feeling content that Sherlock would, in time, be okay.

I hope you liked it and thank you for reading! please review etc!

Happy reading, TheBritishBourbon x