Mrs. Hudson is confused
I don't know anything about chickens, but I can't cross streets anymore, not with my hip. Not that I would ever have time to. It seems like all I do after these days is pick up after Sherlock. Chemical stains on the table, heaps and heaps of newspapers one day. I asked him was he reading them, and he gave me this look like I was insane. Read newspapers? Whatever for? You get the news, I said, like that thing that happened with all the chickens. Mrs. Hudson, he said, I don't read the news. I make the news. Which makes me think he had something to do with the chickens, though it was all hushed up by some government agency. But it wasn't quite decent, how gleeful he was about it. The only time he gets like that is when somebody dies, or when he puts one over on Mycroft, which doesn't happen as often as he might wish, I might add. But what would Mycroft have to do with chickens?