PLEASE READ::: Hello! This Chapter is a bit different because as well as doing my one shots I wanted to make a multi chapter thing. But this depends entirely on YOU! YES YOU! Basically, you control what happens by sending ideas or prompts via review. Ok?

Got it? Do it!

The Doctors: Due Date Part 1

"John?" The clip voice of a fretful Mrs Hudson rang through the mobile speaker. He'd answered the call against his better judgement. He sighed against the speaker, his head resting on his arm as he sat at his desk after attempt 36.

"Hello, Mrs Hudson." He said, his voice still managing to break despite all his will. Damn.

"Hello, dear. How are you?" The old lady's voice was filled with concern and John could imagine her sat in next door's café on one on the smaller tables decorated with a plastic checked tablecloth. The phone pressed to her ear by a wrinkled and delicate hand and her eyes forcefully staring out, not looking at the married owner, because all though he had lied to her they did make a good cuppa. John gave a small smile as he replied.

"Same as ever, Mrs Hudson." He realised then he did not know her first name. The landlord had given no name on the lease or even an initial. Sherlock would have known. Of course.

"That's good." The tone made him question whether or not she believed him. He stretched in the armchair, a hand absentmindedly moving over to the cane that hung on the armrest.

"Is…is there a reason you called?" He murmured.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. You see, there is all this stuff…left. Sherlock's- "John sucked in a breath. "-stuff and I was wondering if you could come and collect it. The stench is terrible and I can't rent out the place if there is a decapitated head in the fridge, can I?" Mrs Hudson rambled on. Funny. John was smiling. Odd. Very Odd.

"So, I say to the tenant next to you that he'll have to put up with it, that the man better watch his tone because I won't have him…John?" He was brought back out from the deep clouds of his thought.

I was wondering if you could come and collect it.

"Hmm? Oh…yeah…yeah." He said, he blinked rapidly. He had not been sleeping well. And by well he meant at all. Nightmares.

"Oh, good." Said Mrs Hudson, pleased. "Oh and John?" He switched his attention back to the voice. It didn't sound good. He didn't want her to ask how he was again. He couldn't answer. He had no idea and he didn't like lying to the chirpy landlady.

"Yes?" He said, cautiously.

"How are you?" He blinked.

"I...said." He stated slowly.

"No you didn't." Mrs Hudson was wise, John wasn't coping well. She'd checked with his therapist. But she wasn't his mother, mind. She was his friend. He hadn't gone to the last few. And his answer before was vague and pitiful. Same as when?

"Mrs Hudson" He started to say but the lady cut in with a passionate tone.

"Don't you Mrs Hudson me. I lost a husband and even though he was a criminal and I hated his guts. Oh, he was a funny man. But the point is it still hurt. I was glad to be rid of the ungrateful bugger but it hurt-"

"Stop…stop, Mrs Hudson." She stopped. "I am…fine. As well as can be expected." He cleared his throat. "I'll collect the…the things."

There you have it! Its a bit short and I hope I got Mrs Hudson OK. Anyway, send in your prompt via review or PM me