"Well?" asked Mrs Hudson over the Eastenders credits.
"Well, I went to see her."
"And?"
"They are really impressed with her progress. We had a chat. Nice girl. Met her parents."
"Ooh. That was quick. I hope they were grateful for what you did."
"They were. As was someone else." He took a drink of his coffee. "Mycroft."
"What did he want?"
"He's Agnes' godfather, Appears to be very fond of her, as much as he can be of anyone."
"What are her parents like?"
"Only met them briefly. Mother seems nice enough. Her father works for the Home Office- I guess that is where the Mycroft connection comes in."
"Well, are you going to see her again?"
"I said I'd drop past tomorrow. She said she needed some respite from daytime television.
"See," said Mrs Hudson with a hint of hope in her voice. "Well worth changing your shirt. Baby steps are better than none."
John pulled a face, but he knew she was right. "We'll see. I've got a day off tomorrow. I've got a mountain of washing to sort out. I'll drop past in a couple of days."
"Ok dear. Take care."
John plodded upstairs and unlocked his door. The flat smelt of synthetic flowers. He flicked the light switch to find that the sofa was covered in neatly stacked washing. Mrs Hudson had obviously been very busy while he was out. No wonder she had sent him to Tesco.
Agnes lay back on her pillows, trying to find the most comfortable position. Not particularly easy. The gradual reduction of her pain relief had meant that she was becoming more aware of her injuries. Her bruises were developing, especially across her back, although she was yet to see them.
Her parents had spent an hour with her. They had brought fresh nightclothes as well as news of Ethel, who seemed none the worse for wear for not seeing her. Fickle creature.
She was about to switch off the light when there was a knock at the door. "Come in," she said quietly. A tall man in a brown suit slipped in, carrying an elegant arrangement of purple irises. He placed them on her bedside. "How are you feeling, my dear?" he asked.
"I've been better, but everyone's been so kind."
"You have given us quite a scare. I would have come sooner, but I felt best to wait until your parents had been. I didn't want to crowd the situation."
"Thanks." She didn't quite know how to phrase the next question. "Is John Watson who I think he is?"
"Yes."
"Thought I recognised him from the media coverage. He was on my train, looking utterly exhausted. When we were evacuated at Euston, I found myself behind him on the escalator. Poor guy was about to have a panic attack. I managed to keep him upright until we got safely to the ticket hall, then left him to regain his composure. It didn't seem the right time to talk, if I'm honest. I didn't know what to say. "
"When did see him again?"
"At the Tottenham Court Road junction. There was a quite a crowd of people who'd come off the Tube, wandering along in small groups. I became aware of him glancing across at me, more out of curiosity than anything else. I wanted to get home to Ethel which was why I sped up. I never saw those cars. They jumped the lights. I remember the glare of the headlights, and the screech of the brakes. My scarf fell off and I was knocked flying.
"I was on my back in the tarmac. My head span, and I so wanted to sleep, but I then I felt someone touch the side of my neck, then pick up my hand. He kept saying 'Don't worry, help's coming. Keep squeezing my hand. You've been hit by a car, but you'll be alright. Hold on' - So I did,."
"Did he know you were behind him on the escalator?"
"He suspected, I think but didn't say anything. He didn't leave me until the paramedics arrived, and only left when he got ordered away to get checked out."
Mycroft had been listening in utter stillness, He realised that he another reason to be grateful to John, and regretted being so high-handed earlier.
"What did your parents make of him?"
Mum was delighted. She liked the look of him. Lovely manners, she said. Dad was quieter. He said they'd spoken briefly. John said he's come back tomorrow. I hope he does."
"He will. He's a man of his word. But be careful. He has felt Sherlock's loss deeply."
"He mentioned it in passing, but I didn't want to press him. it just wasn't fair. Does he know about you?"
"I spoke to him this afternoon. He wasn't best pleased to see me. He still blames me for what happened to Sherlock and he still has got some way to go."
"So are you adding matchmaker to your official roles?" Mycroft almost smiled.
"Not quite, but do your best to befriend him. He doesn't make friends easily, but he's loyal and he's fair. Both of you have spent far too long alone lately."
"Is that an order? "
"More like Godfatherly advice. Now go to sleep." He leant across and gently kissed her unbruised cheek.
"Yes, Godpappa. Goodnight."
"Goodnight my dear." Mycroft slipped down the corridor to the lift. He hoped that some of his advice would be taken.
