The December 10th prompt, as assigned by Sparky Dorian: "Mrs. Hudson's niece comes to stay."
The sight of a very attractive, very young woman standing in the kitchen of 221B Baker Street gave Wiggins pause as he passed through to make a report to Mr. Holmes. He'd seen women in the flat as clients, but never had he seen anyone down here, certainly not in the kitchen. No fine lady would lower herself to that. And yet here she was, as fine a lady as he had ever seen, arms covered in baking flour and a smile on her perfectly red lips…
She was laughing and speaking with Mrs. Hudson, though her words were not registering in his mind. All he could see was her face, and how lovely she was. Her hair, the way the dark strands reflected in the light from the hearth, her pale skin… her dark green dress, covered by a filthy apron.
"Davey Wiggins? Is that you?"
He jumped out of his boots as Mrs. Hudson's voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized that he was standing almost entirely within the doorframe as he stared. He blushed scarlet, coming forward into the light because he knew what would happen if he didn't listen to Mrs. Hudson. "Yes, Mrs. H. It's me."
Mrs. Hudson chuckled at him, nodding over to the woman who was helping her bake. "This is my niece, Miss Frieda Dyers. She's come to stay with me for a few days to help me with my cooking before the holidays. Frieda, this is Davey Wiggins, an associate of Mr. Holmes."
The girl smiled at him, wiping her hands on her apron and turning to look at him. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wiggins."
He gawked at her for a moment before he remembered which way was up and hastily attempted to scour his own hand on his smoky jacket. Shaking her hand, he tried to play it down and smile coolly at her. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Dyers."
She smiled again before going back to her work, apparently set to resume her conversation with Mrs. Hudson. And before the elder woman went back to work, she looked over at Wiggins and shook her head amusedly. "I do believe that she's a bit too much for you, my dear. Spoken for."
"Of course she is," said Wiggins, not really having heard a word that she'd just said. Then it registered and he looked up at Mrs. Hudson in horror. "You mean…"
"Yes, I'm afraid that I do." And she looked regretful too.
"Oh, that's fine. Perfectly fine." And as Wiggins trooped up the stairs to Mr. Holmes' flat, he tried his best not to look back. Maybe there was still a chance… if he set his mind to it.