A/N: The recent trend of tipsy Watson and Lestrade has been so funny that I tcouldn't resist adding Holmes to the mix. Please read and review!
A Little Polluted (or Tempest in a Teapot)
Martha Hudson grinned to herself as another burst of raucous laughter sounded from upstairs. Her lodgers had returned from heaven knows where some time earlier, both in the state her grandfather had always called "a little polluted." The noise had awakened their landlady, who at first had thought the building under attack from a loud band of street ruffians. She was soon satisfied that this was not the case and had taken up a position of observation. A highly tolerant woman, Mrs. Hudson had simply watched from her room as the doctor and the detective lurched through the front door and stumbled arm in arm up the stairs to the sitting room, loudly shushing each other as they went. Satisfied that they had achieved the room without any damage to either themselves or the hallway wall, she had attempted to go back to bed. Two hours later she had given up the attempt to sleep, finally putting on her wrapper and going down to the kitchen to brew coffee and prepare an early breakfast for her two tenants.
Now as she worked she listened to their laughter and rather loud conversation with an indulgent smile. This was actually quite entertaining. Her tenants were usually the most reserved of men, not given to any disturbance. Or at least the doctor was reserved, she amended. Mr. Holmes was rather more energetic, and very capable of disturbing the entire street if he had a mind, but his demeanor this morning was out of character even for him. The men's infrequent descent into drink brought out their more boisterous qualities, she supposed.
Mrs. Hudson knew her lodgers had been involved in a long and arduous case. Though they might not realize it, she was very much aware of what went on upstairs in that sitting room. Not that she listened outside the door, of course; she would never stoop to such common practices. But she was an intelligent, capable woman, and she considered it part of her duty as landlady to keep an eye, and an ear, out for her tenants' well-being. Even though many would consider them the worst tenants in London, especially Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Hudson was quite fond of them both and did everything she could to look out for them, difficult though that sometimes was.
So she didn't mind if they occasionally came home a trifle more cheery than was usual. They deserved a bit of fun after a trying case.
And this case had been trying to say the least. A Mrs. Adams had consulted them almost a week ago about her missing husband. She'd actually had very little to tell them, and had been rather more distrait than was usual for their clients. Dr. Watson had been obliged to use his smelling-salts when Mrs. Adams had succumbed to her anxiety and swooned into Mr. Holmes' arms, very narrowly missing hitting her head on the mantelpiece in the process. After much chaos and scrambling about, and a good deal of noise, Mrs. Adams had calmed down enough to give the detective and the doctor the information they needed. Soon after her departure Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson had left the flat in a search for evidence, and had not returned till quite late that evening. They'd left again the following morning before she'd even put their coffee on, informing her on their way out the door not to expect them back for several days.
True to their word, they'd not returned for three days, looking much the worse for wear, and as though they'd not slept or eaten a bite since they left Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson had fussed over them, exclaiming over their wan appearance and filthy clothes, and subsequently provided some of their favorite foods to tempt their appetites. She'd spent the rest of the day attempting to get the various stains out of their trouser cuffs and shirt collars. She wasn't certain, but she could have sworn that the stains were more than red clay and mud; indeed, there were some spots that definitely looked like blood; but of course the doctor and detective denied that, and other than the glorious black eye Mr. Holmes sported, which he tried to explain away as the afteraffect of walking into a door, there wasn't a scratch on either man that she could see. Still, she had her suspicions and if she noticed that the doctor's limp was more pronounced and that Mr. Holmes seemed more careful in his movements than was typical, she didn't mention it.
Mrs. Adams had called again only yesterday, and apparently the matter of her husband's disappearance had been explained satisfactorily, as she left the flat in much better spirits than she had entered, and without the drama of her previous visit. Mrs. Hudson wasn't sure exactly what the outcome of the case had been, but she was only too glad to see the last of that particular woman, whose case had so monopolized her tenants' time and attention for the past week. Mrs. Hudson had served them a large supper that evening and had gone to her bed content in the knowledge that her two gentlemen were back where they should be and resting quietly after an arduous case.
But apparently they'd gone out again while she was asleep. How long they'd been gone she had no idea, but they'd awakened her when they returned in the wee hours of the morning, talking and laughing quite loudly and with much enthusiasm. Several thumps and crashes from the sitting room had made it quite impossible for her to return to sleep, and so she'd finally given up at about 4:00am, and gone downstairs to the kitchen. It sounded to her as if some coffee was definitely in order.
Finishing with her preparations, she placed everything on a tray and started up the stairs to the sitting room. Snatches of drunken singing came to her ears as she ascended, until finally a huge crash shocked her ears, signaling the demise of what she assumed was yet another of her china teapots which she'd unfortunately left in the room. Mrs. Hudson sighed, glad that it wasn't one of her better pieces, steeled her face to a stern look and knocked on the door.
She'd heard them whispering frantically to each other after the crash, but they broke off immediately upon her knock. There was dead quiet for a moment, and then softly but very clearly Mrs. Hudson heard Mr. Holmes exclaim "Bugger!"
There was another, softer and even more frantic whispered exchange before Dr. Watson's strained voice spoke up. "Er, yes?" he asked warily. Mrs. Hudson heard the sounds of panicked straightening-up, and as she opened the door was greeted with the sight of the usually straight-laced doctor and detective surreptitiously kicking pieces of the broken teapot under the settee, decidedly guilty looks on both their faces.
"Oh, hello Mrs. Hudson," Dr. Watson slurred, carefully avoiding meeting her eyes. "I hope we didn't wake you?" Mrs. Hudson could see that the doctor was a trifle unsteady on his feet, and was glad when he suddenly dropped into his armchair with a muffled groan, cradling his head in his hand.
"No, doctor, I'm always up at 5:00am" she responded severely, although she was secretly enjoying seeing her stoic lodgers in this quite amusing state. "I've brought you some coffee; it looks like you two need it." She looked meaningfully over at Mr. Holmes, who had abruptly collapsed half across the settee, and was already snoring gently.
"Mmm, yes, I do believe that would be a good idea." Dr. Watson had the grace to blush slightly as he took in her stern expression. He attempted to explain. "Holmes is just overly tired, Mrs. Hudson. You know he doesn't sleep when he's involved in a case. And it's been a long few days. But the case is solved, and … er… well, we just went out to the Bird and Bear for a bit. We really had no idea it was so late, er, early, that is" he amended, as she raised her eyebrow questioningly. "And I guess we've had a trifle too much to drink." Dr. Watson stifled a hiccup at this and subsided back into his armchair with a soft moan.
"Quite so, doctor" Mrs. Hudson answered, putting the tray down on the cluttered table, and moving several tottering stacks of paper so she could lay out the plates and cups. Glancing over at the doctor, she noted his pointed glares at Mr. Holmes and his desperate hand gestures indicating that the broken china was still visible. She turned quickly back to the table to hide her amusement and carefully schooled her face back into its severe expression. She turned back to the doctor a moment later to see him kneading at his temples. Seeing his obvious look of pain, she relented a little and flashed him a quick smile, which he returned a trifle sheepishly.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I suppose we were a little loud this morning. But I can assure you that we will be very quiet the rest of the day. This bit of indiscretion will take some time to get over, believe me." The doctor smiled ruefully, and Mrs. Hudson patted his arm as she passed him on the way out the door. From the corner of her eye she noted that Mr. Holmes had stopped feigning snoring and was peering at her through slitted eyes while attempting to hide the teapot pieces with his feet.
"That's all right, doctor" she answered with an indulgent look. "You and Mr. Holmes just get some rest, and I'll have a nice lunch waiting for you later." She heard his stealthy sigh of obvious relief and paused, glancing back at him from the doorway. Seeing his slightly green countenance, and thoroughly enjoying herself, she just couldn't resist a parting shot. "But don't think you'll be getting off that easily" she said, looking pointedly at the shattered pieces of china still partially visible under the settee. "That's the third teapot you gentlemen have smashed this month. I will be expecting a new one. This afternoon," she finished with a triumphant grin, quickly closing the door on the doctor's bleary astonishment.
From behind the door there was a moment of silence, and then she heard the detective's fervent and heartfelt "Bugger!"
This is my small attempt at humor. Not sure if it was successful, but I feel like I'm mired down in angst sometimes.