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Nobody is allowed to hurt Mrs. Hudson.
She's Sherlock's landlady, and he's her tenant. And she's certainly not his housekeeper. But there's more than that. She's the lady that tolerates the skull on the mantelpiece, the mess in the flat, the bullets in the wall.
There's a mark on her face and blood on the American's hands. Sherlock's filled with a rage he doesn't know. She was Mrs. Hudson, you can't – don't – lay a finger on Mrs. Hudson.
The man falls out of a window, Sherlock loses count of how many times.
Nobody touches Mrs. Hudson without his permission. Nobody.
