Prompt: Mrs. Hudson: Criminal Mastermind, from sirensbane
Mrs. Hudson of 221a Baker Street didn't think of herself as anything but ordinary. She had been a perfectly respectable wife and now was a perfectly respectable widow who took in lodgers to help her afford the home she hadn't wanted to lose (and to keep herself busy, if she was honest).
It was her lodgers that were anything but ordinary, and before long Mrs. Hudson found herself the object of unusual stares and whispers behind her neighbors' hands, the same as Dr. Watson.
"How does she do it?"
"Lord knows. Did you hear him, wailing away on that violin at 3 in the morning? I couldn't get Johnny to calm down for an hour!"
No one would dare whisper behind their hands at Mr. Holmes himself, of course. Odds were that he'd know what they were saying anyway. People on Baker Street were more than a little intimidated by their resident consulting detective, something Mrs. Hudson more than understood. She was used to his strange moods and odd hours, and she had, after all, seen him get as excited as any child when presented with her famous raspberry tarts, but there were times she still couldn't help but be somewhat in awe of him.
But what went on at 221b was their business, and hers was running as ordinary and respectable a house as any on the street. Especially because of Mr. Holmes; one never knew when a lord would be dropping by to call on him. It wouldn't do to have the world's most famous detective living in the sort of squalor he remembered from Montague Street.
"Morning, Emily," Mrs. Hudson called as she walked into the kitchen of 220 across the street. "I only wanted to know if I could borrow an egg. I find I'm short. I'm sure it ended up in some experiment or another."
"Of course you may, Martha," her neighbor answered. "It's the least I could do after you sent Dr. Watson over here yesterday to see to Martin's leg. And right after he'd already finished his rounds too!"
Mrs. Hudson smiled and thanked her, grateful that her neighbors still saw fit to lend her ingredients and kitchen supplies since she could so rarely return the favor. She could never be sure which of her utensils had last been used in the morgue of St. Bart's and ingredients disappeared faster than she could use them, a side effect of having a constant stream of dirty little boys trooping through the house on their way to report to Mr. Holmes. But what she did have was a doctor and a detective with far too much time on their hands, and she lent them out as she saw fit. Dr. Watson was always pleased to see to any small medical needs their neighbors might have, and if Mr. Holmes objected to being called for to find lost ladles, well, she merely had to point to the bullet holes in the wall for him to meekly agree. "How is Martin's leg, anyway?" The lad had cut it rather deeply yesterday, though Dr. Watson stitched it up nicely and promised to keep an eye on it.
"It's healing fine," Emily said. "I'm more worried about his shoes! He bled all over them and it's stuck. It'll stain and we can't get him new ones until he grows out of these." She showed Mrs. Hudson where she was attempting to scrub off the bloodstain.
"Oh, you should have treated it right away," Mrs. Hudson said. "But never mind. A solution of hydrogen peroxide will do it. A few drops, then wipe it away with water and they'll be good as new."
Emily looked at her in confusion. "Isn't that the stuff they use to bleach hats?"
"Oh, it's got many uses," Mrs. Hudson said. "It's not the first time I've had to clean up bloodstains!" She turned to see her neighbor looking more than a little horrified, and finally remembered that not every woman on the street had to clean up after her lodgers returned home from a knife fight. Or from the time Mr. Holmes thought to practice fencing and slipped on the pile of papers on the floor, nearly sticking his rapier through his own foot. More fool him, she'd thought at the time, for refusing to take off his slippers before playing with weapons.
"I imagine that comes in useful," Emily finally mumbled, before Mrs. Hudson took herself back home, where she found Dr. Watson coming down the stairs with his arms full of papers. A crash from upstairs told her they were cleaning. This would not be an ordinary result of something so simple as cleaning, but the sitting room of 221b was so messy that cleaning it out created more mess before it was put away again, and somehow one or the other of them always ended up hurting themselves before the ordeal was finished. It never lasted either; she wasn't entirely sure why she bothered.
"Do make sure he doesn't kill himself, Doctor," was all Mrs. Hudson said as she passed by.
"I shall try," the poor fellow answered. "I, er, wouldn't go upstairs right now if I were you."
"Certainly not," Mrs. Hudson said, heading into the kitchen to make her famous raspberry tarts.
A week or so later, Mrs. Hudson was having a visit with Julia Turner from next door when her own lodger, Mr. Potter the junior banker, hurried in looking disheveled. "I'm so sorry, I shall not be in for dinner tonight. I've been called into work most urgently."
"But it's Saturday!" Julia said. "I was making a pot roast."
"I'm so sorry. It seems that the bank has discovered a discrepancy with an account and it appears as if there has been some illegal action." The poor man was so distraught that he actually held the requisite papers in one hand.
"Do let me see," said Mrs. Hudson, and it was a mark of how upset he was that he simply handed them over without a word. Mrs. Hudson surveyed the unknown man's finances and soon realized what was amiss. "There's nothing at all wrong here. The man in question is simply cagey with his assets, moving them from one account to another to hide his true worth. He must be afeared that someone is seeking to claim his wealth. Perhaps a future inheritor, even. It's quite common among the wealthier sorts of gangs. Opium runners and the like."
Stunned silence followed this speech. Julia and Mr. Potter were simply looking at her in disbelief. Mrs. Hudson shrugged her shoulders. "I once saw Mr. Holmes take down an entire ring of smugglers without ever leaving his rooms. All he did was look through their financials." Just because he preferred to solve a case through deduction did not mean he could not reason his way through other means of solving a case. She had been the lucky recipient of his explanation on that occasion because the Doctor had been so bored with it he'd fallen asleep halfway through. Poor fellow had no head for finances.
"Oh," Mr. Potter said. "Well, thank you, Mrs. Hudson, very much indeed. This will make things very simple at the office. You have quite saved the day."
"Oh, it was nothing at all," Mrs. Hudson said. Perhaps she could understand why Mr. Holmes so disliked receiving credit for his cases; Mr. Potter was looking at her as if she could walk on water. "I should be getting back, Julia. I can smell the chemicals from here. If I'm not careful he'll blow up the house."
Some weeks later, Mrs. Hudson, Emily and Julia were out shopping, a large enough trip that they had endeavoured to take the omnibus, which was proving quite a struggle with all their parcels. "Would you rather just get out and walk?" Julia finally asked. "It's a nice day and we've nowhere to be."
"Anything's better than being crowded onto this contraption," Mrs. Hudson agreed. Still, it was no easy feat to walk through the streets with all their bags, and they often took up the entire sidewalk, forcing other passersby to walk around them or push past them. One such of these, a boy no more than eight, caught Mrs. Hudson's eyes by his familiarity.
"Oh, no!" Emily cried out a moment later, looking through her packages. "The smallest package, my mother's ring I had to get resized. It's gone!"
"I wager that lad took it. You shouldn't have been holding that on the outside," Julia said, though Mrs. Hudson thought there was no use in remonstrating her. Poor Emily was nearly distraught with the loss.
She steeled herself and marched up to the lad, who was opening his prize off in a nearby alley. "Ronald Bailey, hand that over. Or I'll tell Mr. Holmes I've caught you pickpocketing again!"
Little Ronald, who was indeed one of Mr. Holmes's Baker Street Irregulars, looked up, immediately contrite. "Mrs. H.! I didn't mean - er, well, I'm sorry." He handed over the bag, looking sad enough that Mr. Hudson found it difficult to be angry.
She did, however, make sure that the ring was still safe in its box. "Well, it's alright now. No harm done."
"You won't tell Mr. Holmes?" Ronald asked hopefully.
"Not this time," she said warningly.
"He didn't say we couldn't pickpocket no more," Ronald said. "Just not you or the Doctor. Sorry I didn't see you."
"Hmm, or himself, I wager."
Ronald looked up at her with a smile. "Mr. Holmes said if any of us could pickpocket him without him telling he'd know he should retire!"
Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Well, that's true enough. Off you go, lad. Next time you're at Baker Street I'll have some biscuits for you."
Ronald ran off and Mrs. Hudson hurried back to her friends, handing Emily back her ring. "There you go, dear," she said."
"Oh, Martha! Thank you!" Emily cried. "However did you manage to get it off of him. Those street boys are as vicious as anything!"
Mrs. Hudson laughed out loud. "Vicious? Why, that's Ronald Bailey. He works for Mr. Holmes. Plenty of them do. They're not bad lads."
"They listen to you?" Julia asked.
"Of course! They know Mr. Holmes would be angry if they didn't and besides, I'm always giving them treats. Poor boys need some feeding."
"You know, Martha, between this and helping me clean up the bloodstains on Martin's shoes, well, if I didn't know you knew it all because of Mr. Holmes, I might wonder about you!" Emily said.
"Oh, that's nothing," Julia added. "You should have seen her explain how to hide illegal money laundering in one's financial records. You know everything it would take to be a criminal mastermind, Martha!"
Mrs. Hudson laughed out loud. "Well, sometimes that's what's needed to corral Mr. Holmes and the Doctor, though it's a good thing for him that I'm not! It's all due to him, you know."
"Well, he'd have made a fair criminal himself and no mistake," Julia said. Mrs. Hudson could not argue the fact. She was just as certain that had he turned his attentions to criminal activity rather than fighting it, there was no force that could have stopped him. They all ought to be grateful he was on the side of the law.
Still, the idea of her being a criminal mastermind was nothing but funny, and Mr. Holmes thought so too when she told him later.
"Why, Mrs. Hudson, I ought to keep you on retainer, if your skill set has expanded."
"You do keep me on retainer, Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Hudson responded calmly. "Or else I'm not sure what it is you're paying me for." At which the Doctor snorted into his soup and she went downstairs, contemplating whether being a criminal mastermind could be any more difficult than what she was already doing.