"Really, I'm fine, boys," Mrs Hudson said to her to worried lodgers. "I'm alright now."
"Mrs Hudson, a sprained wrist and bruising is not alright," Watson told her as he put a cast on her wrist. "This is serious." He stood back and looked at her warningly. "Now, you won't be doing any more housework for the next few days, but you should recover soon. Until then, please don't use that wrist."
He glanced at Holmes, who was searching the rooms for any trace of the intruders, furious at the injury to his housekeeper. "Holmes?"
"Three young men, most likely on a dare, inexperienced. Came from Campen Street, the dirt is distinctive. Left no more than an hour ago, they will not have had time to dispose of the evidence yet." Holmes spouted all this as he turned to the door, calling after him, "Coming, Watson?"
"I'll be right down," Watson called down the stairs. He turned back to Mrs Hudson. "I expect you to be careful, or Holmes might be making breakfast," Watson tried to joke, but Mrs Hudson could see that he was worried and disturbed by the break in, and her resulting injuries.
"I'll be fine, Doctor," she reassured him.
He nodded quickly, and followed after Holmes. She smiled. It was times like these, she loved her boys.
