From Book girl fan: "I can say with absolute certainty, Mrs. Hudson will not be expecting that."


When I first began accompanying Holmes on his cases, I will admit that I did not endorse his use of the dirty little street Arabs known as the Irregulars. I thought them dirty, ill-mannered, and no doubt minor criminals themselves. There was some truth in this, of course; in the harsh world that they inhabited, many of the boys had few options but to steal in order to survive, and manners and cleanliness rarely earned them more than a beating. Yet as the years passed, I also found them brave, loyal, and every bit as useful as Holmes had once assured me. Even Mrs. Hudson grew fond of them with time, and it was not unknown for her to slip them bits of sweets whenever they dropped by to report at Baker Street.

However, it was not until March 14, 18- that we learned how much these fond feelings were returned.

Holmes and I were just returning from a walk - it was an unseasonably warm and pleasant Sunday afternoon for mid-March, and though Holmes currently had no case, he had not yet lapsed into the horrible black moods that often consumed him. As we approached 221B, we noticed a cluster of Irregulars bundled together on the steps, evidently engaged in some sort of fierce debate. At the sound of our approach, they sprang apart and stood looking at us guiltily.

"How now, Wiggins," Holmes said sternly. "What is all this?"

Holmes' masterful manner had its usual effect: Wiggins, the self-proclaimed leader of the Irregulars, shuffled forward, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Well, Mr. 'olmes, it's like this. A few of us got Mrs. 'udson sum April Showers since it's Mothering Sunday and all... you know, ter thank 'her for the sweets, and we were just debatin' 'oo would ring the bell to give them ter 'er." To illustrate, little Georgie shyly showed me the small bouquet of mismatched flowers he'd been hiding behind his back.

Any hint of amusement on my part would have sent them away at once. "It is a thorny problem," I said solemnly before Holmes could reply. "What if I were to ring the bell and you could all give them to her all at once?"

Wiggins eyed me suspiciously for a moment before conceding that this would be acceptable.

"I can say with absolute certainty, Mrs. Hudson will not be expecting that," Holmes murmured to me as each boy scrambled to lay his hand at the base of the bouquet.

"It is very kind of them, Holmes," I retorted, also in a whisper. "No doubt it took some time for them to find flowers that were not crushed."

However, there was no time to say more, for by this time all the boys were in place. I waited to be sure that all were ready, then soberly stepped forward to do my duty. As I had suspected, Mrs. Hudson had given the maid the day off to visit her own family, and so it was the lady of the house herself who opened the door. She looked very surprised to have a bouquet unceremoniously thrust at her by a dozen pairs of hands and to be greeted by the ragged chorus of "Happy Mothering Day, Mrs. 'udson!"

Once she realized what was happening, of course, our inestimable landlady rose to the challenge. She thanked them graciously and wondered aloud if any of them would like to help her finish off a few lemon drops while she "looked for a vase to put these lovely flowers in water."

That chorus was enthusiastic enough to be heard all the way out on Marylebone Street.


A/N: None of these feel like my best writing, but I am determined to not fall too far behind this year, busy life not withstanding. As always, I appreciate your support!