From Domina Temporis: 221a Baker Street.
"I won't tolerate it another instant!" Mrs. Edwards said querulously. "When young Mrs. Hudson said she had found someone to rent 221B, I thought she meant a nice lawyer or a banker, not that, that...hooligan! Gunshots day and night, suspicious characters outside every hour, foul stenches wafting through the building. This is supposed to be a high-end res-id-dent-ial building, not a den of ill repute! And me with my poor back so inflamed..."
"But Mama…"
"Don't you 'Mama' me, Harriet," Mrs. Edwards said. Such an unfeeling child to care so little about her poor, aching bones. "That so-called 'consulting detective' was born for hanging, I say, and no newspaper article about him helping the police will ever convince me otherwise. If the whole of 221B were on flames, I wouldn't hail the fire brigade to put it out!"
This short-sighted comment was interrupted by the bell.
"Go see who that is, Harriet," Mrs. Edwards said, blinking owlishly behind her spectacles. "A girl like you of twenty-four has far more spring in her step than a poor old woman like myself. Such is the way of the young, always waiting for others to do it for you...oh, if only my poor back weren't so inflamed…Well, who is it, girl?"
"It's Dr. Watson, Mama. He says he has come to bring you something."
The old woman's manner changed entirely. One withered hand came up to pat her hair as she straightened in her chair. "Dr. Watson? Such kindness to a poor old woman, but I want nothing more than blessed silence from that jackanapes next door. Oh my back, my back and my poor hands! The curse of the old…"
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Edwards. And how are you today?" Dr. Watson smiled warmly at her as he doffed his hat. Mrs. Edwards had always secretly lamented that a young man with such a fine military bearing should have become a doctor, but at least he was dressed properly despite the short distance he'd had to travel.
She preened at such a willing audience. "And how would I be on such a cold day as this?" she demanded. "What with my poor old joints and my aching back? Ah, but a young man like you could never understand. And that Mr. Sherlock Holmes making such a racket!"
"That does sound intolerable, Mrs. Edwards," Dr. Watson said sympathetically. "You must be very patient to endure it so well."
She nodded tragically. "Oh I am, I am. I'm not like so many young people these days, unable to bear a little suffering."
"Oh, of course not, Mrs. Edwards." He went to his bag and produced a little wooden box. "However, I took the liberty of bringing you more balm to help you weather this cold more comfortably."
"A doctor should not take liberties," Mrs. Edward said severely, reaching out to take the box. "And no doubt it won't help. But thank you, Dr. Watson. It was kind of you to think of a poor old woman like me."
"It is good to know," she announced once Dr. Watson had made his pleasantries and left. "That some young people know how to treat their elders. Such a young, handsome man, pity he was forced to give up the army to be a doctor. Still..."
Carefully out of sight of her mother, Harriet smiled. There would be no more complaints about 221B for quite some time...
A/N: I decided it would be more fun to treat 221a like the apartment next door instead of just Mrs. Hudson's flat downstairs. Poor Mrs. Edwards. No doubt Holmes' racket increases the pain in her back!
