Why London Has Yet to Fall

Genre: Family, humour

Pairings:Greg and Molly, John and Alex, background

Main characters:Greg, Mrs. Hudson

Mrs. Hudson's frown was turning into a scowl.

She never imagined levelling such a dirty look at such a handsome specimen of a young man as Greg Lestrade.

But damnit anyway, he may be dishy as hell, but he still had it coming.

"Greg," she said, in a scolding tone.

"Fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, fifteen eight…" Greg said, a clear note of innocence in his gravelly baritone.

"Gregory…" Mrs. Hudson warned.

"Sixteen for the runs…"

"Gregory Joseph, you WOULDN'T."

"Actually Mrs. H, it's not me. It's the cards you dealt. No worries, I'm sure there's nothing in the crib…"

"Fine. So you have…" she said, concentrating on the cards and counting in her head.

"Yes… I have…" Greg prompted gently. Mental exercises were good for Mrs. Hudson, and playing cribbage was one of their favourite ways to do that. A little bit of of a mental workout to keep her mind sharp, and a healthy bit of friendly competition to keep her spirit sharp as well, and more than a little innocent flirtation to keep her young at heart.

Mrs. Hudson fired a look of pure disgust at him as she mentally calculated his score. She watched with no relief as his crib turned up empty. With more than a little bit of competitive resentment, she moved his peg up the board the 24 points he'd just scored.

"Gregory Joseph Lestrade!" she declared, after she'd moved his cribbage peg, then crossed her arms in disgust.

Greg sat back meekly, clearing his throat as he turned over the cards in his crib. "See, at least there's nothing in my crib at all. I told you."

"If I were thirty years younger, I'd have my way with you, you handsome little morsel," she said, her expression turning on the charm.

"Mrs. Hudson, if you were thirty years younger, I'm sure you might try, and if not for Molly, you just might succeed. I can see quite clearly you were a real knockout in your day," he said, smiling at her. In all honesty, he was telling the truth. A lady held certain qualities even through the decades, and by that, Greg knew that in her day, Mrs. Hudson had been a genuine looker.

"You're still a beautiful lady. But you're not going to charm me with your feminine wiles to forfeit a game I am clearly…" he checked the board, "about to skunk you in."

Mrs. Hudson took a breath and let it out with frustration. "Well… if we were BOTH fifty years younger then, I'd have you over my knee giving you a right spanking for sassing me this way, young man." Her eyes followed Greg as he rose to fetch the tea pot on the counter.

"I'm sure you would try," he said, as he poured her a fresh cup, and bent down to give her a solid kiss on her cheek as he set it in front of her.

"Ohhhhh… YOU…" she protested, as she smiled and blushed.

"So, did John and Alex say when they would be back tomorrow?" Greg asked. He knew what the plans were, but had decided to see if Mrs. Hudson could remember it.

"Tomorrow around noon, I believe," she said, stirring her tea. "Oh, I'm so happy they've managed a weekend away," she smiled. "Alex has been wonderful company but honestly… she can be a bit… smothering at times."

Greg nodded thoughtfully. "Well, she IS a nurse. Caregiving comes naturally to her. I suppose she can't really help herself. Just as Sherlock can't help deducing everything within a quarter kilometer radius, and John can't help diagnosing or reconning, or whatever he does depending on who he's with."

"And you can't help bluffing your way through a questioning to get to the truth," was her reply. Greg held a neutral expression as Mrs. Hudson raised an eyebrow at him, indicating he was nicked.

"The thing is, Greg… might I tell you a little secret? Just between ourselves?"

Greg smiled at her warmly. "Of course, Mrs. H. You know you can tell me anything at all."

Mrs. Hudson paused a moment, contemplating her tea cup a little too intently. Finally, she looked up to greet his dark brown eyed gaze.

"I know why Alex is really here."

Greg raised his eyebrow, locking his eyes with Mrs. Hudson's.

"I know it's because of my stroke, and my hip… I know why she's fawning over me so. I DO appreciate it. It does make me feel so loved and appreciated." She cleared her throat as her voice began to thicken.

"So I'm happy that she and John have taken a weekend for themselves. I hate being a burden, even if I'm your landlady, I don't wish to be a burden…"

"Oh, no," Greg said suddenly, soothingly, reaching out for her hand. "You're not a burden Mrs. H, not at all. Never! We're just watching out for you is all. Alex happens to be a nurse and she happens to be planning her forever with John. So, you see your stroke seemed a perfect opportunity for her to move in with him and really dive into our little family here. She loves you as much as the rest of us do."

Greg sighed softly. "You've spent years looking after us. It's just our turn to return the favour, is all."

Mrs. Hudson seemed to accept this explanation after several quiet moments. "Well then," she finally said. "I think I fancy a dance. It does my hip good to move around a bit and it does help me to get my strength and balance back. I could swan about with my walker but it's not near as good looking as you are," she laughed softly. "Sherlock left some recorded music. Some of it is him, some of it is him and Eurus. And did you know that he recorded a bit when you were with him at Sherrinford and the two of you were playing with her? Oh it's lovely, Greg, the three of you sound so marvelous together... And of course our Baker Street Trio is recorded too… oh don't tell John, he'd be mortified! He does have SUCH a lovely voice."

Greg wasn't quite sure what to say to this, so he simply stood and bowed. "Milady, may I have this dance, then?"

Mrs. Hudson blushed, then motioned that she'd like to stand. Greg went to her, offering his hand in case she felt she needed the extra boost. To his relief and delight, she managed to make it to her feet on her own power, and hold her balance for the most part.

"It would be my honour and privilege, Sir," she said softly, grasping his hand and allowing him to lead her to the open floor of the living room. There, he started the music she had ready, and as the opening notes of Sherlock's violin and Greg's guitar, accompanied by John's sweet tenor began to ring through the air of 221A, Greg swept her into a slow dance, as Mrs. Hudson said admonishingly, "even though you shamelessly skunk a helpless old lady."

Greg laughed at this. "YOU, Mrs. Hudson? Helpless? Bollocks! Why, YOU'RE the reason London has yet to fall!"