Prompt: Dirty tricks, from KnightFury

Our estimable landlady, Mrs. Hudson, was well accustomed to Holmes and my habits. This in itself was quite a feat, as Holmes was one of the most slovenly tenants to ever rent rooms in London, and kept highly unusual hours that varied greatly from day to day. Mrs. Hudson was the only person I have seen who managed to predict, often to the minute, when exactly Holmes should like his tea, regardless of the fact that this was at a different time each day, when he wanted his tea at all. Lest anyone think I am being unfair, I must also confess to a messy Bohemianism in my own room and a certain inconsistency in the hours I kept. Between the two of us, I did not believe we could have found a better landlady in all of London.

Each summer, however, Mrs. Hudson took herself off to Cornwall to visit her sister's family for two to three weeks, leaving us in the charge of our next-door neighbor, Mrs. Turner. This worthy lady had her own tenant to look after, a Mr. Edwards who worked in some form of banking and kept regular hours, seldom making any sound that would announce his presence, so that she looked in on us for a few hours in the morning and the afternoon before returning to her own home. Holmes and I were generally happy about this, for Mrs. Turner was not the cook Mrs. Hudson was, and so we preferred to dine out when left in her charge. She was probably just as pleased about this as we were, for whenever she did venture up to our sitting room to bring us tea, she looked horrified at the piles of papers strewn everywhere, and once could not resist attempting to organize them. This had the unfortunate result that I had to listen to Holmes complaining about how no one understood his methods of organization and that only he could be allowed to organize his papers as he put them back in exactly the same state of disarray they had been in previously. To my eye, he had no method of organization to his papers, and I had not moved them in the first place, so I perceived this as rather unfair. After Mrs. Turner then found several criminal relics in succession in both the breadbox and the butter dish, she wisely decided to leave us largely to our own devices, and I suspect Mrs. Hudson received an earful upon her return each year.

But is was during the summer before my marriage that we very nearly drove Mrs. Turner from our house forever. Holmes and I had just returned from an evening at the theater, and he was animatedly discussing the history of comic opera versus dramatic opera, when we came face to face with our little fellow-lodger, Basil of Baker Street, standing on the table in the hallway. Having been long used to the little mice who shared our living space, I smiled in greeting, only to realize that Basil looked quite angry. He was tapping his foot impatiently, glaring at us in a way that quite matched any of Holmes's darkest looks. "Basil, whatever is the matter?" I asked.

"This, Doctor, is the matter," Basil said indignantly, gesturing down at his feet. I realized he was standing on a mousetrap that had been cleverly tied so it would not snap shut. "I found this in the kitchen, ready to spring. Thankfully, I am light of foot, or else I should be trapped in it! I have rendered it harmless, as you can see, so that Dawson will not stumble upon it as I did."

"Mrs. Turner must have set it," I said to Holmes. "She does not know about Basil and Dawson."

Holmes glowered. "I shall have a talk with her," he said. "It certainly will not do for her to drive you and Dawson out, Basil."

"Thank you," Basil said grandly. "I must say, I prefer Mrs. Hudson."

Holmes smirked, and I leaned down to Basil. "So do I, little fellow. She shall be back in a week or two."

"Oh, good," Basil said in relief. "I was afraid you had driven her out!"

I burst out laughing at this, though Holmes merely looked back and said, "It takes more than some misplaced criminal relics and violin solos to drive Mrs. Hudson away. She is made of stronger stuff than that."

I later heard him having a heated argument with Mrs. Turner on the subject of mousetraps, after which he returned to our room looking rather defeated. "Well?" I asked. "Has she come to her senses?"

"I think not, Watson, for my arguments had no effect save to convince her that we have a rodent problem," Holmes said. "I think she shall only increase her efforts from now on."

For the next week, I kept a lookout both for our little fellow lodgers and any efforts Mrs. Turner might have taken to rid the house of them. I intercepted two more mousetraps in the hallway, while Holmes found some makeshift sticky paper on the floor of the kitchen. But it was not until midnight on the night before Mrs. Hudson was due to return that I was awoken by an indignant squeak. "Dr. Watson, what is the meaning of this?" Basil asked, standing on my night table with Dr. Dawson beside him. They were both wearing nightcaps and Dawson held a tiny candle.

"Good heavens, whatever is the matter?" I asked, suddenly wide awake.

"I have found these!" Basil said, showing me the candy he was very fond of, dusted in a strange white powder.

"Why, this is poison!" I said in some shock, after examining the candy closely.

"Yes, it is," Basil said. "We very nearly ate some, you know. Fortunately, I am blessed with a sharp sense of smell. It is most useful in my work, is it not, Dawson?"

"Indeed it is, Basil," Dawson said. "Though perhaps most useful tonight. That was quite strong enough to kill us both."

"Mousetraps, sticky paper, now poison," Basil said, pacing around. "Your new landlady has been playing dirty tricks on us, Doctor!"

"She has been very single-minded in her pursuit of you," I agreed. "Holmes did attempt to speak with her. I'm afraid he had little luck."

"Obviously," Basil said. "You say Mrs. Hudson is due to return soon?"

"Tomorrow, I believe," I said.

"Well, then it will all be resolved," Dawson said happily.

"Until Mrs. Hudson goes away again," Basil said.

"I shall tell her what happened," I said reassuringly. "You know Mrs. Hudson is very fond of you both. She will not allow this to happen again."
"See that it doesn't," Basil said imperiously. "Come, Dawson." He swept away, leaving the poisoned candy on my bedside table. I would have to remember to find the rest of it and dispose of it before any other little creatures could find it.

I was alerted to Mrs. Hudson's return the next day by the sound of raised voices in the hallway, and descended the stairs to find Mrs. Turner in a state of some distress. "The gunfire and the criminal relics are bad enough, but did you know you have a mouse problem, Martha? I lay traps for them but someone kept removing them, and I have a very good idea who! I had to resort to poison. I expect it is only a matter of time before your problem is solved."

"Poison!" Mrs. Hudson cried. "For heaven's sake, you didn't lay out poison for those poor little mice?"

I smiled. "Rest assured, Mrs. Hudson, I have found and taken care of the poison candy. There were no ill effects."

"Oh, thank heavens," Mrs. Hudson said, before rounding on our neighbor. "Now, see here, I ask you to leave everything as it is when you look after my house. That includes the mice. As it happens, Mr. Holmes is very fond of them, and I won't see them put in any danger!"

Mrs. Turner stared at us both before stalking out the door in a huff. Mrs. Hudson, who had not even yet removed her cloak or set down her bags, looked at me ruefully. "I am sorry, Doctor. I had no idea she would go after Basil. I quite forgot she did not know about him."

"I doubt she would understand," I said. "Allow me to take your bags into your rooms." I followed her into her sitting room. "You will have to replenish your stock of candy. I was forced to throw out anything I thought had been in contact with the poison, and I know Basil is fond of it."

"Oh, I am so glad no harm came to them, Doctor," Mrs. Hudson said. "I should not have forgiven myself."

"Holmes is not the only one who is fond of those little fellows," I said. "Though I think that Mrs. Turner may not be so willing to look after us next year when you visit your sister."

"That is easily solved. It is about time my sister visits me for a change, don't you agree?" Mrs. Hudson said. "Thank you, Doctor," she added as I piled her bags in the sitting room. "It is very good to be home."