Mary Watson heard the door opening. She wiped her eyes and took a shuddering breath, but she was too late. She'd been caught.
"Oh, darling," Mrs. Hudson said. "Come here." She opened her arms, and despite the height distance between them, Mary collapsed into them.
"There, there, it's alright," Mrs. Hudson cooed. "I was a young woman once, you know. I understand. Come on. Come. That's better." She had led Mary to the settee and sat with her, rubbing her back soothingly.
"I feel such despair, Mrs. Hudson," Mary murmured, her voice trembling. "What am I to do? First Sherlock Holmes, and now… Mrs. Hudson, I'm not ready to be a widow." She began to cry again.
"I know," Mrs. Hudson said, cradling her close. "I know. Neither was I. Neither are any of us. If he dies, we'll help you through. But you're not. Not yet, and there's no use in losing faith, is there? I can hear the doctor up there with him now, doing a wonderful job, I'm sure. There, now, dry your tears. Oh, my poor love, you haven't had much of a cry for a long time, have you? I know what that's like, too. We all need a bit of mothering now and again."
"I haven't had a mother for a very long time," Mary whispered. "And sometimes, it feels as though I haven't had either of my parents since I was five years old. Is that horrid of me?"
"No, dear. I can't imagine what it must have been like, all those holidays and Christmases alone in a cold dormitory and no one to tend you. You had friends, I'm sure, but that's not the same kind of comfort as a mother and father."
"John and I are alike in that," Mary said softly. "We were each alone in the world save a precious few true friends, but we found each other. Mrs. Hudson, I can't bear to live without him! And I know he'd never willingly leave me here alone. Why does he have to be such a good doctor? I'd rather he have the most mundane job in the world if it would spare him influenza."
"Oh, Mary. I think you already know that if he was, he wouldn't be the man you love. Come here, let me show you something I did when my Mr. Hudson was ill many years ago."
"Of course," Mary agreed. "Mrs. Hudson, I hope you know I haven't meant to be rude…"
"I know dear," the older woman said, cutting her off. "I told you, we all need some mothering every once in a while. Now, does the doctor upstairs tending to our dear doctor have everything he needs?
"Yes," Mary said, once more wiping her eyes. "He's promised to call for me if he requires anything else."
"Good," Mrs. Hudson nodded. "Show me where everything is in your kitchen."
"What are we making?"
"A Christmas pudding."
Mary paused. "Mrs. Hudson, I apologize, but I simply can't think about Christmas right now."
"Nevertheless, a pudding needs to be made."
"Mrs. Hudson, I can't. I can't even imagine what life will be like tomorrow, let alone what a Christmas will be like a month from now if he... if he…"
"Trust me," Mrs. Hudson said, laying a hand on her arm. "Let's make the pudding."
Mary nodded bravely, lips trembling and eyes red. "Let's make the pudding," she repeated weakly.
The women moved about the kitchen, gathering ingredients as outside the sun began to set. They worked in silence, though not an necessarily and uncomfortable one. They had begun to steam the pudding when the Doctor Anstruther left, promising Mary he'd made John as comfortable as possible and that he was resting. She thanked him, and after he left Mrs. Hudson took her hand.
"Advent begins tomorrow," she said.
Mary looked to the ground. "Yes," she said. "I'm afraid I haven't been feeling very pious recently."
"Mary, I'm not trying to shame you," Mrs. Hudson said gently. "I only wish to ask you to do something for me. Not now, but when you pour brandy over the pudding every day until Christmas. Do it matter how you are feeling or what has happened. Will you?"
Mary nodded.
"Thank you. Come, let's go up to your good man. Quietly, now, so as not to disturb his rest. Here, hold my hand. Repeat after me, won't you? Good. Quietly, remember… Almighty God, we entrust all who are dear to us to thy never-failing care and love, for this life and the life to come, knowing that thou art doing for them better things than we can desire or pray for; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
As she spoke, Mary softly repeated her words. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," she whispered when they'd left the room. She tried to focus on Mrs. Hudson instead of how deathly pale and wan John looked, how his body kept shaking, how...
"Repeat it," Mrs. Hudson instructed, breaking into her thoughts. "Do it every day. Let pouring brandy over the Christmas pudding be your reminder. And, on Christmas day, whether you are in joy or in sorrow, you'll remember. I did it for Mr. Hudson, I did it for Mr. Holmes, and I've done it for others. Perhaps I'm just a silly old woman, but I think it's always good to have a reminder that we are not alone."
"We are not alone," Mary repeated, almost distantly.
"Come on, dear. You must keep your strength up. Rest, and I will watch over your house for tonight."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I want you to know I mean that, and I never meant to be a bother."
"Hush, love. It's quite alright; I've never minded being a mother."
For the prompt from Michael JG Meathook: Christmas pudding
Today I learned that Christmas puddings are traditionally made weeks before Christmas. Pouring brandy over one everyday draws out the flavors as well as acts as a preservative, though (from what I can tell) this step is generally skipped nowadays. Again, I learned all this today, so if you're a pudding expert and I've gotten everything wrong, please let me know :)
The prayer is from the Book of Common Prayer.