Mrs. Hudson glanced at the clock again and then back to the telegram on the table. It was from Dr. Watson and had arrived that morning, telling her that the case was concluded and they would be back as soon as possible by the next train. But as far away as they had gone, it was now 8 in the evening. They should be arriving home anytime now, if the trains had been running right. And she knew what to expect when they did arrive. Both of them would be looking like the dead and at least one of them would have fresh stitches or a serious wound of some sort. They will not have bathed properly, Watson will be fussing with his mustache because he left his snips behind. No matter what inn or home they stayed at, it was not her cooking, so it was not good enough for them. Watson will be apologetic and thank her over and over for little things. Holmes will be grumpy and not make any understandable conversation other than grunts and grumbles. They likely will not have slept, either and will want to go straight to bed. "Well, not tonight, my boys...not tonight." she said and smiled, placing some things on the the tray to bring upstairs.
Just as she was coming out of their sitting room with the empty tray the door opened and in fell her lodgers, exactly as she imagined them to be. She sighed and pulled a basket out of the upstairs linen closet and handed it to Watson as he dragged himself up the stairs, his fingers stroking down his mustache. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I hope you didn't wait up for us. Please don't bother with anything." he said and smiled at her, looking guilty. "Dirties in there, please, and any mending, too." she said and gave him a look that she expected it to be full. He managed a bit more of a smile and headed for the sitting room. She took his arm and swung him around, steering him towards the bathroom instead. "Baths, both of you, now. I'll not have you climbing into my clean sheets like that." Holmes let out a grunt from where he was leaning against the wall, half asleep, but then shuffled, grumbling more as he followed Watson's lead to the bathroom, dropping pieces of clothing in his wake. The door closed and she picked up the clothes, emptying the pockets as she went. Revolver, caked with mud, darbys, broken. She leaned her ear against the door when she got to it. The grumbles had turned into sighs as she heard the sounds of bodies entering the hot water she'd had waiting. She smiled and nodded, then went downstairs.
Holmes was coming out of the bathroom just as she was leaving the sitting room again. She reached up and brushed the wet curls out of his eyes and he flinched like a schoolboy. "Your dinner is waiting, boys." she said with a little smile. Watson looked out of the bathroom, his mustache snips in his hand. "Oh, Mrs. Hudson, thank you but we're really very tired. " he said, hoping not to upset her. She fixed him with a look and then smiled again, "I said, your dinner is waiting." Holmes actually tried to back up a step, only to run into Watson. "I know you haven't been caring for yourselves, dears, and you'll sleep much better on full stomachs besides." she said. "Yes, you're absolutely right, Mrs. Hudson. Come Watson, we don't want it to get cold." Holmes said and elbowed his flatmate. Watson nodded and dropped the snips in the sink, quickly following Holmes into the sitting room.
As soon as they opened the door, though, they both stopped at what was before them. The room had been cleaned, well, as much as was allowed with Holmes' filing system. There were vases here and there with roses in them. Gladstone was laying in front of the fire with a bow around his neck, and it looked like he'd had a bath as well. The table had been set with Mrs. Hudson's finest china, candles glowing on it giving off a soft light to the room. Laid out on it was a feast to rival anything served at the Royal, besides being all their favorites. Watson stepped past Holmes, who was still looking at everything and then turning back to see if he was in the right room, obviously confused. Watson looked down at the cake on the side table and smiled, gesturing to Holmes to come and look.
"Happy Anniversary" was written across the decadent chocolate cake it in red icing in Mrs. Hudson's own handwriting.
Holmes went over and looked at it, then at Watson, taking his hand. He looked up to where Mrs. Hudson was standing in the half closed door watching them. "Nanny...I don't know quite what to say." he said and then smiled at her. She smiled back and said, "There are fresh sheets on Mr. Holmes bed as well and I took the liberty of moving your pillow down to his room, Dr. Watson. Good night, my boys." She winked and then shut the door. "How did she know? I didn't know..." Holmes said and looked guilty. "I think she's known longer than we have, old boy." Watson replied, pulling Holmes into his arms. He reached over and ran a finger through the frosting, then let Holmes lick it off. "We should get her a gift, or something." Holmes said. "Yes, something nice, something worthy of our old girl." Watson said and led Holmes over to the table. "Something worthy of her? Yes, perhaps a small country or something." Holmes said and grinned, knowing whatever it was, it would never be enough to show their gratitude.