OK I'm sooooo sorry this has taken so long! Iv been doing exams, hopefully people are still reading, so here you are:

As the next morning went by, it struck me that Holmes' mother was not entirely sain, however her short bursts of genius would be enough to wipe the thought from my mind completely, due to its reminding me forcefully of Holmes himself. But then again...

My musing was broken by a sudden shrill laugh, I did not turn from my writing desk however, as I was now used to these sudden fits. Mrs Holmes had been sitting on the couch for the most of the morning and her fits of babble and laughter had become a common silence breaker in the room. Mary was currently down stairs in the kitchen and Holmes was spending as much time as possible in the confines of his room.

There was a slight scraping noise behind me and Mrs Holmes broke into muttering, from the little I could hear she was talking about oysters.

"Vile things, plaguing the oceans! Eat 'em all that what I say!"

I gave a small sigh and continued with my work. It was only when the room went silent that I turned. Instantly I saw that this was due to Mrs.Holmes' mouth being occupied by a syringe, as she rolled up one of her sleeves. I opened my mouth to say something, but she had already seen the shock on my features, and, taking the syringe from between her teeth she said:

"Don't worry Doctor, this is just my medicine" before putting it back.

With a breath of relief I turned back around and continued to write. She soon resumed speaking.

"Doctor says I have to have it every day. Funny thing is, I thought I left it in my bag, but Iv just found it whilst looking through Sherlock's draw. He must have been keeping it safe for me."

With the shock of what she had said I spun around, only to see that Holmes' writing desk drawer was open, and Mrs.Holmes was holding the needle inches away from her arm.

Oh dear.

I tried to move, but before I did anything Holmes' form had shot out of nowhere, launching himself at the syringe. He managed to pull it from his mothers hand just in time.

"Sherlock! What are you doing?"

"Mother this isn't your medicine" He said, placing it back inside the drawer.

"Then what is it?"

"It's... my medicine" Holmes said tentatively. Mrs.Holmes raised her eyebrows, she obviously didn't believe him, I decided to intervene.

'How did you get into Holmes' drawer anyway? It's always locked."

"My dear Doctor" she said in a slightly patronising voice "It does not take a genius to pick a simple lock such as that".

"Nevertheless mother I would prefer that you desist from going though my drawer." said Holmes' testily, seating himself down in his armchair.

"Well Sherlock it's lucky that I did, or else I wouldn't have found this" She held up a women's picture. It took me a few seconds to realise it was that of Irene Adler. I had almost forgotten that he kept it.

"Have you told Mary about this Sherlock?"

"Mary? Why would Mary... oh."

"Hmm, well I insist that you call her up and explain to her who this young lady is."

"But mother it's only... a late client..."

"I don't care if it's your aunt Hilda, you call her up now!"

With a huff he rose from his seat and called down the stairs to Mary. She entered a few moments later, slightly confused by the atmosphere of the room.

"Mary" Mrs.Holmes said stepping forward "Sherlock has something to tell you, he has been keeping this picture of another women in his private draw, have you not Sherlock? Go on just say. After all it's important to be honest to your wife is it not?"

Holmes looked at Mary for a moment before saying:

"What does it matter? She's not even..." He paused

I had known my Mary long enough to understand the angry look on her face. When I knew that Holmes had meant to say : 'even my wife', Mary sometimes took things the wrong way, as I had found out the previous day. She obviously thought he was going to say something along the lines of: 'She's not even that handsome' or 'she's not even that good of a wife herself'.

"What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her flushed face.

She pulled back her hand before slapping him hard across the face. Afterwards marching out the room and slamming that door. Holmes' head was still turned in shock and he raised a hand to his cheek.

"My dear Sherlock, you are not very good with women are you? 'What's wrong' indeed, so callous!"

To be continued...

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