A/n: Combo of what I was thinking and what was suggested. Hope it works!

John and Mrs. Hudson

"Arrrggghhh," John shouted. Mrs. Hudson was sure he was trying to change the dressing on his arm again. John, of course, refused to go see a doctor because he had medical training and insisted he could do it himself. Mrs. Hudson was beginning to believe that his stubborn streak would kill him or at least rip out his stitches. Last week his cab had been hit and flipped over in a strange accident in central London. John's left shoulder had been full of glass shards. He was bandaged up and sent home, but changing the dressing with his one hand was more difficult than he anticipated. She heard him pacing upstairs. She left her kitchen and started up the set of stairs.

Her heart was heavy as she headed up the familiar stairs. Before Sherlock's fall, she went up the stairs daily. Since the fall about a year ago she could count the times on one hand that she had gone upstairs. The last time was…well she wasn't sure how long it had been since she was upstairs. She blamed it on her bad hip and told John all the time it prevented her from making trips upstairs, but really she just couldn't face the reality. She told John she really didn't know how John lived up there with all those memoires. She once told him sometimes she was sure it was driving him mad. He didn't argue with her either instead he just looked at her with those haunted eyes.

She heard him shout again. Everyday Mrs. Hudson heard him shouting and she had grown used to it. She had heard him shout in pain or because of memories in his sleep. She often heard him curse Sherlock's name since his death. Today was just another day, but he sounded aggravated and angry. Maybe she could help him change the bandages.

"I'm going to rip this off. Damn the stitches to hell," John growled. She heard the stair creak under her weight when she reached the landing. All the movement in the flat upstairs stopped.

"I'm alright Mrs. Hudson." John called. She paused for a moment, but moved up the rest of the steps and opened the door.

"But you really aren't, are you dear?" He hung his head. She walked over to him and did just as he asked to help him remove the dressing on his arm. The dressing was mostly to keep his wounds clean so the dozens of cuts on his skin didn't look that alarming. Mrs. Hudson held the new bandages in place as John wrapped tape around it with his free hand.

As he was finishing the dressing, Mrs. Hudson noticed the ink that covered John's body. She was taken aback by it. She never knew John had tattoos and, in fact, he was covered in them. She stared at his chest and arms. When she saw him glance over at her, she quickly looked away.

"Mrs. Hudson I can finish cleaning up on my own. You don't need to stay if this place makes up uncomfortable and I'll go back to the doctor from now on to get my bandages changed. I don't want to upset your anymore," John told her. He smiled a bit. She knew he was as uncomfortable as she was. She could see he was trying to give her an escape if she was upset by the tattoos.

"I didn't know you had tattoos John," she smiled weakly too. He turned back to his kit.

"I don't tell people if I can help it," he told her with his back to her. His voice sounded strained. He turned to face her.

"Why not?"

"It's not really anyone's business except mine." He started to explain, but Mrs. Hudson didn't hear him. She was looking at a tattoo on John's chest. A violin sat right over John's heart with Sherlock's name across it. The tattoo raised question in her mind. Mrs. Hudson had often wondered what the real nature of their relationship had been. They never talked about Sherlock. It was unspoken that it was too painful for both of them. Even so, now it seemed like the least uncomfortable topic for them. John had stopped speaking and was staring at her now. Obviously she should say something.

"I miss him so much some days," she sighed. "He used to drive me up the wall with the experiments and the shooting, but I miss him."

"He didn't speak for days when he was working on a case, but he was always here. There was always some kind of commotion. He was loud even when he was silent. Now…well it's just so quiet." John told her quietly.

"I played violin music downstairs for months after it happened. It wasn't the same. Recordings don't have his finesse." She laughed a little at her admission. The two of them shared a smile.

"I got this when it all became too much." John pointed to his own chest. "Faked genius! I couldn't believe him, but all the evidence was killing me. It was like I was fighting myself all the time. There were all these doubts about everything and this just….well it helped."

"I'm glad. I need you around her John. I'd never be able to find a renter if you left. Sherlock's chemicals destroyed this place!" she laughed but the thought of John leaving made her heart ache. He had tried once, but came back soon after. She hoped he would stay even if it was hard because the memory of Sherlock was here.

She remembered that day fondly now as she stood in the doorway watching the two men fight. They had revealed that they were a couple just a few days ago, quite by accident, when they had come home from a case. John was shouting at Sherlock on the steps about danger when suddenly Sherlock had swept him into a frantic kiss that caught her by surprise. The two had looked sheepish when they realized she was there, but she had just chucked. She was happy for them. It had taken them long enough.

Today though, Sherlock was standing with his phone pointed at John while John had his hands crossed over his bare chest. The two of them were arguing about Mycroft and picture messages or something. The disagreeable man had just left the flat a few minutes ago. She started laughing at the memory, of how uncomfortable the she and John had been that day, and John's face when he was trying to pull off the bandages. The two men turned to face her. John lowered his arms and asked if she was alright. She nodded and she continued to laugh.

Sherlock took the opportunity to put the phone back up and snap the picture.

"Ah ha!" he shouted. He bounded up the stairs and away from John.

"Sherlock," John growled and sprang after him. Mrs. Hudson quickly left the flat and closed the door behind her.

"Don't knock down the house boys!" she called as she hurried down the stairs.

A/n: Input always appreciated.