When we arrived, Mrs. Hudson (bless her soul) had lit the fires; we felt the warmth soon as we entered. She bustled about, taking dripping outerwear, and informed me that she already had breakfast on the table, more to follow if we wished, and could I please forgive the mess Mr. Holmes had made since he returned twenty minutes ago.
Cummings gawped, stumbling after me up the stairs, as the good lady hurried back toward the kitchen. I laughed at the lad's dumbfounded expression; that this was his first time in this house of horrors.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but…how does a lady like that stand a lodger like Mr. Holmes?"
"If you can solve that mystery, my boy, you're a deal smarter than you look."
"Er…thank you, Inspector."
The floor was chock-full of debris, since the Doctor hadn't been around to clean, and Mr. Holmes was pacing the floor with a sheaf of papers, flinging each over his shoulder as he finished perusing its contents.
I yawned and seated myself at the table, while Cummings did a remarkable impression of a pond goldfish before stammering a good-morning (which was ignored) and sitting beside me.
"Sir?" he whispered.
"Good news, Constable." I indicated the table with some relief, for it held the remains of a goodly plate of eggs and bacon.