Paranoia - in which umbrellas are upturned early.
Sunday shopping was always a nuisance especially when it was Sunday and one was supposed to be at home feeding the cat. The woman sighed as she found herself packing her purse and carrying her shopping bag. It was also raining so she brought her umbrella. She sighed again when she realized her cat, Toby was missing. So was her husband, she thought sourly. At least Toby took the liberty of coming back once he had gone somewhere. Alive.
She sighed again as she took out her keys and locked the front door. She sighed when she walked to the store, she sighed when she walked back. She sighed when she waited at the zebra crossing for the traffic light and finally thought, you know what, Toby won't be back till lunch, I'll have some biscuits in the park until then. So she took a right instead of her usual left and wondered whether Toby would ever be back at all.
At the park, she found a bench where she sat and ate her biscuits on. Her umbrella kept herself and the groceries dry. It failed however to keep her eyes dry from tears. Perhaps it was because she didn't want the groceries next to her. Because groceries couldn't feel or talk. Taking a deep breath to clear her mind, she crumpled her biscuit wrapper and grabbed the umbrella. Dusting her skirt, she stood, only to be rudely shoved back into her seat by a tall figure in a hurry. It was raining heavily now. The skies thundered unusually.
"Oi!" she cried, her voice almost matching the sound of the thundering clouds.
The man slowed his run and turned to face her. "What?!" he shouted back. He voice barely heard over the now pouring rain.
"You just shoved an old lady in the rain. Is that all you can say to me, young man?"
The figure made no move of hesitation as he approached her. He was bundled in a thick coat and scarf, his gloved hands protecting his head from the rain.
"You must be Mrs. Hudson, pleasure to meet you." he said, with one of his soggy hands stretched out. Mrs. Hudson merely stared at it and narrowed her wrinkled eyes at him. "How do you know my name?"
The man wasn't looking at Mrs. Hudson, but at the groceries on the bench.
"Do you mind I pay for lunch?" he suggested.
Mrs. Hudson once again found herself doing things her mind simply didn't allow her too. "I'm sure I don't mind," she said as she watched the groceries on the bench, soaking the rain. Next to her, was someone who could talk and understand. The towering man volunteered to hold the umbrella since Mrs. Hudson simply couldn't reach over his head. He walked her home and Mrs. Hudson found herself enjoying this bright young man's company.
"Why, are you in need of a place to stay? I'm sure there was a reason for you bumping into me like that. You could have just asked you know."
The man's lips curled into a smile as they reached her front door.
"It seems I've been caught and rather homeless. I am not one for first impressions."
Mrs. Hudson struggled with the lock, her small form budged the door hard. It flew open. "Well, you have certainly made an unforgettable one on me. I do, fortunately, have a room on the second floor if you like. Fully furnished. Reasonable rent."
She ushered him to the hallway and shut the door to prevent the rain from wetting the carpet. The room was suddenly consumed in darkness.
"You know, you seem vaguely familiar...is this your first time in London?"
"You might have seen me." the darkness replied shortly. "Like I said, I am looking for a flat to rent. It is my main priority at the moment so could we get this done and over?"
Mrs. Hudson had the urge to smack the man's face. If only he wasn't so tall and invisible in the darkness. " Very well, then." she allowed finally. " But don't dare try that tone on me young man. I'm your land lady, not your housekeeper."
Entering her own flat she got out a small logbook in which she wrote her tenants details. A set of keys jingled in her hands.
"And your name? You know, for the records... And the rent."
The coat of the tall figure bristled, then, stooping to the level of the middle- aged said quietly.
"Sherlock Holmes."
The woman peered through her glasses, and smiled warmly at the stoic face hidden beneath the bush of black curls. She passed him the pen, he scowled. A part of her already liking his childish nonchalance. She could get used to this.
"Right, Mr. Holmes. Would you like some tea?"
"No thank you."
"You still owe me a takeover and mind you, the rent has nothing to do with it."
Sherlock grumbled, trudging up the staircase, not bothering to keep up his good young man facade.
Mrs. Hudson came up several minutes later with a cuppa.
"You don't happen to be a detective, do you?" she asked suddenly.
Sherlock stopped stirring his tea (an action he had been doing for the past 15 minutes, in order not to taste it.) "A good deduction, Mrs. Hudson. If I was, what need be sleuthing?"
It was Mrs. Hudson's turn to put down her tea because really, she didn't want to drink it either. She cleared her throat," It's my husband, Mr. Holmes. He's on trial in California."
"I'm not a lawyer, Mrs. Hudson. Besides, I'm sure you could get him off the hook with the local authorities. After all, it doesn't take much. Americans are really as stupid as they look," he dismissed.
After staring distastefully at his cup, Sherlock downed his tea in a gulp albeit reluctantly for courtesy and stood from his seat. "Right, if that's all, I'll go get the takeaway."
Mrs. Hudson didn't move to go.
"You see, it is rather complicated, but Sherlock, he's on trial to be released. "
Sherlock's ears perked. "And you don't want him to be?"
Mrs. Hudson gathered the tray and cups. "Of course not, by God, how long have I wanted to see that man in a rope."
Sherlock almost laughed. Almost. It was enticing and perhaps a tad bit boring… But Sherlock supposed it would do, for now.
"Very well. I will assist you. Free of charge."
Mrs. Hudson walked around him.
"That is very nice of you dear, but are you terribly sure you wouldn't want anything in return?"
Sherlock was already at the bottom of the stairs, fastened his coat and scarf. The rain had just stopped.
"Actually, I think my room needs a bit if dusting. The spiders are intolerable."
"Treat them as pets dear, I always have... Speaking of which..." Mrs. Hudson looked around her ankles.
The front door slammed behind Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson was once again in utter solitude. She sighed, which she found she was doing a lot of when she was alone.
Sitting on her sofa, she reached for the newspaper. A soft rub in her ankles made her jump. "Toby! You silly cat! I thought you died."
Toby rolled his eyes, on the inside of course, in fear of upsetting her. He settled on her lap. His dirty coffee coat smoothed by her old hands. He purred graciously, feeling no guilt of his previous attempt to escape. He presumed this was why he kept coming back. Another purr elicited. Mrs. Hudson cooed in delight.