CHAPTER 19. 221B

Martha Hudson had suspected Sherlock would take her up on the offer for the flat upstairs. She of course would give him whatever discount he wished, he already paid too much for the small basement flat. But when her Sherlock announced he may just have found a flatmate she was a little hesitant as well as surprised.

"Now Sherlock" she'd started hands on her hips. "I wont have any questionable associates or derelicts taking up housing here. I wont allow you to be taken advantage of. You already do so much for that Detective fellow, and without pay. They should have a little more respect, I say. You are too kind to the lot. Any how who you have here is your business but I'll tell you now young man, no squatters-"

"Mrs. Hudson, I'm wounded. You know as much as I, I am to smart to share a space with such miscreants."

"Then who is this mystery-OH! Is it a women? Have you found yourself a nice girl?" She clapped her hands together excitedly. The dark haired young man scrunched his face in denial.

"Mrs. Hudson I've already stated clearly that is not my area. Besides I'm married to my work. As for the possible flatmate, it's an old friend from UNI."

"Friend?" he was putting his scarf on, a smile playing across his cupid bow lips, those beautiful gray eyes staring off at something past the window.

"Yes. Friend I think. Never mind that, he shall be arriving tomorrow around two please show him the rooms if I'm not here yet."

"Fine. And what is the name of this "friend"?"

"Doctor John Watson."

"Oh!" her eyes lit up again. "Your fella! So you've made up then! Well I shall make scones for the occasion."

"Yes, yes go." Sherlock already stopped listening he was taking his leave he had some supplies to pick up.

And this is what had Martha Hudson so busy in the kitchen part of the next morning. She would be delighted at the astonished look on Mrs. Turner's face from next door. Mrs. Turner was always bragging about the married ones she had living in her downstairs flat.

"Evan is a barista at a corner café, makes the best mocha's for me when I feel down. And Charles works as a bank teller. Very respectable those two. I hope they'll have a child someday it would be nice. What does yours do? Poor man, he lives alone doesn't he? Well a bit weird that boy if you ask me, the hours he keeps and the people he associates with. Gahstly, I sometimes expect to hear that you've been murdered in your sleep."

This was Martha's cue to depart before she made Mrs. Turner eat her dentures, and by the way someone should tell her that that ridiculous red wig, isnt at all flattering .

Really the nerve, no one spoke about her Sherlock that way, he was a good boy, and he helped the Yard. A brave man, smart as a wip, and the people who knocked were clients looking for help and Sherlock never turned them away. Or asked for money-well some he did turn out but only the boring cases. She smiled to herself now arranging the scones. The day he showed up on her doorstep-that day changed her life and she'd never regret it any of it.

Sure he could be blunt and his words often stinging, but she was no shrinking violet. She might look weak but her backbone was strong although her hip wasn't as sturdy as it used to be, she could hold her own.

Sherlock often apologized if he said something particularly cruel, well the words "I'm sorry" never spoken but he often found a way to make things right. And he was so talented with his violin, oh when she had her hip surgery he'd played the most beautiful piece, she later learned he'd written it just for her. He'd called it Bonne Nuit Maman.( Good night Mother) A lovely boy, a mother couldn't ask for more. Of course George her husband never wanted children and she was glad they hadn't any.

She didn't like to think of the man, that had gone all wrong, but she was free of him and Sherlock that young man with the lost gray eyes had helped her for free, asking for not payment, he saved her. And when she heard he needed a place she didn't care what people like Mrs. Turner would say, he could be eccentric but isnt everyone in their own way. The hard knock at the door brought her out of her musings.

She smiled brightly when standing on her stoop was in fact the young man from the picture.

He leaned heavily on a silver cane, but she didn't give it more than a fleeting glance. It was impolite to stare, besides he had such a handsome face, and the manners. He'd introduced himself and shook her hand gently but firmly. Yes, this Doctor was perfect for her boy.

"Why hello there my boy come in come in you must be John, Sherlock mentioned you'd be stopping by."

"Oh, is he not home? I can come back-"

"No, no. I wouldn't let you, come in dear. I'll show you to his flat." And of course he was more than willing to comply, poor dear so young to be saddled with an old man's limp. Well Sherlock did say he was on the mend hopefully he would be well again in no time.

"I see he hasn't changed at all." John looked around the room with a grin.

"Oh that's right! You went to UNI with him. He did mention that you two were friends."

'He did?" John accepted the tea the older women handed him. This women's mannerisms reminded him of Sherlock's mother. Just a little in the way she spoke about the younger man, and her eyes were the same color, her fragile appearance, unlike Mrs. Holmes John could see that Mrs. Hudson may look fragile but in fact was made of sturdier stuff. The Doctor in him noted her distribution of weigh she moved a little stiffly, her hip either was replaced or was in need of it. The stairs couldn't be to good on that. He wondered if she'd been prescribed anything for that, no doubt it would worsen in the colder weather.

"Yes, he said he had an old friend from UNI stopping in. I recognized you from the picture." She smiled.

"Sherlock has a picture?"

"Yes of course dear a service picture, I'll say men in uniform are quiet handsome, I'm sure he agrees." John tried not to choke on his tea when the older women winked at him. He thought over her other words now, pushing his embarrassment away. Sherlock had said friend, and Sherlock never wasted words, he valued cold hard truths and was always so blunt. Could he hope-it was too much to think his friend would be willing to put the past behind them. And how about Mycroft , the older Holmes had gone all the way to Afghanistan to frighten him off, imagine what he would do if he found out John was actually talking to Sherlock instead of sending unturned emails. Not that he ever stopped John before.

"You must have some interesting tales to tell-I bet he was wild at UNI. Such a handsome boy did he have many girlfriends? Or you know-" John once more almost choked on his tea. From experience he knew it was no use to deny a relationship everyone always assumed the two were a couple. And he'd learned to just let them think what they wanted.

"Oh, he wasn't so bad at university but you should have seen him at six." John watched interest spark in the older women's hazel eyes. She took a seat now, offering him freshly baked scones and they smelled delicious, his stomach growled reminding him he hadn't eaten yet today, he gave himself a mental pat on the back, good subject change Watson.

"You knew him as a child?" John nodded his grin widening.

"Yes. I met him on my way to the library-did you know he wanted to be a pirate when he grew up?"

This is how Sherlock found the two laughing easily over a cup of hot tea. John looked comfortable in the chair with the union jack pillow, no not comfortable he looked as if he belonged here and Sherlock was determined to keep him there.

"John, Mrs. Hudson I see you've met."

"Yes, dear I was only keeping your friend company until you returned. Sherlock-the mess you've made. Not at all proper for visitors." She stood pouring him some tea he took her spot in the chair. "Here now, I best get back downstairs. I promised Mrs. Turner I'd stop in for some tea. Nice meeting you Doctor Watson."

"Please, John." The Doctor offered.

She patted Sherlock's shoulder "Alright then John it is. Now Sherlock dear, don't run this one off just yet. He's polite, perhaps he'll rub off on you."

"Goodbye Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock waved her off. "So, John what do you think?" he gestured to the flat.

"It's nice. Really nice."

"Good, it's settled. When can you move in?"