Sherlock been in the tub for approximately 15 minutes, judging by the water temperature and the wrinkles in his fingers and toes, when he heard a rapid but soft knock on the bathroom door. It was Mrs. Hudson coming to wash out his hair. He sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. He was glad she was here the water was starting to cool off. After the initial sting of the warm water on his cold skin and then a burning as the water covered the cut on his side, he had become relaxed. Watching his skin water log and used his hands to swirl the soap clouds turning the water milky. He was bored now and wanted to get out.
"How are we doing, dear?" Mrs. Hudson ask as she picked up the comb and pitcher from the little cupboard and placed them on the small, porcelain topped table that sat next to the claw footed tub, she then pulled out a three legged wooden stool and set it down behind Sherlock and the tub. She sat down next to him still smiling. He didn't look at her.
"Oh! Not going to talk? Having a lil' pout are we?" She dipped the pitcher into the tub and brought it up towards his head, Sherlock leaned it back allowing her to wet his hair thoroughly, she then ran her fingers through his curls trying to get the mud out and loosen the tangles. He still wouldn't respond, he was waiting for her to tell him that she was going to talk to his parents about what he had been up to and then he'd be under guard and wouldn't be able to go see John.
"Don't think I don't know where you were today! And, that I didn't see that nasty cut across your ribs." She scolded him.
He frowned and she poured another pitcher on his hair. "I should go straight to your parents and tell them."
His head still turned up he opened his eyes at her, tears brimming the edges. She reached up and stroked his hair which was finally loosening. "Oh Sherlock, I'm not going to do that. I see how it makes you happy to play out in the woods."
"I do not play." He says sternly
"This is not the time for that tone young man."
"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson."
"Right then." She goes to grab the comb and taps her lower lip thinking. "After we've finished, I will bandage you up. That cut doesn't look very deep so a little salve ought to take care of it."
Sherlock nods and straightens up and Mrs. Hudson starts combing out the knots from his dark hair. "I'm not going to tell your parents about today. I should, but I won't. I really just wish you'd be more careful. I would be much more comfortable if you had someone out there with you. Maybe Mycroft could go?"
He shudders and shakes his head, "No."
"Well we must find you someone, if not, then I will ask Molly to go with you."
Sherlock brain whirls frantically, he did not want Molly to go with him. She was far too timid and would not find climbing trees and collecting bugs much fun. "JOHN!" he says loudly, making Mrs. Hudson drop the comb and it clatters on the tile floor.
"Who dear?" She ask while picking the comb up.
"He is….uh….my…friend." He looks out the corner of his eye trying to see her face from behind him.
"You have a friend?!" She sounds shocked, "Who is he?"
"A boy from town. He is nice, he is why I was late. I won't be late again, I promise."
"That's wonderful Sherlock. If you really do have this friend then I do not see the problem with you going to play with him."
Sherlock growled but chose not to correct her this time since he was getting what he wanted, no Molly and no Mycroft.
Mrs. Hudson pulled the comb through his hair one last time, sighing, "You got very lucky tonight. Your parents are over at the Donovan's for the evening."
Sherlock kept his face neutral but inside was smiling, he did not want to deal with his parents this evening and their questions.
Mrs. Hudson stood up to leave him to get dressed, "I will see you in your room for in a few minutes to but a bandage on. Then we'll have some food sent up to you." She headed towards the door.
"Yes….and…thank you Mrs. Hudson."
She stopped before opening and turned to give him one last smile before leaving.
Later in the evening after it had grown very dark and very cold, the wind howling against the window, Sherlock sat crossed legged in his red arm chair next to the fire. Mrs. Hudson had already been in to cover his wound and she had had Molly bring him a tray of food. He had already eaten half of the roast beef sandwich and was just finishing off the chocolate biscuits. He reached over to the table next to him where the tray sat and grabbed the glass of milk, he drank half before putting it back down. Once done he sprang from his chair and ran over the pull robe next to his door, he pulled it three times and then began to pace the little space in front of the hearth with his arms behind his back. A few minutes later he heard a soft knocking on his door it was Molly, obviously, "enter" he said to her. Molly peeked around the door then crept quietly into the room. He turned to look at her, his eyes gleaming, she hid a small smile behind her fingers trying to hold off a giggle.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, "Did you bring me what I asked? The book! Did you bring the book?"
She snapped out of her thoughts, bringing the book up to her chest almost dropping it, "Oh, yes. I did. I'm sorry. I just…well you…um…you have." She drew a line across her upper lip.
"What?" He looked at her in confusion.
"You…have…um…you have a milk on your lip." She giggled softly, looking away.
Sherlock quickly wiped his mouth on his pajama sleeve. He looked back up at her, "Did I get it?"
She nodded at him, "Yes."
"Now give me the book." He held out his arms and she walked over and handed it to him. "Excellent." He said eyes shining bright once he had it open, it was much too large for him to hold himself while standing up.
"Would you like me to stay and help?" Molly asked eagerly. Sherlock slammed the book shut and looked her in the eyes with a dour expression. Molly hadn't been working for the family very long but already showed promise for being loyal and exceptionally quiet. The quiet part was the only reason he tolerated her more than the rest of the house hold staff, Mrs. Hudson excluded of course. But he most certainly did not want her to hang about and talk to him.
He turned his back to her, opening the book back up. "You can take the tray now, Molly."
He looked over the first page while listening to her sigh then pick up the tray and leave. As soon as he heard the door click shut he went over to his bed. He put the book up on top of the wooden side table and reached under his pillow, searching for John's acorn, as he had come to call it in his mind. Once found he climbed up on to the bed and kicked the grey duvet down with his feet, the smooth satin sheets were cool even through his flannel pants, and he tucked his toes under the duvet to keep them warm. He reached over and dragged the large book to sit on his legs. He reclined back on to his downy pillows and brought up his knees to settle the book in his lap. He held John's acorn in his tiny fingers and looked over the page in front of him studying the drawings of trees, their leaves and their seeds. He needed to know what tree this acorn came from, he had already deduced that it was Oak but not the species. He found what he was looking for towards the middle of the book a Pedunculate Oak (Quercus robur) the English Oak, "seems fitting." He tossed the book on the floor with a thud that sounded out of place in his quiet room. He curled on to his side, the fire warming up his back and slowly the rest of his body, he brought the acorn close to his face to study it further. The cupule and stalk were missing "possibly still on the branch" and something had been chewing at the top, "a squirrel nibbling at it". Sherlock thought to himself, "The squirrel realized that the inside had been eaten away, tossed it and was on to search for a more satisfying meal." He inspected the inside and outside, a tiny hole looked to have be drilled into the outer wall, "A Weevil larvae, most likely but will have to look it up to be sure," he yawned and closed his hand around John's acorn and wrapped his other hand around that one, tucking them both under his cheek and closed his eyes while thinking, "I must tell John all that I discover."