Prompt: The Perils of Pauline. Include at least one stereotypical peril in your work today - the cornier and more stereotypical, and the more perilous, the better. And yes, bonus point if one of the perils is for Watson.
Mrs. Hudson's pov of Rainy #31: Tea Time. The afternoon before JWP #6: Nighttime Demons
Tea. Small cakes. Cold cuts. Bread. Did they need anything else?
No, she decided. She did need the tray, though, and its normal place held only the more delicate one she used in her own rooms. The doctor must not have used it to bring the rest of the tea things downstairs.
No matter. She could retrieve it, and that would let her take the more awkward tea pot up separately, anyway. That pot had tried to unbalance her many times. Perhaps the shop Mrs. Turner had mentioned would have a better one at a decent price.
Or she could make Mr. Holmes find her one. Goodness knew that detective broke enough stuff around the flat, and lecturing him in front of John would ensure he purchased one instead of sending the Irregulars to search the city's rubbish bins again. He ought to know better than that. At least after last time.
That settled it. She would make him find one for upstairs, and the commotion in the sitting room said she might not have to wait for long. If they had started another round of fisticuffs, she would get her new teapot along with an extra two month's rent for breaking the time limit she had set. Mr. Holmes could not claim boredom this time.
Nor should she enter with a full—and warm—teapot. Even the unbalanced china did not deserve to shatter against a detective. If those two intended to roughhouse like children, she would give both lecture and repercussions they would not soon forget.
"Watson!"
If they were under attack, however—
She darted to the doorway to find Mr. Holmes furiously fighting off a strange man. Neither carried any weapons, but the intruder had several forming bruises and a heavy limp, and Mr. Holmes moved his left arm awkwardly. Only on second glance did she spot the doctor on the floor behind Mr. Holmes. Weak movements proved him both conscious and hurt, but she could not check on him without alerting the intruder to her presence.
She could let Mr. Holmes check on him, though. The tea tray rested just inside the door. Two steps took her within range, and a resounding clang sent the man to his knees. Mr. Holmes pinned him a moment later.
"Go for the Yard."
She nearly ignored the grunted order. With the captive intruder effectively out of commission, she would have preferred to check on the doctor, but Mr. Holmes' glare grudgingly sent her down the stairs. A serious injury would not have let the doctor roll over, anyway. He would be fine.
She hoped.
The door slammed behind her, and she hurried down the street, scanning the crowd as she went. She had seen the dark uniform of a constable just before going upstairs. Now where—
"Inspector!"
Inspector Lestrade would help more than any constable could. He jerked in surprise, then worried eyes spotted her as he picked up his pace.
"Mrs. Hudson?"
"Intruder," she answered shortly, never breaking stride on their way back to the flat. "The doctor was down but moving when I left. Mr. Holmes sent me for help."
Which meant he could walk in to one patient and a prisoner or two patients and an ambush. He nodded understanding, one hand on his revolver though he made no verbal reply. Less than a minute reached the door, and a quiet word sent him up the stairs.
Where he immediately gave a low chuckle. The sound eased her worry far more than the calm murmurs that carried a moment later. Whatever injuries her boys had sustained could not be too bad if one could display irritation fit to make the inspector laugh.
That would not prevent her from checking on them, however. As soon as the inspector took the ruffian away, she would use their own request for tea as an excuse to see for herself that this misadventure was truly over.
And that dratted tea tray remained in the sitting room. Grumbling irritation retrieved the daintier one despite her reservations. She would simply keep it out of Mr. Holmes' reach until it returned safely to the kitchen.
Perhaps she would make Mr. Holmes find another tea tray as well, if only to keep a makeshift weapon upstairs should the need arise.
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