Prompt: fire, from goodpenmanship
It had occurred to Mrs. Hudson long ago, before it had ever occurred to Mr. Holmes, she was willing to wager, that someday his enemies might find their way to 221b Baker Street.
This would have been more difficult for them had Dr. Watson not published their true address in his account of Mr. Holmes's first case, but that was no matter now. Perhaps Mr. Holmes's reputation truly had kept them safe from the more conventional criminals he and Dr. Watson set themselves against, but surely she could not have been the only one of them who wondered what would happen when he found himself an enemy of a higher caliber.
Of course neither of them thought about this. And of course neither of them were home when she smelled the smoke. Though Dr. Watson hadn't called 221b Baker Street home for nearly four years, which she was now thankful for though it made the first floor rooms lonelier (and messier).
The smell was just strong enough that, just before climbing into bed, Mrs. Hudson sniffed the air and went to check on the fire. The maid had been careless once before about putting out the fire before turning in, and she wanted to be sure it didn't happen again. But the smell grew stronger as she followed it, finally coming across a fire that threatened to engulf the staircase carpet and then the bannister itself if left unchecked.
It was moving downstairs. Mrs. Hudson was no detective, but it didn't take much deduction to conclude that the fire had been started in the upstairs sitting room, and Mr. Holmes was not so cavalier that he would leave his fireplace unattended. In fact, he wasn't even home, and hardly had been for the past week. A case of some sort, one of the more important and difficult ones, judging by his hasty leavings and returnings. She could always tell.
No matter. If the fire was now making its way downstairs, it was too big for anyone but the fire brigade to put out, and Mrs. Hudson ran back inside, getting up Billy and the maid and shooing them outside before following herself with the cat. "Fire!" she cried, knocking hard on Mrs. Turner's door next door, and soon the cry was repeating all down Baker Street. Billy had run for the nearest firehouse and several agonizing moments later, Mrs. Hudson heard the clanging of the truck on its way.
Her husband had picked the location because of its proximity to the firehouse. Tom had had a deathly fear of fire, and she thanked him in her heart for it. With any luck, little would be lost.
It was near dawn before the fire was at last under control, with coincided with Mr. Holmes's return, looking much the worse for wear. "Mrs. Hudson?" he asked in some confusion, taking in the scene. All their neighbors, outside in their nightclothes and the fire truck making ready to leave. "Has something happened?"
"You tell me, Mr. Holmes. Is it one of your criminals who's found his way to this house and set it on fire?" Mrs. Hudson demanded. "You're lucky I smelled the smoke, or else the street would be burnt down by now."
Mr. Holmes's keen grey eyes took in the unharmed exterior of 221 Baker Street, as if searching for clues.
"Well? You must have some theory as to who has done this?" she asked.
"I have no theories, Mrs. Hudson. I know who has done this," he said. "I did not think even he would stoop so low as to attempt to burn down my rooms and endanger innocent bystanders."
"Who?" Mrs. Hudson asked. It was not only because she wanted to know; but Mr. Holmes rarely sounded awed by anyone, and if she did not know better, she would think he actually feared this new criminal.
"I dare not tell," Mr. Holmes said. "If this is what he would do as a mere warning, imagine what he would do if he believed any of my associates knew something he wished to learn. It is better to remain in ignorance, Mrs. Hudson."
Mrs. Hudson harrumphed in response. Ignorance had not saved her this time, though she understood his point. If this man was so terrible he would risk burning down an entire street merely as a warning, she could imagine what he would do if he actually needed information.
"I shall have to amend my strategy, now that I know my enemy's true nature," Mr. Holmes said quietly, as if speaking to himself.
"You ought to warn the Doctor," Mrs. Hudson said.
"That is exactly what I shall not do," Mr. Holmes said. "My home address is now known to him, thanks to that infernal story, but Watson's is not, and he has been so little involved of late with my cases that it is possible the fiend does not know of his location. If I tell him, he shall certainly insist on becoming involved, putting himself in the same danger." He looked at her with a more sympathetic expression than usual. "I regret you have found yourself in his path."
Mrs. Hudson smiled at last. "I've always known you might find yourself with an assailant at your door. I have been prepared for many years. Besides, now that the fellow knows you are aware of him, perhaps he won't be so bold next time."
"No, next time he shall certainly be more stealthy. We shall have to be on our guard," Mr. Holmes agreed.
"Well, then, I suggest we go inside and see what can be salvaged," Mrs. Hudson said. "Are you certain you do not want to tell Dr. Watson?"
"I have never been more certain," Mr. Holmes said. "I may not be able to avoid the dubious attentions of the man I have the honor to call the greatest criminal mastermind I have ever fought, but Watson still might. I would not lead this monster to anyone else's door."