Chapter Text
When she opened the door, Mycroft Holmes was the last person the landlady of 221B Baker Street had expected to see.
“Good morning, Mrs Hudson,” he greeted her with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She returned his greeting before adding, “Sherlock and John aren’t home at the moment.”
“Yes, I am aware of they are not. I’ve actually come to speak with you, Mrs Hudson. If now is a convenient time…”
For a moment Mrs Hudson wondered what Sherlock’s older brother could possibly want to talk with her about but then she nodded. “I was about to have some tea. Would you care to join me?”
“Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.” Mycroft had anticipated her invitation for tea, and had cleared his morning schedule accordingly. He followed her inside where she motioned for him to make himself comfortable in the sitting room while she adds the finishing touches to their tea.
“Here we are,” Mrs Hudson said when she returned a few minutes later carrying a tray with their tea and a small plate of fresh from the oven scones. She placed the tray on the coffee table and sat down in the armchair opposite of the one Mycroft had chosen. After seeing to it that he tea was as he liked it, Mrs Hudson gestured at the scones. “Have one and please don’t say it goes against your diet.” At his raised eyebrow she added, “I can’t help overhearing some of the… comments Sherlock makes when you’re visiting him.”
Mycroft gave in to her insistence, and took one of the scones, noting Mrs Hudson was not happy until he had taken a few bites. “Mrs Hudson,” he began after he had finished half of the scone, “I’m sure you were made aware that my brother and Dr Watson have traveled aboard to Singapore for Sherlock’s current case?”
The landlady nodded, “John mentioned it to me they were headed out of the country for a few days. Singapore you said?”
“Yes.”
Mrs Hudson’s eyes widened, and she gasped as though she suddenly realized something. “Oh my! Something has happened to them, hasn’t it? You’re here because they’re hurt or…” As tears flooded her eyes, she noticed that beyond a look of irritation, the man sitting across from her did not react. Closing her eyes, she tried to keep from crying in front of him thinking, What a horrible, cold man you are, Mycroft Holmes, if your brother’s…gone and you don’t even seem to care!
Mycroft saw her distress, and knew he had not chosen his words with as much care as he should have had. She was quickly getting lost in the new, doubled grief, and knowing he’d better act before it caused her any physical stress, Mycroft used his umbrella to lightly touch one of her legs. “Oh Mrs Hudson, my sincere apologies but I’m afraid I’ve caused you to draw the wrong conclusion because Sherlock and Dr Watson are not dead.”
Mrs Hudson released a visible breath of relief, murmuring “Thank goodness!” The relief was quickly replaced by anger and the landlady threw a small pillow at him. “Mycroft Holmes, you should be very ashamed of yourself for scaring an old woman like that!”
Mycroft allowed her a moment to calm down. ”Just so and again apologies, Mrs Hudson. I did not mean to give you such a fright for them. They are alive, and for the most part they are well. However, they are not entirely uninjured, but I assure you their injuries are not life-threatening and they will make a full recovery.”
“Hurt? How?” she shot back.
“I think perhaps it is for the best if I allow those details to be told at the desire and discretion of my brother or John, Mrs Hudson.”
Mrs Hudson huffed. “Then I’ll likely never know if the telling is left to Sherlock!”
Mycroft finished his tea and the scone before he said, “Nevertheless, I think it should be left up to them.”
She gave a reluctant nod. “Of course. When will they be home?”
“Their flight is expected to land late this afternoon, and they will be home to Baker Street shortly thereafter.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure everything for them by then.”
“No extensive preparation will be necessary since I have already made all the necessary arrangements except one. Mrs Hudson, what is the current state of the third flat in this building?”
The landlady was clearly puzzled by the question. “Why it’s empty of course! The thing is too bloody cold and damp to be rented to anyone without proper renovations!” Renovations she knew would never happen unless she raised the rent on the boys, and although the extra income would be nice to have, she also knew it was something she could never do to either of them.
“With your permission, Mrs Hudson, I would like to change that. I have arranged for a physician to remain close at hand for the next week, just to be safe as well as take the responsibility off Dr Watson’s hands. Knowing my brother, he will barely tolerate anyone that close, so I would like to provide you with the money to properly prepare the flat.”
“That would cost way too…”
“Money is no object here… not where my brother is concerned. And I would rather you do not repeat that. Do I have your permission to have the flat repaired?”
“All right but how can things be ready in time? Didn’t you say that Sherlock and John’s flight lands late in the afternoon?”
Pulling out his phone, Mycroft wrote a short text then answered her, “Yes, I did. However, the people I have hired for the work will be here momentarily to begin.” As if on cue, the front doorbell rang, and Mycroft stopped the landlady from getting up by standing up himself, straightening his suit as he spoke, “I’ll let them in, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you for the tea and please accept my apologies but I must be leaving now as the rest of my day is quite full.”