Work Text:
Having grown up near Baker Street, Miss Emma Briggs was quite thoroughly acquainted with the tales surrounding 221B. Fires set in the rooms, target practice with a revolver indoors. Horrible, screeching violin playing at all hours of the night and day. Countless filthy little street children running in and out, and sometimes dogs as well, all tracking in mud.
And that wasn’t even accounting for all the crimes which orbited this place. Why, just a few years before, there had been some business that resulted in the shattering of one of the upstairs windows by a sniper bullet!
Miss Briggs could not imagine how a respectable woman like Mrs. Hudson put up with such terrible tenants. They paid well enough, she supposed, but Mrs. Hudson must constantly be at her wit’s end. Perhaps someday, those two would move out, and then the poor woman could have some peace.
Unfortunately, as little as Miss Briggs wanted anything to do with disreputable people such as Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, some of her jewelry had been stolen from a locked room two nights ago. It was the sort of case where the police weren’t likely to be useful, and so, she’d resigned herself to needing Mr. Holmes’ help.
“Mr. Holmes is out just now, but he ought to be back soon.” Mrs. Hudson, poor woman, gave a tired smile as she ushered Miss Briggs upstairs. “You can wait in the sitting room for— Oh dear, oh dear!”
They both paused just inside the sitting room, and Miss Briggs looked at the place in horror. Practically every available surface was covered in newspapers, even the floor.
Mr. Holmes had no doubt done this. Miss Briggs had heard the stories of how often he tossed things all over, making a terrible mess for Mrs. Hudson to clean up.
“You poor woman,” Miss Briggs said, shaking her head as Mrs. Hudson picked up newspapers off the settee. “Do you know, I truly think you ought to throw these awful people out of your house. You’re far too respectable a woman to put up with such troublesome tenants.”
Mrs. Hudson twisted around towards her, but before she could acknowledge Miss Briggs’ wisdom, the front door banged. Two sets of footsteps thundered up the stairs, and then Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson burst in. Blood immediately dripped to the floor.
“Oh!” Mrs. Hudson rushed to them. “Doctor, what’s happened?”
“It’s nothing, Mrs. Hudson,” Mr. Holmes said in quite a weak voice. He was leaning on Dr. Watson for support, and seemed to have a knife sticking out of his shoulder. Miss Briggs stared at the knife. “A little incident with a murderer.”
“He’ll be all right, Mrs. Hudson.” Dr. Watson’s tone was quite soothing, but he glared at Mr. Holmes. “However, having an object embedded in one’s shoulder is not nothing.”
“A mere splinter.”
“It is a knife, old man.”
“So it is.” Mr. Holmes twitched a lightning-fast smile. “However, it is a small knife.”
Mrs. Hudson exchanged looks with Dr. Watson, then helped to get Mr. Holmes to the settee. She moved the newspapers so that he could lie down, too.
Somehow, she didn’t complain about it at all, and seemed more worried about blood getting on his newspapers than on her floor and clothes. She picked up the papers which had been bloodstained and set them aside, then went back to the two men while Miss Briggs watched in confusion.
“It’s all right, Mr. Holmes,” Mrs. Hudson said softly, smoothing his hair off his brow with a gentle stroke of the hand. “You just rest now, dear. Dr. Watson will take such good care of you, and I’ll help. Doctor, what do you need?”
“My medical bag, please.” He gave a soft smile and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll be all right once we’ve cared for him.”
Mrs. Hudson sniffled a bit, gazing down at Mr. Holmes. Then she turned to Miss Briggs, and the tenderness on her face was replaced with fire.
“Miss Briggs,” Mrs. Hudson said, stepping closer to her. Miss Briggs automatically took a step back. “You’re quite welcome to leave, or to be thrown out of, my house. Or you can make yourself useful, and go downstairs to fetch hot water.”
Rather in shock, Miss Briggs went downstairs to fetch hot water. It seemed that Mrs. Hudson didn’t think of Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson as troublesome tenants, after all.