A bit of Christmas cheer!

[dreamwaffles]

I have always been terribly fond of Mrs. Hudson.  She is the most long-suffering landlady in the history of landladies.

I was also intending to write a bit of fluff for Christmas, in any fandom, really, but events have caught up with me and, well, it didn't turn out quite as planned.

In any case, I wrote a little one-shot for Christmas.  It's Holmes slash, from the point of view of Mrs. Hudson.  Enjoy.

Title: Bringing In the Eggnog
Rating: A very light PG, for, um, slashy implications.
Warnings: Holmes/Watson.  Together.  As a romantic pairing.  Oh, and this is sadly unbetaed.
Notes: Again, unbetaed, because I wrote it in...about half an hour.  I hope you enjoy it, in any case!  By the way, I love the idea of Mrs. Hudson being a little old slasher lady.  Because...I just do.  Also, there's a tiny Oscar Wilde reference in here, because I can.

Naturally, I’ve known about the boys for months now.  I daresay ever since they started their little love affair I’ve known; after all, it’s not like they have any idea how to wash their own sheets.  Not to mention the fact that my sitting-room is directly beneath Mr. Holmes’ bedroom, and more than once I’ve had to make a hasty retreat to the kitchen; I am very fond of both of them, of course, but there are some things I have no desire to know.

 

I wonder if either of them realises how lucky they are that I am their landlady.  Doubtless Mr Holmes is well aware that my own nephew wears the green carnation, though I do not know if he is fully cognisant of my own knowledge concerning the good doctor and himself.

 

As it is Christmas-time, and more than once I have clearly interrupted, hm, certain proceedings by entering with the tea, though both of them hide it well, I believe I shall do my best to end their concerns about me.  No doubt they have them, after all.

 

I decorated their shared sitting-room this morning, and was unable to stop myself pinning a bit of mistletoe to the door-frame.  If Mr Holmes is still unaware of my knowledge, the presence of the plant will certainly give my little trick away, but I could not resist the temptation.

 

The pair of them attended the Scotland Yard Christmas festivities this evening, as they have in years past.  I have plans to visit my sister for the next few days, though I do not leave until tomorrow morning.

 

They returned home earlier than I had expected, and I went hastily to the kitchen to retrieve the eggnog I had prepared for the three of us.  I made sure that my tray was balanced before starting up the stairs; an unfortunate incident with Mr Holmes, a sudden deduction, and a tray of soup hardly a month after he began his residence at Baker Street had led me to realise that a carefully balanced tray was integral to avoiding extra laundry and minor injury.

 

When I entered the room, my lodgers were standing near the fire, the Doctor lighting first his pipe, then his friend’s.  “Ah, happy Christmas, Mrs Hudson,” said the Doctor, turning to look at me.

 

“Not quite, Doctor,” I said warmly, setting the tray down and pouring the eggnog, “It is still only Christmas Eve, after all.”

 

“Not for much longer, Mrs Hudson!” said Mr Holmes, taking the glass I offered him.

 

“Very true, Mr Holmes,” I said, turning away to conceal my fond smile.  Although most of the rest of London sees my lodger only as the Great Detective, I have always seen him as little more than an overgrown child.  No doubt the readers of the Strand would be shocked and scandalized to learn this, but truly, anyone who spends any length of time with Mr Holmes, particularly when picking up after him, will notice the resemblance.

 

I poured myself a glass of eggnog and turned back to the boys, lifting it slightly in a toast.  “Happy Christmas,” I said, simply.

 

“And to you, Mrs Hudson,” said Dr Watson, warmly, clinking his glass against mine.  “Holmes?  Would you care to make a toast?”

 

Mr Holmes looked at the doctor for a long moment, before a grin flashed across his face and he said, “To our dear friends Lestrade and Gregson; may their debates never cease to entertain.”

 

Dr Watson burst out laughing, though I fear the joke was lost on me.  I cleared my throat again so that Mr Holmes would remember my presence, and, flicking my eyes to the mistletoe, said, “I do hope you two have a good Christmas Day.  I am going to visit my sister for a few days, but I have no doubt you will find a way to spend your time.”

 

After my statement, I sipped my eggnog until I could keep a suitably innocent expression in place.  I smiled gently at the dumbfounded look on Dr Watson’s face and dared enough to give a tiny wink to Mr Holmes, who to my surprise seemed absolutely flabbergasted.

 

“Happy Christmas,” I said calmly, and left the room.  I closed the door behind me and quick as thought, bent to press an ear to the keyhole.  While I normally do not stoop to such levels-usually standing just outside the door is enough-I wanted to hear exactly what their reactions would be.

 

“Holmes,” said Dr Watson, after a long moment, “Holmes, Mrs Hudson-“

 

“I know, Watson,” said Mr Holmes, sounding just as astonished.

 

“I have no idea how she-“ said the doctor, in a hushed tone of voice.

 

After a moment, Mr Holmes released a bark of laughter.  “Of course, Watson!” he cried, his voice triumphant, “My bedroom is just above her sitting room-no doubt she has…”

 

I could imagine the flush on Dr Watson’s face in the next moment, though I was unable to summon up a corresponding image for Mr Holmes.

 

“Well,” said Dr Watson, after another long silence, “She did say she was going to visit her sister for a few days…”

 

At this point, I stood up hastily and went down the stairs, quietly.  I am as fond of my lodgers as no doubt I would be of my own sons, had I ever borne any.  However, there are some things that even a nosy old busybody like myself has no need to hear.

 

“Happy Christmas, Mr Holmes, Dr Watson,” I murmured under my breath as I went into the kitchen to wash my cup.

Comments

[le-russe-satan.livejournal.com]

Hehe, Mrs. Hudson is eeevil. ^^ Thank you for the great Xmas gift! ))

[dreamwaffles.livejournal.com]

I'm very glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading it.

[daylyn.livejournal.com]

Awwwww... very sweet. I quite like Mrs. Hudson, and she was wonderful here. Thank you for the Christmas gift!

[dreamwaffles.livejournal.com]

I'm a fan of her too. I love the actress who plays her in the Granda series.

[dreamwaffles.livejournal.com]

*Granada, Granada, argh.

[nianeyna.livejournal.com]

I LOVE slasher!Mrs. Hudson. As I believe you already know. Your voice in this is just perfect, by the way - I think possibly my favorite line was this:

an unfortunate incident with Mr Holmes, a sudden deduction, and a tray of soup hardly a month after he began his residence at Baker Street had led me to realize that a carefully balanced tray was integral to avoiding extra laundry and minor injury.

I laughs muchly. ♥ Merry Christmas!

[dreamwaffles.livejournal.com]

Thank you ever so much, darling. :) I'm glad you enjoyed it!

That happens to be one of my favorite lines too. (The other is the one about not usually stooping to the keyhole because standing just outside the door is enough.)

[nianeyna.livejournal.com]

O.O That was my other favorite line too! Great minds and so forth, apparently. ;D

[miss-morland.livejournal.com]

Oh, sweet. Loved the 'green carnation' line. The dialogue rings true; I think you got their voices exactly right.

I know it's not betaed. Still, if you'd like a comment on the spelling, I noticed that 'realise' is spelled once with an s, once with a z. Just a small thing, which does not in any way ruin this lovely fic:-)

[dreamwaffles.livejournal.com]

Oh, blast it, I thought I'd caught all my Americanisms! -facepalm- Thanks for catching that!

And I'm glad you enjoyed it! Have a good New Years!

[sospan-fach.livejournal.com]

A lovely, short-and-sweet gift! The dry little asides are very nicely observed.

[dreamwaffles.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

For some reason, I have this enormous irrational fondness for a Mrs. Hudson with a sense of humor. Maybe because I believe she wouldn't have lasted two weeks as Holmes' landlady without one. :)