hudson type


(via Railroad Crossing at the Hesston Steam Museum)

Idea for Sherlock series 4 that will never happen in a month of Sundays, but still makes me smile:

Sherlock, in the hospital, after some major incident. Mycroft, alone in his office, head in hands. With a sigh, he finally picks up the phone and dials a number. A beat. A muffled greeting. Someone just woken up, bleary-voiced and no doubt bleary-eyed.

“Hello,” he says drily, disapproving of whatever it is he has to do. “No doubt you’ve heard, so I’ll make this short. Time for you to step up.”

He puts down the phone.

In 221b, Mrs Hudson, hoovering the living room floor, answers to a knock on the door.

“Hi Mrs Hudson,” says Molly shyly. “Do you know where Sherlock’s stuff is?”

“Why do you need to know?” asks Mrs Hudson, also offering a cup of tea. Molly politely declines the tea.

“It’s okay,” she says, when Mrs Hudson insists, speaking with a growing brightness, though her eyes remain sad and apprehensive. “I’m just here to collect his legal documents, just in case – you know.”

She looks too uncomfortable to say what they’re all thinking.

“Ooh, I didn’t know he had any of those. He’s never seemed like the type,” Mrs Hudson says, as Molly searches the desk in the living room, tidying everything away as she goes. She moves into the bedroom, and Mrs Hudson follows.

“He’ll have them somewhere nobody thinks to put them,” Molly mutters. “If I know him at all.”

A thought strikes Mrs Hudson. “Are you sure you’re allowed to do this dear? What about… legal rights?”

“Got those when I married him,” Molly says blithely, jumping in surprise at the sound of Mrs Hudson falling towards the floor in a faint.


(via Mid South Live Steamers Spring Meet  )