Mrs Hudson Is Never Wrong. Sherlock x Watson!Reader
Summary: You, Johns sister, are moving into 221B Baker Street. When you arrive, Sherlock finds you a little puzzling and doesn’t like it one bit.
Warnings: mild swearing, fluff————————
“Sherlock!” John screamed as he came hurtling into the living room of 221B Baker Street after hearing multiple crashes and a gun shot. The doctors eyes skimmed the room, trying to assess the damage that had been done by his roommate; The table that usually held his laptop, notes and all of their case files was thrown onto its side. As for the chairs that hadn’t been so lucky: Johns chair was tossed at an awkward angle against the fireplace, it’s cushions discarded in numerous places around the room. The lovely black sofa that lined the wall had tears down one side, it’s yellowed stuffing coming out of the gaps. The only part of the living room that was unchanged was the black chair that faced onto the kitchen. In it sat the infamous Sherlock Holmes, wearing his usual blue pyjamas and robe, and a gun in his hand pointed at the opposite wall. He seemed to completely unaware of the chaos that was around him, the chaos caused.
“What the fuck are you doing, Sherlock?”
“BORED,” was his only response before he fired another two rounds into the wall.
“SHERLOCK!” John exclaimed. Already worried about the events that were to occur today, he quickly began to right the furniture and deal with the mess. “I can’t believe you. I tell you that my sister is coming today, the first day that she will be living her and what do you do? You go and blow thirty rounds into the wall!”
“When did you say your sister was coming?” Sherlock asked, ignoring the fact that John was tidying up and obviously in need of help.
“Oh for fu-” John sighed, pushing the table back into its original place. “I told you about twenty times today alone Sherlock. What do you think I was moving in a bed and furniture and boxes into the spare room on Friday? For fun?”
"You… You moved furniture in? Huh. I didn’t even notice.” John only muttered his reply, something along the lines of ‘of course you bloody didn’t’. John dealt with the devastation in front of him for about thirty minutes in silence, at which he had only just stared to deal with the mountain of paper and folders that was on the floor. Still not moving from his chair, Sherlock piped up again, “I didn’t think you liked your sister? Isn’t she an alcoholic? Why on earth would you want her to move in? You hate her.” John sighed.
"One, I don’t hate her. I just don’t agree with her choice of… Lifestyle. Two, she’s a recovering alcoholic. And Three. I have more than one sister. Which yet again I told you but as usual you were not listening.” He huffed, “My parents had three children. Harriet, Me, and Y/N. When I found out that she got a job at Scotland Yard, I said that she should move in with us until she gets on her feet here. I was being nice cos she’s my little sister and I wanna make sure she’s okay.” “I’m Mycrofts little brother and somehow I doubt that he will invite me to live with him,” Sherlock replied. “That’s because you two don’t exactly act like brothers. You act more like you two hate each other,” John scoffed, placing the last of the papers onto the table, scanning the room to see if Sherlock had caused any other devastations that John had failed to miss. Thankfully he hadn’t. “Me and Y/N were quite close actually. As kids, we were always the two doing things together. I was always there to beat up the bully’s and she was always there to convince the girls that I was a catch; me and her were the perfect team.” A smile crept across the doctors fine lips as he remembered all the times you had shared together. One memory came across the strongest.
"Y/n! John! Get down here now!” Your mother called, knowing that it was your fault, much like it always was. You and John had to try and suppress the laughter as you entered the kitchen where your fuming mother stood next to your eldest sister, who seemed to have misplaced half of her hair and added pink, sparkly hair dye to the other. It looked good with the goth faze she was in. “What have you done to Harry’s hair!?” “What mum,” you smiled innocently. “All the serious goths are shaving and dying their hair these days. It’s the thing.” “Yeah mum, she’ll be the coolest of all the freaks,” you and John could no longer contain your laughter. Your sisters hair and mothers scarlet face was all to much. “Both of you are grounded! Upstairs! Now,” you mum screamed. You and your brother ran back upstairs in fits of giggles only just hearing your mother taking to your sister saying, “Don’t worry Hun. If need be we can dye it black.” This was followed by a groan from your sister.
John was brought out of his memory by Mrs Hudson entering the room, bring with her a tray of her homemade biscuits and a large pot of tea. She placed it on the small coffee table and sat on the somewhat damaged sofa, not even bothering to pour herself a cup. John moved in for a biscuit before he was swatted away by his landlady.
"John Watson, don’t you dare touch those,” she squeaked. “They are for your sister when she gets here. Won’t be long, so you can wait.”
"Wait you knew too! How come everyone knew that Johns sister who isn’t the drunk one was coming apart from me?!” Sherlock exclaimed.
"Oh Sherlock,” Mrs Hudson groaned, putting her head in her hands. “You weren’t listening again were you,” she asked. “I told you the other day, after I met her. Obviously I knew Sherlock, it’s my house. Oh she is a lovely girl, truly lovely. Very kind, helpful oh and also very pretty, Sherlock.”
"Why is that important?”
"Yeah,” John said, “why is that important? He’s not going to date my sister.”
"I’m not saying he will,” she protested. “But, if any girl is going to take this mans heart it’s likely to be your sister. She is very like you, John, and obviously that seems to be what Sherlock wants.”
"We’re… I’m not ga-” John was cut off by a small voice from the door that caused all the eyes in the room to dart toward it.
"John? Is there something you need to tell me?” You giggled, hearing your brothers sudden declaration. “I always did think you’d turn out more like Harry than me. Just didn’t expect it to be in that sense.” John only rolled his eyes at you as he pulled you into a giant hug, smiling that you had finally turned up.
"Y/n! Glad you here,” he grinned. “Take it you got the keys I posted to you then?”
"No, I climbed in through the window of this three story building John. Yes I got the key.”
“Right, stupid question,” he joked. Before he could ask you anymore questions, Mrs Hudson had pulled you into another big hug, obviously as happy as John was that you had turned up.
"Oh it’s so good to see you, Y/n!”
"You too, Mrs Hudson.”
” Have you met Sherlock yet love?”
“No, she hasn’t.” Sherlock replied for you, making his way over to you. His eyes wandered up and down you, not in a perverted way just in a way as if he was trying to work you out. Every detail of you was captured in his blue hues and yet for some reason, Sherlock couldn’t read you. He tried, and tried, and tried but for some reason all he saw was a girl, wearing a dark dress that swayed above the knees and a smile knitted cardigan. Nothing else. Just a person. No deep secrets, or tells of your journey. Just you. Realising he had been standing in front of you for quite sometime, he extended his hand to you, “Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.” You took his hand, giving it a light shake before pulling away.
"Y/n, Y/n Watson.” You replied, mimicking the monotone voice that he had addressed you in. Both of you just looked at each other, waiting for the other to say something, do something. This lasted until your bother coughed and ushered you onto the sofa. Sherlock and Mrs Hudson followed suit, Sherlock sitting back in his chair, Mrs Hudson joining you on the coach. John stood and poured you all a cup of tea, handing them round. Mrs Hudson, quite proudly, offered you one of her home made biscuits which you took gladly. After taking a bite you complimented her on her baking skills, to which she smiled greatly at, even blushing a little. For the next few hours you all chatted, about anything and everything you could. Well all of you except for Sherlock who just sat back, watching you and everything you did. Sherlock never had a problem reading people, but for some reason the more he tried to deduce you the more questions he was met with,
<i>What does she do? Is she with someone? Why is she really here? Confident? Who is she?</i>
"Do you want another tea,” Johns voice drew Sherlock from his place of questioning.
"No thank you,” you replied, gathering your belongings. “I’m rather tired,”
<i>is she? She looks well rested to me. Actually she looks rather… Pretty… to me</i>Sherlock thought.
"I’m gonna head to bed,” you hugged Mrs Hudson, thanking her for the biscuits and the room, gave a big hug to John along with a small peck on the cheek and turned to Sherlock. “Night, Sherlock.” And with that you were gone, the only remains of you was the small pitter patter of your feet climbing the stairs to your new room. Mrs Hudson left not long after, leaving Sherlock and John alone.
"Thank you,” John smiled as he cleared away to cups from the evening.
"For what?” Sherlock replied, walking toward where the doctor stood cleaning mugs.
"I didn’t do anything.”
"Exactly,” John laughed. "You didn’t do anything. You didn’t do your usual of deducing and pissing off my sister.”
"I would of if I could.”
"N-nothing. Forget I said anything.”
"You can’t read my sister can you?” Sherlock didn’t even bother replying just stomped off into his room, slamming the door behind him. A smile grazed Johns lips as he too headed to bed, mumbling to himshelf, ‘maybe Mrs Hudson was right.’