Mrs Hudson - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
*squeaks in pain*
System collapse
When Mrs Hudson entered the sitting room of 221b Bakerstreet, a smile appeared on her face. John had brought his daughter to Bakerstreet this morning, mumbled something about striking daycare and a sick babysitter and left in a hurry. And since then, Sherlock was apparently enjoying his time with the little girl. He was lying on his back on the floor and Rosie was sitting on his chest, playing with the stuffed bee Sherlock had given to her in the early days, and giggling vigorously. Sherlock was smiling up at her, watching his beloved girl with a warm and fond gaze.
“Juhu,” Mrs Hudson announced herself while entering the flat. “I've brought some tea and biscuits, thought you could need some, after all this playing around.” She saw Rosies eyes widen in delight, nod excitedly and jump a little on Sherlocks chest, what forced a huffing sound from the man. “All right little bee,” he said and wrapped his large hands around her body. He lifted her abruptedly and held her in the air with outstretched arms, hovering over his own body. She burst into laugher, the sound light and clear and she was wriggling and squirming in Sherlocks grasp. When he was about to lower her to her feet she screamed 'noo' and Sherlock lifted her up again, mirroring Rosie's grin.
Mrs Hudson smiled while setting the table and followed the scenery from the corners of her eyes. If only John could see how lovely Sherlock was with the little girl. But he was always so reserved when John was around. Finally Sherlock put Rosie down on the floor. “Well, I think this is enough,” he smiled at her and wanted to stand up himself, but as he put weight on his left foot, he winced slightly. He'd had a sprained ankle some weeks ago, but apparently it still ached when he put weight on it after sitting for a long time. Rosie must have noticed as well, because she stopped on her way to the kitchen and turned towards him. “Papa?” She asked concerned.
Mrs Hudson froze at the exclamation and just stared for a moment. Eventually a warm feeling exploded in her chest and she gasped and put her hands over her mouth to cover the delighted sound that wanted to escape her. This was so adorable, Rosie and Sherlock really had a special-
But as she turned her gaze to Sherlock, Mrs Hudson's smile faded and the warm feeling turned to ice, apparently boring holes into her chest and knotting her stomach. The man was displaying an expression of utter shock, he was pale, even more so than usual, his breathing was strained and ragged, it was as if he was paralysed, except his violently shaking hands and rapid blinking. Mrs Hudson felt like she could watch his mind work, the wheels turning and turning, but not coming up with anything. And she could see this brilliant mind collapse, just... shutting down. Completely. Sherlock was staring at the girl with wide eyes, not moving for a very long time, and he looked so scared, nearly horrified, that Mrs Hudson couldn't move either. She could see that Sherlock was taking deep breaths, trying to regain control, but she could still see the utter panic in his eyes when he crouched down in front of Rosie.
“Rosie,” he said, his voice trembling and a bit hoarse, but urgent. “Don't... Please, don't say that in front of your Daddy, or mention it at all.” Mrs Hudson's mouth was hanging open. No, he couldn't mean that, could he? What was he saying? Rosie seemed confused as well. “But,” she said, “But you play with me, I have my own bed here, and I've read that some children have two Mothers or two Dads. Why can't you be my Dad? Daddy likes you too.” Sherlock shook his had. “Please, little bee, I don't think your father would like this idea, he doesn't like me like this, like-” He paused, swallowed. “I'm just a friend. You belong with him. Please, don't mention it to him, yeah?” And just with that, Mrs Hudson could feel her heart crack. Did Sherlock really think- Well, what did John make him think? She wasn't able to find words for the misery she saw right in front of her, for the pained expression on Sherlock's features, his obvious hurt when he told Rosie not to call him her father, even though he clearly wished she would. He was so deeply, deeply in love with the Watsons, with John, as with the little girl, but he was afraid of John's reaction. Because he didn't dare to show his feelings. Because he thought John wasn't reciprocating. Well, Mrs Hudson wasn't sure herself. Sometimes she thought, there must be something, clearly, but sometimes the doctor was denying it so profoundly. And wasn't that terrible in itself? Rosie was nodding slowly and said hesitantly: “Okay...?” It sounded more like a question. “Thanks,” Sherlock said, but he was still looking so incredible sad. Oh God, Mrs Hudson thought, oh dear Lord. It was as if the ache in her chest was caused by a real dagger made of ice. “Oh Sherlock...” she said, and the man lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes wide, and he was looking so young, so unbelievable young and vulnerable.
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