Not Afraid

Chapter Six - Hysterics

Things had changed in 221B Baker Street and it had not gone unnoticed. Mrs Hudson, the woman who was most attuned to her boys in the flat above, had noted the looks shared between Sherlock and John and pulled John aside three mornings after the evening of...well...sharing. Sherlock was taking an exorbitantly long time in the shower and John had Rosie sitting on his hip while he made toast and tea. Mrs Hudson poked her nose into the kitchen with her customary "ooo-oo" and leaned on the door frame.

"Good morning John," she said after a while.

"Good morning Mrs Hudson," John replied chirpily. He fetched a pot of raspberry jam from the fridge and set it on the bench before turning to face Mrs Hudson. She was looking at him oddly, he thought. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Mrs Hudson shook her head, widening her eyes in innocence. But John knew that look. He put down the spoon he was holding and hoisted Rosie further up on his hip.

"What is it?" he asked. Rosie grabbed a chunk of his shirt and began sucking on it. "No, no, Rosie, don't do that," he begged her, trying to remove it from her mouth. She didn't let go and he gave up, figuring he'd just change it later and throw it in the wash.

"How's Sherlock?" asked Mrs Hudson. John, being completely and utterly oblivious to both hints and implied meaning, shrugged, gesturing towards the bathroom. They could hear the gurgling of the plumbing that indicated someone was in the shower and...was that singing? Was Sherlock...singing in the shower? John couldn't believe his ears. Sherlock was singing in the shower!

"Apparently," John laughed, "Sherlock is in a very good mood."

Mrs Hudson didn't say a word but continued to eye John knowingly. He, however, didn't notice a thing, continuing to butter toast and pour hot water into the teapot, all the while making sure Rosie didn't smear butter on his face or eat something she shouldn't. At last, John sighed and turned to Mrs Hudson again.

"Okay, something's on your mind," he said, licking jam off his finger.

Mrs Hudson put her hands on her hips and gave him a severe look. "When exactly were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" John was baffled for a second. More than a second, truth be told. Mrs Hudson sighed deeply and in an exasperated tone, rather like a mother would.

"You know," she said, pointing first at John and then at the bathroom where the shower had ceased and Sherlock had stopped singing. "You and Sherlock!"

"What?" said John. And then, "Oh. Oh!"

"I thought so," Mrs Hudson said, clearly pleased with herself. With that, she turned to leave. John hastened after her.

"Wait," he said. She turned back to him. "It's not...it's not, you know, physical, or anything like that. It's...well, you know. It's..."

John trailed off awkwardly and after a second in which John felt as though he might die of embarrassment, Mrs Hudson burst into peals of laughter. Eventually, John couldn't help himself and joined in her giggling until the pair of them were clutching their stomachs and wheezing for air. Even Rosie had joined in, gurgling happily and dribbling all over John's shirt.