XXXIX

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"Alright, you two!"

Mrs. Hudson barged into the living room, her little hands on her hips, and her voice bursting with matronly authority.

John and Mycroft had been sitting in silence in the living room of 221b Baker Street, and Mrs. Hudson's private conversation with Sherlock had lasted for one whole hour. Now here she was, commanding attention like a captain commands his men.

"That's enough of sitting down, isn't it? We've things to do, boys..."

Mycroft opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but the old woman was too quick for him and promptly closed it.

"Not one word from you, Mycroft Holmes!" she scolded, pointing a thin finger at him. "I need you to get to your office now and standby on the telephone for a call from me. Off you go! Shoo, shoo!" she said, motioning impatiently toward the door.

Sherlock emerged from behind the landlady, and upon seeing him, Mycroft revolted.

"Sherlock, what the hell is going on? You don't expect me to—"

"I expect you to do what is required of you, Mycroft. Just get to your office. I'll be on the phone with you shortly and will explain everything. For now, just go."

Holding in what seemed to be all of hell itself, Mycroft Holmes shut his mouth and marched out of the door muttering indiscernible curses and threats. Sherlock only smiled to himself and cleared his throat.

"Erm...Sherlock, what actually is going on?" John asked.

"No time to explain now. Just know that I need you to run to the car storage down the street and fetch Mrs. Hudson's car. Don't crash it and be back here in ten minutes."

Mrs. Hudson threw a pair of keys at the confused doctor, who caught them before they hit him on the nose. Apart from the confusion, he was secretly delighted; he'd always wanted a go on Mrs. Hudson's car.

"You mean, I get to drive your car?" he asked the woman, trying not to grin too much.

"Only this once, John Watson," she said. "And if you so much as scratch the paint, I swear, I will have you pay for the damages!" she added, her voice suggesting real consequences.

"Y-yeah...okay," he said, hesitantly.

"Oh, and John," Sherlock said, before the doctor headed out the door, "if you happen to meet Billy down at the car storage, bring him back, would you? I'm going to need him here as well."

"Billy?!?" John demanded.

"Yes, Bill Wiggins! I'm going to need him here, so do be polite and let him in the car."

"And are you two in on this then?" John asked, pointing his finger between Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. "And I'm just supposed to...play along and do what you tell me? Is that it?"

Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock exchanged glances, and the old woman turned to John with a broad smile on her face and said in her sweetest little voice, "Oh, be a dear, John...the game is on! Now you hurry up and fetch my car, will you?"

John couldn't say no and was gone not a second later.

"Sherlock, Molly's just arrived," Mrs. Hudson said, going to the window and peeking through the thin curtains. "She's brought Rosie, too."

"Oh, lovely, do show her up, Mrs. Hudson, she can help us in our little endeavor. She's good with these kinds of things."

"Of course, Sherlock," she said, running daintily toward the stairs to let Molly in.

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