"What do you mean someone's moving in downstairs?"

The elder woman looked at her hands uncomfortabley. She didn't want to be have to be the one to tell Sherlock the news. She had known what his reaction would be and she wasn't wrong at all.

"What I said. Someones moving in to 221/C."

"But you said its damp. You said no one would take it."

"I don't know Sherlock, they must be desperate or something. Look dear, try not to worry. I'm sure they'll be very nice." She tried to console him but it was futile. He had turned his back on her, blue dressing gown swooshing with the movement.

"Mrs Hudson, I don't care if they're nice I don't want anyone to move in there."

"Why Sherlock?"

"It'll change things." Mrs Hudson had to fight of the urge to giggle. She would've of thought he'd be used to change by now, what with' John and Mary and everything that had happened.

"You won't even have to see them if you really don't want to."

"But I will because they'll insist on being neighbourly and aarrgghh!" Sherlock collapsed on the sofa, sulking. Again. Mrs Hudson sighed.

"Look Sherlock, I …. I need the money and, it'll only be for a little while."

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder.

"If you needed money all you had to do is ask."

"I am not a charity case Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson shouted, exasperated. This made Sherlock jump. Mrs Hudson never shouted. "I will make my own money."

"Fine!" He snapped back turning to face the sofa again. Mrs Hudson shifted her feet uncormfortalbley. Suddnenly he shot up, letting his dressing gown fall from his shoulders and grabbing his coat. "I'm going to Barts."

The old woman sighed and followed him out, clinging to the hope that a nice body would put him in a better mood.