She sat pensively on the sofa and watched John dozing peacefully in his armchair. Helping to look after a doctor recovering from a stab wound was probably not in the job description of the usual landlady, but Mrs. Hudson had long ago abandoned conventions when it came to her tenants. It did her good to see John sitting up and with good colour in his cheeks, and so she gazed on him to her heart's content while he slept.

Her mind wandered back to that horrible evening over a week ago, when that nice D.I. Lestrade had knocked on her door to tell her the news. She had caught a fleeting glimpse of Sherlock bounding up the stairs, wearing a hospital gown over his trousers and smelling strongly of blood and sweat. As Lestrade explained the situation to her, she found herself growing more and more angry with her boys. Running headlong into danger! Heedlessly chasing desperate criminals! Playing with guns and knives! What did they expect to happen? Of course one of them would meet with catastrophe! And did they give a thought to the anguish their careless actions might cause to those who loved them? Of course not! They did whatever they wanted, didn't they, without any consideration for anyone else.

But then Sherlock had stampeded back downstairs, clean-smelling and still damp from his rushed shower and change, looking like a frightened little boy who knew he'd done wrong and dreaded the consequences. And her motherly heart melted, and she hugged him tightly and assured him everything would be all right.

That kind, handsome D.I. Lestrade had then taken her and Sherlock in his police car back to St. Mary's to see poor, dear John. There Mary was, eyes red and nose runny, looking exhausted; and there was Molly, red-eyed and concerned; and Mrs. Hudson's blood pressure went up again. Those boys! Always dancing on the edge of calamity! Leaping joyously into danger with both feet, and never thinking to look first! Did they ever consider the worry they caused? What if John had died? What would she and Mary do then? Could those boys not think ahead to the disastrous consequences their chaos might cause?

But then Mary had ushered her into John's room, and she had looked down at that nearly bloodless, unconscious face. And she was a goner. Because she loved her boys with all her capacious, motherly heart, and not even a strong sense of self-preservation was going to change that.

It had been a week of cooking and of running to hospital and back: baking things she thought Sherlock might be tempted to eat; making sure Mary was fed and allowed time to rest; bringing John soft foods he could easily digest. Because, could she allow them to try to subsist on hospital fare? Of course not! Now it was lovely to have them home again, where she could keep a proper eye on things without wasting hours on travel. Looking after this threesome was a full-time job!

Mary's key was heard in the door and Mrs. Hudson rose to greet the girl.

"Oh, Mrs. H.! I'm so glad to be home! How are our boys getting on?" Mary asked as she hugged the older woman. Mrs. Hudson's heart warmed. Our boys!

One thing Mrs. Hudson appreciated about Mary was that she was wasn't selfish about John. So many of John's previous lady friends had not been willing to share John's time and affections with anyone else—not with his best friend and certainly not with his landlady! Mary, however, understood that John was loved by many people and never sought to interfere with the others who had claim to him. In fact, she actively worked to establish relationships of her own with John's friends. Mrs. Hudson found this to be both wise and caring on the young woman's part.

"John's been up and walking several times today," Mrs. Hudson told the young doctor. "He fell asleep there about an hour ago. I tried to get him to go to bed, but . . . ," she shrugged helplessly.

Mary chuckled. "Try getting John to do anything he doesn't want to do," she agreed. "I often wonder how he has the nerve to accuse Sherlock of being stubborn when he's the embodiment of stubborn himself!"

"And Sherlock went off with Greg on a case," Mrs. Hudson continued her report. "I nearly had to push him out the door, but I was determined to get him out of the house, for his own good. He hasn't seen the sun in over a week!"

"Good for you!" Mary praised. "You're quite right, it'll be the best thing for him." She turned her gaze upon her sleeping fiancé. "I hate to wake him, but it's time to change his dressings. Captain," she bent over him and breathed in his ear. "Wake up, Captain. Time to play doctor."

"Mmm," he mumbled and opened his eyes, smiling. "Hello, love. Whatever you say." He got up with effort and bit of help and moved slowly to lie prone on the couch.

Mary turned to Mrs. Hudson and winked. "See, what did I tell you? Try getting him to do anything he doesn't want to do!" She pulled her medical bag out from under the chair and got down to business, cleaning the port of his abdominal drain, changing his bandages, all the while chatting casually about her day. Mrs. Hudson was impressed with the young doctor's professional proficiency. John might have been just another patient to Mary, while the landlady nearly swooned every time she saw that horrid tube coming out of her dear boy's insides.

"There, that's a good boy," Mary teased when she'd finished, and helped him back to his beloved armchair. "You deserve a sweet for such exemplary behaviour." She sat on the arm of his chair and, leaning backwards, lightly kissed him, all professionalism out the window.

John's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I've been exceptionally good all day," he informed her gravely."I think I deserved a great many more sweets than that!" He pulled her down into his lap with more agility than he ought to have had, given his injury, and kissed her soundly.

"John, stop! You'll pull your stitches," Mary scolded, laughing.

"Might be worth it," he chuckled, kissing her again.

Mrs. Hudson blushed to see such antics. "Really, dears, can't this wait until after dinner? I mean, at my time of life. . . ."

John smiled up at her sheepishly. "Sorry, Mrs. H. I just haven't seen her all day, you know."

Mary extricated herself from him gently and got to her feet. "It's all right, dear. It's just part of his physical therapy," she grinned. The two women went into the kitchen to begin dinner.

"It's so good of you to let me move in, Mrs. H. I know it's not meant to be a three-person flat," Mary said as they worked.

"Oh, it's no trouble, dear. After all, if not for you, poor John would still be stuck in hospital. And to be honest, it's rather nice having another female about the place. There's a bit too much testosterone bounding about than I would like, some days, with the two of them." She said this wistfully, however, unable to mask her feelings. "I expect I'll miss all the carryings-on when there's just Sherlock here with me," she admitted. "I'll miss you both."

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson!" Mary cried tenderly, putting her arms around the older woman. "I'm not taking him away from you! He'll be here every day, working with Sherlock and helping you out around the house, just as usual," she assured her. "And I'll be here a great deal as well. You'll likely get to dread the very sight of me, I'll be here so often!"

"You might think so, dear," Mrs. Hudson said practically. "But marriage changes people. Old friends just sort of fade away and you make a new life for yourselves."

"Not going to happen!" Mary declared staunchly. "Anyway, you're not 'old friends'; you're family! You can't get rid of family, can you? Not even if you want to!"

"I suppose not, dear," Mrs. Hudson conceded, but she was unconvinced. She'd lived a long time. She'd seen it happen over and over again.

"Which reminds me," Mary went on. "You know I lost my mother when I was very young. I've had to celebrate every milestone of my life without a mother to share them with me. And I've had quite enough of that! Most girls get to plan their weddings with their mothers: would you consider helping me to plan mine? It would make me so happy if you would."

"Oh, my." Mrs. Hudson gasped. "I would be honoured, dear. I'm very touched that you want me to." She dabbed at the tears that sprang into her eyes. Perhaps Mary was right; perhaps she wouldn't have to learn to live without John and Mary in her life. Mary seemed determined to keep the little family together, didn't she? "Have you set a date?"

"We were thinking of having it in five weeks' time. John should be recovered enough by then," Mary told her. "I have three weeks' vacation coming to me, and John has had to quit his job already, due to the Accident. We'd like to have the reception as a picnic in Regent's Park. . . ." On she went, asking her landlady's opinion on flowers and food and dresses and music.

Five weeks! Mrs. Hudson's brain shifted into over-drive as she began thinking of all the details that would need to be seen to in such a short amount of time. "Here's what we must do first, dear," she began. And so they spent the rest of the evening finishing dinner, making lists, and chatting as if they'd known each other forever. It was a warm and comfortable feeling, very much like being part of a family. Mrs. Hudson thought she could easily get used to it.