Final Problem – AU

Holmes - Finale

"What will you do now, Doctor?" Mrs Hudson asked from her place on the settee. She had indeed been distracted by the arrival of her 'grandson', which had gotten us over the worst of the initial greetings, though none of us had escaped her embraces or scolding entirely.

There had been a rather magnificent set of journals waiting on the table in our old sitting room, and contained within the pages was nearly every sketch and map that Watson had made in the five years of his absence. Apparently he had contacted Mycroft at one point in the initial two years of our exile on an urgent matter, after which he had sent my brother the sketches he had completed once his portfolio became full. Mycroft had kept and mounted these into the journals upon the table, delivering them to Mrs Hudson when done. At her request we had sat down and leafed through them, supplying one or two stories to go with the pictures.

I planned to twit my brother mercilessly over his sentimentality at the next available opportunity.

"I don't want another practice," Watson said quietly. He had, being the organised man that he was, left instructions for those that remained behind if he and his wife should happen to die together. Those instructions had been used to bury his beloved in his absence. We would journey to her resting place together tomorrow morning – Watson to make his apologies for his long absence, I to make my apologies for my hand in her death.

"I shall register as a locum once more," he continued, "It will keep me busy, I am sure, and leave me time to assist Holmes on his cases – provided that is, he still wishes a comrade in his agency."

"I would go so far as to say that it is mandatory," I replied, "There is no agency without you, my dear friend. What would Holmes be without his Watson?"

"LeBeau," Neils replied at once, startling me into laughter. Watson chuckled heartily, tipping the boy a wink and nod that showed his agreement.

"Quite right!" I agreed, "And that little Frenchman wasn't a very interesting chap!"

"I didn't mind him," Watson's crooked smile spoke of mischief, "Though I think Charlie McLeod liked him better."

"Charlie McLeod?" Mrs Hudson asked, curiosity plain in her voice.

"Aye lassie, old Charlie went a travellin' wi' LeBeau for nigh on three years," the thick brogue was startling in this setting, and unwelcome, "They two Laddies were good friends."

"Oh dear," was our landlady's reply, "I do hope you didn't pick up Mr Holmes' way with disguises Dr Watson. One in the house is quite enough if you don't mind my saying so!"

"Charlie was the only disguise I ever used, Mrs Hudson, and he's a sight more respectable than some I could mention," Watson reassured her. The downstairs bell rang and our long suffering landlady got up to answer it.

"Just as well," was her parting shot, "I'd like a few days grace before this house returns to its status as an extension of Bedlam if you both please!"

"Oh I think we can manage that," I smirked, getting an impatient sniff in return.

By jove it was good to be home!

END

**Ducks behind nearest large enough object** See what happens when I'm snowbound for four days straight???? Yikes!