Chapter 10- Epilogue

"Now my pets, a little closer together," Madame Hudson encouraged, as John and Sherlock posed reluctantly on the small blue sofa in the drawing room.

As John watched Madame Hudson adjusting the lense on her expensive new camera, he reminisced on the events of the last few weeks: when they had re-entered the house Madame Hudson had been so thrilled to see Sherlock that she hadn't even noticed John for a full ten minutes! Which is a bloody long time to be stood around awquardly.

When she had noticed she had been surprised at first, unsure who he was, but when Sherlock had brushed against him to show that he was a friend of his she had been thrilled and, taking in his sorry state had immediately called for Snanderson to bring them something to eat, but, when he had not appeared, had resigned to getting it herself.

"Just this once, mind. I'm not the housekeeper!" She informed them as she filled two bowls to the top with fresh fish.

From there on it had been smooth sailing. It seemed she had been expecting him to stay from the moment she had realised Sherlock liked him, and he now joined in with almost everything Sherlock got up to on a daily basis. Snanderson had 'mysteriously left his job and ran away,' never to be seen again, Madame Hudson assumed that he had probably eloped with some girl, an idea that Sherlock openly scoffed at, but he had been scratched out of the will.

Madame Hudson moved over to the the sofa to quickly neaten up a patch of John's fur, saying "This young man really is very handsome! What do you say Sherlock? Shall we keep him in the family?" Sherlock simply purred gently and shifted in closer as Madame Hudson prodded him in John's direction before heading back over to the camera. "We need a man around the house," she teased, at which Sherlock had the grace to look just slightly offended.

"Now don't move! Smile, say cheese!" And with a puff of foul smelling smoke their picture had been taken. "Now run along downstairs! There's a surprise for you! And while I remember, I changed my will again, after all, I have to make sure you're both provided for, as well as your future little ones!" Her voice faded away as she danced from the room, Sherlock and John simply grinning slightly and sighing after the mad old woman.

They raced each other downstairs, to where they heard strange, suspiciously jazzy noises coming from one of the rooms.

"Lestrade?" Bawked John as he saw the older cat surrounded by his crew and what looked like half the other strays in Paris. "What are you doing here?"

"Madame Hudson's new foundation! She's started a home for all the alley cats of Paris!" He grinned, then looked a little nervous and added, quietly, "Oh, and err, John? The whole thing with Snanderson by the way, we, err, well we wanted to help, in fact we were on our way here but we just couldn't find the place, I erm, well I don't know what happened! Sorry mate."

Sherlock neglected to mention the residual smell of booze on Lestrade and his gang, obviously there had been a few repeat perfomances after they had first realised the amazing affects of wine.

"Nah! That's alright mate!" John smiled, and all was forgiven.

Lestrade however, now feeling elated, brough his trumpet to his lips once more and, immediately joined by Donovan, Angelo and Dimmock, began another round of "Everybody wants to be a cat", only this time, joined by Sarah, who had her head stuck in through an open window, Harry, Jim and Molly, 'Should they really be indoors?' John thought, 'Doesn't Madame Hudson know that birds are incontinent?', Mycroft and Anthea, 'Who the hell are they?' and anyone else in the room who knew the words.

Sherlock, seeing the slightly sick look on John's face, asked, "So, a little bird told me that one of our neighbours was bludgeoned to death last night in her bed. She lived alone so no-ones called the police yet... want to check it out?"

"Oh yeahhh!" cried John, leading the way out of the party.

And they both lived happily ever after... sort of.