Enjoy! Disclaimer- Santa has failed me...

Mrs. Hudson stood behind the counter in the small restaurant that she owned, waiting for her next customer. The place was fairly vacant at the time, only one man sat in the corner of the place, sipping at his coffee while immersing himself in the newspaper he had purchased just a bit earlier. She checked the clock. Nine thirty-seven PM, it was no wonder that business was so very slow. The bells attached to the door jingled and Mrs. Hudson looked up. Entering was a young man, no more than twenty to her best guess. He had mops of unkempt, curly black hair, was about six feet in height and exceedingly thin. His skin was pale, she noticed as he walked up to the counter, paler than most who made their way through the area anyways. He ordered a bowl of soup in a surprisingly deep, baritone voice as reached for his pockets as Mrs. Hudson rang up how much he owed. She finished and watched the young man dig in his pockets, fingers shaking. Check that, his entire body had a very slight tremor. A junkie then, in need of a hit. She was at the age where most people would assume that she was oblivious to the word 'junkie' and its meaning, but being a shopkeeper on top of a landlady kept her on her toes and alert. He finally gave up the search for money, looking up at her helplessly.

" I- I'm sorry. I've forgotten my money-"

Lies. He hadn't forgotten the money, he'd never had it in the first place. His hair, his habits, his uncared for, torn clothing, and the air of gauntness that hung about him, all screamed homeless. She softened, Mrs. Hudson was a kind woman, never having children herself, she tended to act motherly to most everyone.

" That's quite alright dear. You have this bowl, no charge." She offered. The young mans eyebrows shot up in surprise at the proposition.

" Thank you Mrs. Hudson." He murmured quietly. The landlady became stock still. The man looked up at her for a moment, puzzled, before apparently realizing what he'd done to cause the reaction.

" Oh. Yes. Sorry about that. I um, noticed your name tag, says Mrs. H on it you see. And there...I've got a good storage of native London names. You're a native of London, clearly. And around seventy. You've...You've not had children, so that cuts out an entire generation of surnames...erm, you've lived in this area most all of your life so that narrows down the field quite a bit more...and you've married another native of London..." He cleared his throat. " I've got a friend who came here. Said your name was Mrs. Hudson." He finished lamely. Mrs. Hudson nodded at the obvious lie her customer had told her.

" I see..." She said, handing him the bowl of soup. He accepted it, hands still shaking violently, to the point where Hudson thought that he might drop the bowl. But his grip held and he left to the outer most corner of the room, proceeding to slowly consume the bowl of soup over the next forty minutes. When he had finally finished he made his way back over to the counter, returning the now empty bowl to Mrs. Hudson.

" Thank you." He said, turning for the exit.

" You're quite welcome." Sher replied. A sudden curiously drove the next words she spoke, a need to know something, anything, about the strange young man she had helped.

" What might your name be?" She asked before he had the opportunity to push the door open and leave. He turned to face her.

" Sherlock Holmes." He replied. And only then, after a few seconds that seemed to stretch for eternity for the both of them, did he leave. Mrs. Hudson listened to the jingling if the bells that confirmed his leaving. Only it wasn't permanent, not really. Because she had a feeling that she would be seeing quite a bit more of the mysterious Sherlock Holmes in the near future.

Tell me what you thought! Might continue it, then again I might not. Anything is possible. It's Christmas, so go ahead and leave are review on your way out! On that note, have a fantastic Christmas, Hanukkah, or whatever you may celebrate, and DFTBA!