Fic: A Confined Space: PG

[scfrankles]

Title: A Confined Space
Wordcount: 500 words
Characters/Pairings: Mrs. Hudson's Broom Cupboard, Holmes/Hopkins, Watson/Lestrade
Rating: PG
Warnings/Content: N/A
Author’s Notes: Written for the August 2018 prompt: Small Moments of Happiness.

It’s so rare to have time to yourself when you’re a broom cupboard.

Usually I’m sharing my space with the brushes and dusters and so on. And yes, they’re all pleasant objects. But when you’ve heard the large bucket telling the story about the ’79 roof leak for the hundredth time and listened yet again to the oldest mop comparing the kitchen floor with the hall floor in excruciating detail, you do start to long for a little peace and quiet.

And today for once I have it! Mrs. Hudson has removed all of my companions and is using them to clean the house from top to bottom. Heard her at the crack of dawn banging about upstairs, round about lunchtime she was in the hall, and now I can just hear her down in the cellar—that should keep her busy for some hours still, if previous reports from the scrubbing brush are anything to go by.

So here I am all alone. Haven’t even been bothered by the tenants and their friends, which I have to say I’m very grateful for.

It’s not that I begrudge Mr. Holmes and the others their brief moments of… happiness. But it’s not really part of the job requirement for a broom cupboard, is it? It all came as quite a surprise. I believe bedrooms get A Talk or a pamphlet or something. I just got A Rude Awakening.

(Very, very rude.)

But the doctor was called out first thing for a patient, and then Mr. Holmes was collected by Inspector Hopkins and Inspector Lestrade. And when Dr. Watson returned from his medical duties, Mrs. Hudson quickly sent him off after them.

I’m taking every advantage while they’re gone. I’ve had a little rest. And now I’m going to do a few stretches. My panelling has been creaking lately, and it’s always embarrassing having to do my manipulation exercises in front of the feather dusters. I know they’re just being cheeky but it can be so—

Oh.

Oh no.

That’s the front door. And that’s… Yes, four familiar voices. Four happy, familiar voices. They must have solved the case!

They’re coming closer.

Go upstairs and celebrate with a cup of tea. Go upstairs and celebrate with a cup of tea…

No, they’re stopping. Oh, bloody bonfires.

Hang on though. Hang on one jolly minute. I wonder if the exercises would allow me to…

Stretch and jiggle… Stretch and jiggle…

Aha! I’ve done it—jammed that lock shut!

Now they’re discussing the situation…

Blast! Lock picks have been suggested by Hopkins! (Someone will be getting thwacked by the long-handled sweeping brush in the near future, if I have anything to do with it. That broom owes me a favour.)

But Lestrade is suggesting they simply find somewhere else… And they’re all going upstairs… And I can hear them all overhead going into—

So that’s that! I get my peace and quiet after all!

Do feel a bit bad for the lumber room though…

Comments

[stonepicnicking_okapi]

Aw. This is such a Frankles fic. Feels like old times. :) I suppose their mood is too celebratory to worry about the ears in the lumber room. Maybe they'll just tack up a rug.

[scfrankles]

I hadn't considered the ears! ^^" That poor lumber room has far more problems than the broom cupboard has ^____^

[smallhobbit]

Brilliant - it's not often we get to see life from the POV of the Broom Cupboard.

[scfrankles]

The Broom Cupboard more than deserves to have its say on occasion ^___^