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Title: Mrs. Hudson & the Splatter Monster
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
For:
smallhobbit HAPPY birthday! (31 Oct) This is Hobbit's Splatter Monster:

Mrs. Hudson would later blame the sheer quantity of work required to clean up after one of Mister Holmes’ celebratory fetes for his Irregulars for the fact that she wiped up the stain three times, in three different parts of the kitchen, before she realised ‘it weren’t a right thing.’
Mrs. Hudson never begrudged her tenant these little festivities. The young lads and lassies who aided the detective in his cases were a respectful, if rambunctious, lot, and they deserved their well-earned treat.
But it was a lot of work. And created more than a few messes. And objects were misplaced.
After years of cigars in the coal scuttle, nothing could really surprise Mrs. Hudson—not even a South American blowpipe (or was it an African flute?) finding its way into her kitchen. She put the instrument in a safe place, out of the campaign, resumed tidying and scrubbing with her usual aplomb.
It was then she noticed that the stain on the table was, in fact, the same stain that had been on the chair and, she suspected, the very same stain that had been on her best skillet hanging on a peg.
The same exact stain. Curious.
She held the rag in hand and moved towards it.
It threw itself from table to wall. And opened its eyes.
“Splatter monster!”
Her mother had spoken of it. Her grandmother, too. But she’d never seen one herself.
It blinked, and Mrs. Hudson took the gesture as a challenge.
What followed was high comedy.
Mrs. Hudson lunged. The splatter monster leapt.
Mrs. Hudson thought she detected a bit of amusement, or perhaps taunting, in the creature’s eyes when she lunged a second time. She was certain she saw it by the fourth dash.
On and on, they went playing cat-and-mouse around the kitchen.
Finally, the folly of what she was doing dawned on a panting, sweating Mrs. Hudson. She prided herself on a spotless kitchen, but perhaps a one-spot kitchen would suffice for the interim.
So, she returned to her work, electing to ignore the interloper.
It tried to lure her into another fray, to no avail. Mrs. Hudson stood firm in her indifference.
When the kitchen was in almost-perfect order, Mrs. Hudson gave the splatter monster her attention.
It looked…
…sad.
Mrs. Hudson addressed it. “You need to be where your nature will be appreciated.”
It took the better part of an hour, all her remaining energy, and two bits of India rubber, but Mrs. Hudson caught the splatter monster inside the corked-up flute (or blowpipe).
She presented the flute to last of the Irregulars, the ones who had been kind-hearted enough to stay behind and help tidy up the sitting room with a promise not to open it until they were well away from Baker Street. Mister Holmes’ objections died on his lips when he saw the resolve in his landlady’s gaze.
And so the splatter monster went on to do mischief, and Mrs. Hudson’s pristine domesticity was preserved.
Rating: Gen
Length: 500
For:
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Mrs. Hudson would later blame the sheer quantity of work required to clean up after one of Mister Holmes’ celebratory fetes for his Irregulars for the fact that she wiped up the stain three times, in three different parts of the kitchen, before she realised ‘it weren’t a right thing.’
Mrs. Hudson never begrudged her tenant these little festivities. The young lads and lassies who aided the detective in his cases were a respectful, if rambunctious, lot, and they deserved their well-earned treat.
But it was a lot of work. And created more than a few messes. And objects were misplaced.
After years of cigars in the coal scuttle, nothing could really surprise Mrs. Hudson—not even a South American blowpipe (or was it an African flute?) finding its way into her kitchen. She put the instrument in a safe place, out of the campaign, resumed tidying and scrubbing with her usual aplomb.
It was then she noticed that the stain on the table was, in fact, the same stain that had been on the chair and, she suspected, the very same stain that had been on her best skillet hanging on a peg.
The same exact stain. Curious.
She held the rag in hand and moved towards it.
It threw itself from table to wall. And opened its eyes.
“Splatter monster!”
Her mother had spoken of it. Her grandmother, too. But she’d never seen one herself.
It blinked, and Mrs. Hudson took the gesture as a challenge.
What followed was high comedy.
Mrs. Hudson lunged. The splatter monster leapt.
Mrs. Hudson thought she detected a bit of amusement, or perhaps taunting, in the creature’s eyes when she lunged a second time. She was certain she saw it by the fourth dash.
On and on, they went playing cat-and-mouse around the kitchen.
Finally, the folly of what she was doing dawned on a panting, sweating Mrs. Hudson. She prided herself on a spotless kitchen, but perhaps a one-spot kitchen would suffice for the interim.
So, she returned to her work, electing to ignore the interloper.
It tried to lure her into another fray, to no avail. Mrs. Hudson stood firm in her indifference.
When the kitchen was in almost-perfect order, Mrs. Hudson gave the splatter monster her attention.
It looked…
…sad.
Mrs. Hudson addressed it. “You need to be where your nature will be appreciated.”
It took the better part of an hour, all her remaining energy, and two bits of India rubber, but Mrs. Hudson caught the splatter monster inside the corked-up flute (or blowpipe).
She presented the flute to last of the Irregulars, the ones who had been kind-hearted enough to stay behind and help tidy up the sitting room with a promise not to open it until they were well away from Baker Street. Mister Holmes’ objections died on his lips when he saw the resolve in his landlady’s gaze.
And so the splatter monster went on to do mischief, and Mrs. Hudson’s pristine domesticity was preserved.
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Date: 2023-10-30 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-10-30 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-10-31 01:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-11-01 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-11-01 08:54 pm (UTC)A belated happy birthday to Small Hobbit! ^___^
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Date: 2023-11-01 11:36 pm (UTC)[I hope you're okay. I was getting worried. ]