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[identity profile] scfrankles.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] holmes_minor
Title: Stirring Things Up
Wordcount: 466 words
Characters/Pairings: Mrs. Hudson, Bessie, Holmes, Watson, Holmes/Watson (possibly)
Rating: G
Warnings/Content: N/A
Author’s Notes: Written for the August Prompt: Hand Utensils

“Bessie…” Mrs. Hudson was rummaging in a drawer. “Have you seen my wooden spoon?”

Bessie was sitting at the kitchen table, playing with a little girl of about three. “Um, perhaps…?”

Mrs. Hudson turned round. “What do you mean, ‘perha—’? Oh.”

Her maid was holding up the spoon, which now had a face drawn on it in ink. Various oddments of fabric were tied around it to make a dress.

Bessie looked guilty.

“Aileen was sad because her parents are still at the…”

She mouthed the words.

Little Aileen looked puzzled. “Do you mean ‘police station’, Bessie?”

“Er, yes. I do.”

Bessie attempted a reassuring look, and returned her attention to Mrs. Hudson.

“So I thought I would make her a doll to play with. Are you… annoyed?”

“Of course not!” said Mrs. Hudson. “It was very kind of you, dear.”

She looked at Aileen.

“I’m sure Mr. Holmes and the doctor will sort things out very quickly. But until then I hope you and Bessie have lots of fun.”

She beamed at them both, and then at the doll.

“My, but she’s lovely!”

Her eyebrows rose somewhat as she took a closer look.

“That’s… an impressive amount of makeup she seems to be wearing. And look at that dress! All those frills, and different colours.”

Her eyebrows went a little higher.

“Perhaps a trifle too low cut at the front. And somewhat short in the skirts…”

She smiled at Aileen.

“What do you call her, dear?”

“Mrs. Hudson!” said Aileen proudly.

“Yes…” said Mrs. Hudson.

Bessie smiled weakly. “I hope you don’t mind. Only Aileen says you’re such a nice lady and she so admires you and—”

Mrs. Hudson burst out laughing. “I’m very flattered, dear!”

She held up a hand.

“We should do the rest of the household too!”

She turned back to the drawer,

“Here’s three teaspoons for you, Aileen and Billy. And a soup spoon for the doctor. Oh! And a dessert spoon for Mr. Holmes…”

Watson stepped backwards out of the kitchen, and quietly reclosed the door.

“Well?” said Holmes. “Did you find out what all the noise is about?”

Watson shrugged. “As far as I can tell, they’re making a soup spoon and dessert spoon ‘kiss’, pausing to laugh uproariously, and then going back and doing the whole bizarre procedure all over again.”

“Each to their own, I suppose…” Holmes gestured forwards. “Shall we go and have a sit-down, dear fellow, while Miss O’Connor finishes her game? Then we can tell her the good news about her parents and conduct her home.”

“An excellent idea, Holmes.”

Watson shook his head and muttered to himself as he followed Holmes in the direction of the stairs.

“Spoons kissing, if you please… And that wooden spoon had no sense of style at all.”
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