Childhood Heroes {Sherlock Fanfiction}

We All Need A Mrs. Hudson

Lillian's POV

"Thank you," I muttered to the police officer who drove me home. He nodded his head and went back to the car.

"Mrs. Hudson," I softly called to the quiet indoor. Sherlock was basically the siren in here.

Mrs. Hudson emerges from her flat and sees me wrapped in a shock blanket, shaking.

"What happened, dear? Come here, do you need anything?" She wrapped her arms around me, bringing me to her kitchen. We sat on the small table, she gives me a glass of water.

"I found out my Mum's dead."

Mrs. Hudson let out a gasp then hugged me immediately. She rubbed her hand on my arm as I rest my head on her frail body.

"That is very awful."

I should be crying right now, why am I not? There's no tears streaming down my face, my breathing is normal, I just feel... empty all of a sudden.

1 hour ago
Scotland Yard Questioning Room

"Yes, a dead body."

"Dead body?" I stood up, going to Sherlock. "Whose?"

He only gave me a look of sympathy. He doesn't do that. Why would he do that?

"Female, 177 centimeters (5'8") in height, brown hair, hazel eyes. We're being called to inspect more," Sherlock stated. "I reckon those descriptions remind you of someone."

I stood there frozen as I heard those words fell from his lips.

"How-how did she die?" I asked, staring blankly to him.

"A shot on the head that blew off—"

"Sherlock, she's in shock." Dr. Watson's voice echoed in my head. "Get emergency response."

Sherlock ran and next thing I know, I was wrapped in a blanket, a flashlight pointed at my eye, someone speaking to me. I was brought back to Baker Street then.

Present

"It is," I mumbled, agreeing to Mrs. Hudson.

"It's alright to cry. You can cry, dear, and I won't judge. Shh..."

She soothed me with those words, brushing my hair, and rubbing my arm. But I never cried, not even a tear nor sob. Mrs. Hudson stayed by my side and I felt like in this nightmare, she's represents a very caring grandmother. I hope she's real, it would break my heart more if she's another fake.

"Where's your father then?" She asks. She's a curious person by nature. Often confused by what she learns and yet she stays curious.

"He's missing. That's the case I told Sherlock."

I took a deep breath and leaned away from her. She pats my arm twice and sits in front of me.

"Is there anyone who would take care of you while he's gone?"

I shook my head. "I haven't met other family members in real life."

"You can't just stay in the streets alone. I have a spare bed, you can stay here with us." She holds my hand, which I only noticed was curled in a fist.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Hudson but I can't take that. You don't want another person taking up space or another mouth to feed."

"It's all alright, love. Staying outside is not safe for you and my conscience will eat me when I know I could help you."

She smiled at me and I returned it. "Thank you Mrs. Hudson."

"I just made my special chowder, it would be nice to share it with someone." She stands up and gets two bowls. She scoops some chowder from the large pot and serves it.

"I'm afraid I wasn't introduced properly. I'm Lillian by the way."

"You have a wonderful name, darling. I have a friend of the same, you know. She was just as friendly as you but she's always a rebel. Why there was never a day I hear people talking about her ruthlessness..."

Mrs. Hudson told me more than topic of her Lillian friend. It went to her adventure as well when she was younger. Of course, she made it PG but I read between the lines. Then to how she secretly likes cooking, it was her way of passing time.

She likes telling stories as well, I perceive.

When we finished eating the corn chowder, she walks to the bedroom, telling me she'll set up the fold-up-mattress. I stopped and convinced her I'll do it myself. I was becoming a load already in the household.

Someone rang the doorbell as I was setting the mattress on the floor. Mrs. Hudson took it and came back saying someone sent a bag and placed it by the door.

"Probably another baggage for Sherlock. There's always something new for him every day, that means the stock in the fridge never runs out. It has more body parts than actual food. Oh, Sherlock love, at least he finally has John. No one could be better."

"So they just came in one day and told you they're taking the room upstairs?"

"No. Sherlock was looking for a flatmate then he returned with one. He was more than happy he found John, actually. So many happened that day." Mrs. Hudson chuckles.

I chuckled as well, understanding what she's implying.

For the whole afternoon, I helped Mrs. Hudson with the chores, including fixing up Sherlock's flat.

He is a very busy guy. Last time, I noticed his violin was on the coffee table near the entrance and now it's beside a skull under the mirror. He has papers everywhere in the landing area and experiments in the kitchen.

"Is that... feet on the oven?" I muttered. Mrs. Hudson wasn't lying about the experiments, though this has exceeded what I imagined.

Before we left, Mrs. Hudson placed the paper bag in Sherlock's couch. I saw a glimpse of a note inside.

"Wait, it's mine?"

The note has 'Lillian M' written on it in my father's handwriting.

"What's inside?"

"Clothes." I whipped my head up to Mrs. Hudson. "Did you see who left it?"

"No, the bag was placed inside already."

I hurried to the windows, searching for a face or anyone acting strange. There were only ordinary passers-by outside, no sign of a stalker or my father.

"I'm in big trouble."