Seventeen Steps

This is the shortest thing I think I've ever written (exactly 600 words)... It just popped into my head. I've become...slightly obsessed with Sherlock Holmes (who wouldn't?) and decided to try out my skills.
I apologize for any OOC-ness or if I did poorly at the usual Holmes &/or Watson dialogue.





Mrs. Hudson groaned and twisted her back, popping a joint or two, before picking up the tea tray to carry upstairs to Mr. Holmes’s and Dr. Watson’s rooms.

Up the seventeen steps. Why did the builders put seventeen? Why not some even number? Just one more or one less…

She sighed to herself and shook her head, exhausted of her own thoughts. She’d had them before, ever since Mr. Holmes insisted she know how many steps there were. She had stopped wondering over his crazy suggestions, and humored him when she had no reason to fight.

Pick your battles, she told herself and ascended the stairs slowly.

When her foot touched the second step, she heard a quiet whimper, but she paid it no mind.

On the fourth step, she heard a long moan, though she couldn’t determine if it was from distress or…something else.

On the seventh step, a cry of, “Harder, damnit! Please!” from Holmes.

The ninth step sent, “Fuck, Watson—John! Right there…” followed by a moan.

The tenth step brought, in Watson’s quieter tone, “Watch your mouth, Holmes. I have no desire for my ears to bleed.”

By the thirteenth step, she could hear a rhythmic, faint thumping that sounded suspiciously like… She blushed at her own assumptions.

On the fourteenth step, “Stop squirming so much, Holmes!” “I wouldn’t be squirming so much if you would just hit the right spot.”

“I apologize for my incompetence,” reached her ears on the sixteenth step. “You’re not incompetent, Watson, just—oh! Yes! Right…unh.” A long moan followed.

By the time she finally reached the door, she could hear small gasps that were basically nonexistent from further away, and which had her blushing to the tips of her ears.

She stood before the door for long moments, unsure if she should interrupt her tenants. Whatever they were doing was their business, not hers.

Tentatively, hesitantly, she knocked.

“Come in, Nanny,” Holmes called out around a gasp.

Still blushing, but obeying her tenant’s wishes, she opened the door cautiously. What she saw made her gasp in surprise.

Holmes was on the settee. Watson stood behind him…



…Massaging Holmes’s injured left shoulder. His arm was in a sling; he had wrenched his shoulder on the last case when he had tackled their perpetrator. Mrs. Hudson knew he’d been complaining about it lately. It seemed Watson had relented and massaged away as much of the ache as he could.

The thumping she had heard was Holmes’s foot bouncing against the floor.

She stood at the door in shock and embarrassment at her assumptions.

“Are you all right, Nanny?” Holmes smirked. He knew what she was thinking; it was rather obvious.

“I-I’m fine, Mr. Holmes. Thank you,” she murmured, setting down the tea tray and escaping quickly.

“Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Hudson,” Watson called after her.

The smirk on Holmes face expanded to a full-out grin. “Well, that was easy.”

“Whatever do you mean, Holmes?” Watson replied.

“Hmm.” He stood and rounded the settee to wrap his good arm around Watson. “Now, John, if she hears something she’s not supposed to, she’ll think you’re massaging my shoulder again. Until it heals, of course.”

Watson frowned slightly. “So…your shoulder was not truly hurting…”

“Oh, yes, it was. And I commend you on your excellent hands." He winked. "It was just the perfect opportunity.” He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on Watson’s nose. “And now is the perfect time… How about we make the best of it?”

Watson just smiled indulgently at his Holmes, and led the way to their bedroom.





Let me know what you think, please, and if I should continue in this fandom.