Mrs Hudson's Herbal Soothers
It's not long before John writes out a proper prescription for Mrs Hudson. After all, with the amount of traffic in and out of Sherlock and his own flat by Lestrade and his lot, the good doctor can hardly chance the risk that their dear landlady might get caught out with something she really oughtn't have. And truly, that hip requires something to gentle the pain away. And so, Dr Watson ensures that Mrs Hudson is more than able to get a hold of her 'herbal soother' without worrying about repercussions (and truly, given that it does have a rather calming effect, it is quite the good idea if he'd rather not be evicted for Sherlock's shenanigans...).
However, it probably would have been best if he'd actually checked to see how the dear lady was, shall we say, applying her medication.
~
Honestly, it probably wouldn't have happened without Sherlock's casual disregard for personal possessions. He'd swooped into Mrs Hudson's flat to 'borrow' something or other, only to find that she'd gone over to Mrs Turner's for a spot of tea. And so, he'd taken the liberty of rummaging through her kitchen in order to find whatever it was exactly that he'd come for (and no matter how hard he tried the next day, that mystery item remained lost to memory) and found the tin tucked away.
Now, all who know Sherlock Holmes' habits are quite aware of the fact that, although he may claim that eating is boring and not often necessary, he will in fact help himself to any sort of baked treat that he can find. Mince tarts, biscuits, eclairs... the only reason he manages to stay so slim is his habit of ordering a certain ex-soldier to bring him tea. If that certain ex-soldier is annoyed enough by this (which is often), no tea will be forthcoming. And even if said ex-soldier is feeling generous, that generosity does not extend to finding sweets for the great lanky 5-year old to accompany his cuppa. On the very rare cases that Sherlock finds himself in the kitchen and actually looking for food, however, any and all sweets are in danger of consumption.
Case in point; Mrs Hudson's brownies.
~
When John finally finished his day at the surgery and turned his mobile back on, he had a few dozen texts from Sherlock.
John, I think I've been poisoned -SH
Send help -SH
Do we have jam? -SH
Where do we keep the jam? -SH
And the biscuits; where do we keep those? -SH
I didn't break the mug; it jumped -SH
Can you get milk? -SH
John, why have you failed to inform me that my feet are uncharacteristically large? -SH
I love your jumpers. They are soft like kittens. -SH
And so forth. Until:
John, when are you coming home? -SH
I'm hungry; let's have dinner -SH
By the time the good doctor arrived back at the flat (and to be fair, he had decided to take a cab instead of the tube upon reading the first message (though as he read the rest on the way, he became less worried and more amused)) the world's only consulting detective was curled up on the couch, fast asleep. The kitchen had been picked over with care and had nothing resembling food left in it. And John had resolved to speak with Mrs Hudson regarding her baking.
A/N: Based on a chat during a Sherlock watchalong
(20:30:39) professorfonz: Herbal soothers
(20:31:00) frederbee: ... Wait a second. Does Mrs Hudson have pot?
(20:31:12) frederbee: I want her to have pot now
(20:31:37) professorfonz: frederbee: Mrs Hudson IS pot
(20:31:52) professorfonz: imagine toking up with mrs Hudson though, what a hoot
(20:31:58) frederbee: I'm just imagining her making brownies... And Sherlock steals one
(20:32:20) professorfonz: frederbee: HEAD CANON ACCEPTED
(20:32:36) professorfonz: frederbee: CUE SHENANIGANS