"What are you wearing?" - "It's laundry day!"
(Link to ao3)
When John opened his eyes in the morning, it was to Sherlock watching him, diffuse morning light filtering through the curtains.
"Morning love," John mumbled and stretched his body under the blanket.
"What time is it?"
"Seven," Sherlock murmured back, not taking his eyes off John.
"Everything alright?" John asked, shifting a little closer to the warm body next to him.
Sherlock frowned, then smiled and nodded. "Perfectly fine."
"Right then," John smiled back and pressed a kiss on Sherlock’s lips.
"Let's have a nice lie in then."
Sherlock rolled his eyes but shuffled deeper under the blankets as well, tightened his arms around John's body.
"You looked, stressed. In your sleep. I was just… checking."
There was a slight tingling sensation in John's stomach at the confession, and he wanted to melt here and now.
"It's all fine," John murmured, already drifting back into a light sleep, wrapped in their mixed scent and cosy warmth.
It was the clattering in their kitchen that drove them out of bed about an hour later. Together they padded into the loo and tried to coordinate their morning routine, always standing in each other's way despite the practise they should’ve gathered in their time living together.
When they finally emerged from the loo, clothed and somewhat prepared for the day, to see what their landlady – not housekeeper – was up to this morning, they were in for a little surprise.
They stopped short in the doorway to the living room, gaping.
"What, what are you wearing?" Sherlock got out first.
"For the love of God, Mrs Hudson, come down there, your hip, you'll break your bones!" was what John shouted.
Their landlady turned on the spot where she was balancing on a side table – not a chair, she was standing on a small table – as if she were a tightrope walker.
"It's laundry day!" She stated, apparently as answer to both questions.
"Now that you're up, boys, could one of you get me this duster over there?"
John was hurrying towards her, and Sherlock was about to point out that he'd forgotten the duster, but John was already ordering the woman off that table. Yes, ordering.
"You should've just told us to get the curtains down. And honestly Mrs Hudson, on that table?"
Mrs Hudson patted his shoulder.
"I know you mean well dear, but I can do that myself. You were having a lazy morning, no reason to bother you with cleaning and all this," she tutted.
"Not exactly lazy with all that noise," Sherlock mumbled, and although John shot him a sharp look, their landlady apparently didn't hear.
Louder, Sherlock asked, "And what has laundry day to do with what you're wearing?"
Mrs Hudson looked down her body.
"I don't know what you're trying to tell me. I got this just last week, it's nice, isn't it?"
John and Sherlock eyed her outfit, searching for the right words.
She was wearing a yellow shirt and a light blue apron with cherries and strawberries on it. On top of that she was wearing a blue… it looked like a bath cap.
"It's, er..." John trailed off.
"It's practical, that's what it is. I'm washing most of my clothes today, and on top of that things like your curtains, which haven't seen water for years, I don't want to get all dirty.”
Sherlock blinked at her. "And you're wearing that apron, because..."
"There are so many pockets, it's practical, dear. One day you'll see sense and accept that sometimes function is more important than design.”
Sherlock and John both frowned, thinking about how their landlady would get all dressed up for a visit at Mrs Turner's. Or for the grocery store, at that.
"Besides, no one's seeing me like this. Well, apart from you boys, but you'll help me anyway."
Sherlock was still busy blinking, John already ahead of him. As always.
"Of course we'll help Mrs Hudson. Just tell us what you want us to do, and it will be done. And no more climbing on tables."
"Or chairs," Sherlock added, slowly catching up.
Well, there went their lazy day in. They'd just go to bed early this evening. At least they would be clean by then. And their flat would be too. Not that Sherlock liked the idea of that, but he'd lost this argument with his landlady often enough to know that it was futile to try and refuse. Besides, John liked the flat clean.
So they would be cleaning today. Well, washing, mostly, but that laundry day could develop into much more if they weren't careful.
Sherlock sighed, already thinking about how he could sneak in cuddles with John on the sofa over the day.
