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“Time for bed, Sherlock.”
“Do I have to go now?” He was curled up in John’s armchair by the fire, already wearing the faded blue pyjamas with the racing cars on them. “Can’t I stay up late?”
“No, dear, not tonight.” Mrs Hudson held her hand out to him. “Come along now.”
He sighed, making a show of reluctance. Then he padded barefoot across the room and took her outstretched hand. “Yes, mummy.”
“Good boy, bathroom first, you need to brush your teeth and have a wee before you get into bed.”
“I don’t need to go.”
“I’m sure that you do and those teeth definitely need brushing.”
Mrs Hudson led Sherlock down the hallway into the bathroom. She put some toothpaste onto his brush and handed it to him. “Make sure you do it properly and don’t forget to rinse.”
“No, mummy.” Sherlock started to brush his teeth. He took the toothbrush out of his mouth and frowned at it. “I don’t like this toothpaste, can’t I have the strawberry one instead?”
“I’ll get you some for next time, you’ll just have to use grown up toothpaste for tonight.” She had completely forgotten it when she had gone to Tescos that afternoon. It could go onto her shopping list for next week, S toothpaste, just in case John saw it. He was a lovely man, but they had to be so much more careful since he had moved into Baker Street.
Sherlock spat water and toothpaste into the sink.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it, dear? She placed her hand on his upper back, between his shoulder blades and rubbed gently. He arched back into the caress. Mrs Hudson smiled and turned off the cold water tap. “Wee and bed.”
He pouted. “I don’t want to go, mummy.”
“I’ve heard that one before, come on, Sherlock.”
She took him over to the toilet, where he stood with a sulky expression on his face. Mrs Hudson sat on the edge of the bath. Her hip was giving her trouble tonight, but John was at his girlfriend’s and neither of them wanted to miss this rare opportunity.
“Get on with it then,” she said after a few moments.
“I don’t want to do a wee.” The childish phase was belied by a slight catch in his breathing.
“If you don’t go now you’ll end up wetting the bed and I won’t be pleased with you.” She reached for the drawstring on his pyjama bottoms. “Let’s just get your willy out and see what happens, shall we?”
He giggled and wriggled. “Your hands are cold.”
“Stand still.” Mrs Hudson slapped him lightly on his left buttock and reached into his pyjamas. He gave a little gasp when she wrapped her hand around him. She recognised the sound and drew his penis out quickly. It quivered in her hand. “Just go, sweetheart.”
His pee burst forth instantly. “Oh, mummy.” Sherlock shivered and closed his eyes. The relief in his voice was unmistakable.
“Whatever am I going to do with you?” Mrs Hudson tried to sound stern. “One minute you’re telling me that you don’t need to go and the next you’re nearly wetting your pyjamas.”
“I’m sorry.” Sherlock managed to sound suitably contrite.
She gave his penis a little shake. “All done, dear?”
“Yes, mummy.” He gave her a bashful smile. “It feels better now.”
“That’s good, but you mustn’t try to hold it when you really need to wee.” She gave him a squeeze. He was almost fully erect. “Just tell mummy when you want to go.”
“Alright.” Sherlock pressed into her hand. “That’s nice, mummy. It’s making my willy all stiff.”
“That’s because you’re a naughty boy, good boys don’t get hard when their mummy touches them.” Mrs Hudson stroked his erection once more before she opened her hand. She leant across him to flush the toilet. “Tuck it away and we won’t say anymore about it.”
Sherlock eased himself back into his pyjamas. “Do I have to go to bed now?”
“Yes, you do, it’s way past your bedtime.”
“Can’t I watch TV until John comes home?”
The mention of John surprised Mrs Hudson and she found herself wondering what Sherlock would do if she said yes, would he back out or would he really wait up for John in his little boy pyjamas?
She must have hesitated too long because Sherlock yawned. “Did you put teddy on my pillow, mummy?”
That was her answer. It was a pity really, Sherlock was so very fond of John. Mrs Hudson patted his cheek. “Yes, I did, do you want to get into bed and have a nice cuddle with teddy?”
Sherlock nodded. “Yes, please.”
She tucked his hand into hers and led him into his bedroom. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow over the furry features and mellow glass eyes of the golden teddy bear propped up on Sherlock’s pillow. Mrs Hudson closed the door and pulled back the bedcovers.
“In you get then.”
Sherlock obediently climbed into bed, when he stretched out she saw that he was still at least half-erect under his pyjamas. He caught her hand in his as she pulled the blankets up around his shoulders.
“Sit next to me, mummy.”
“All right, just for a little while. “ Mrs Hudson sat on the edge of his bed. “Would you like a hug from your mummy?”
“Yes, please.” Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder. She kissed his brow and held him, rocking him gently. He sighed and snuggled closer. “I love you, mummy.”
That always tugged at her heartstrings, no matter how often she reminded herself that it was all part of the game. “I love you too, sweetheart,” she whispered.
Mrs Hudson held him for a few tranquil minutes before he stirred restlessly. He hand crept over her blouse and she placed hers over his. “No, darling.”
“Please, mummy.” He slipped his hand out from under hers and his deft fingers undid a few of the white pearl buttons on the front of her blouse. “Please.”
“Don’t be naughty.”
Sherlock touched her bra and pulled at the lacy fabric. Her nipple hardened before his wandering hand reached it.
“I said no.” She tugged at his wrist, but he was too strong for her.
“Please, mummy, just a little suck.”
Mrs Hudson relented, just as she always did. “All right, just a little one and then you have to go to sleep.”
“Ohhh...” He licked at the hard bud of her left nipple. “Mummy,” he murmured into the curve of her breast.
When he started to suck in earnest she cradled his head against her, running her fingers through his dark curls. “Not too much, “she whispered. Sherlock absolutely loved this and he would carry on until she was sore if she let him. At least the gentle lamplight hid some of the ravages of age, not that he ever seemed to mind that she was no longer a young woman. She worried about him though, worried that he would be left alone when she died or grew too old and infirm to continue with this. Who would love him then in the way that he needed to be loved? That young woman from Barts was obviously infatuated with him, but Mrs Hudson suspected that she would want romance, commitment and a normal sex life, all things that Sherlock either could not or would not give her.
She kissed his hair and his temple. “Whatever’s to become of you, my sweet boy?”
Sherlock’s arms tightened around her waist, but he gave no other indication that he had heard her. His tongue flickered back and forth across her nipple, then he sank against her and resumed his ardent suckling. She ran her hands down his back, tracing the ridge of his spine and the quivering tension in his muscles. He was as strong as steel and as fragile as glass.
Sherlock groaned and lifted his head. Dark, lust glazed eyes gazed into hers. “Oh, mummy, my willy’s so stiff it hurts.”
She kissed him on the cheek and tenderly on the lips. “I think that you need teddy now, dear.”
He looked past her, at the large stuffed bear on the pillow and gave a quick, jerky nod.
“Let’s get your pyjamas off then, so that you can get nice and comfy.” Mrs Hudson pushed the bedcovers down towards the foot of the bed. Sherlock lay back and lifted his hips so that she could slide his pyjama bottoms off. She took his erection in her hand. It throbbed hotly and jerked against her palm. “My poor darling, you really do need teddy, don’t you?”
He looked up at her from under his long lashes. “Yes, mummy, it hurts so much and it won’t go down until teddy makes it better.”
Mrs Hudson picked up the soft teddy bear. “Do you want to hold teddy tonight or would you like mummy to hold him for you?”
“I want you to do it.” Sherlock closed his eyes. “It feels so much nicer when you put teddy on my willy.”
“Does it, dear?” Mrs Hudson turned the bear so that the neat hole between its furry legs was positioned over his erection. It had taken a bit of work, but even the inside of the opening was lined with fleecy fur. She was a dab hand with a needle and thread.
“Oh, yes, it’s the best feeling in the whole, wide world.” Sherlock arched his pelvis. “Do it now, mummy.”
She lowered the bear onto him and held it steady to let him get accustomed to the sensation, not that she expected him to last long. He was far too excited for that.
“Ah....oh... mummy.” Sherlock thrust upwards. “Please, mummy, make teddy go up and down.”
“Hush, sweetheart, mummy will give you what you need.”
She would have done anything for him. He was the son she had never had, the lover she had never known, and if the world said that she was too old to feel so much love, so much desire, then her mind and body didn’t know it. This was a simple thing to give him, familiar enough to them both that the co-ordination of furry bear and desperately thrusting hips presented no difficulties.
“Faster, teddy, faster.” Sherlock’s head tossed from side to side on the pillow. “Oh, god...J...John!” He writhed on the bed. “Oh, mummy, teddy’s making me cum!”
It hit him hard, just as it always did, a firestorm of orgasm that left him trembling and exhausted.
Mrs Hudson smoothed the sweat soaked hair back off his forehead. She kissed him on the cheek. “Was that lovely for you, dear?”
“Oh, yes, mummy.”
The heartfelt pleasure in his voice made her smile. She tucked the bedclothes in around him. “You have a nice sleep now.”
There would be no restless insomniac wanderings tonight, this always got him off in every sense. It wasn’t the first time Sherlock had called out for John as he came either. She thought about that, about straight as a dye, conventional John, who was both strong and gentle, and who adored Sherlock whether he knew it or not. Perhaps it wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility.
“I’ll take teddy downstairs and put him in my washing machine so that John doesn’t see him.” Not yet anyway, this would need careful handling.
Sherlock nodded. He was already half-asleep. If he didn’t give her an honest answer now, then he never would.
She stroked his hair. “You love John, don’t you?”
There was a tiny silence before me breathed out the word. “Yes.”
“That’s good, I’m glad.” And she was, so glad that she was almost crying. Mrs Hudson pressed her lips to his forehead. “Good-night, my darling boy.”
Mrs Hudson left him to his dreams and went downstairs to her own room, where she lay awake after her own self-induced orgasm. She listened to the whirl of the washing machine and thought about playing matchmaker for her beloved boy.