AN: Just a little drabble I wrote because my friend said she shipped Mrs Hudson and the skull because Mrs Hudson is lonely and needs someone to talk to.

"Oh those boys, look at the mess they've made!" Mrs Hudson cried angrily, looking around the room with an exasperated expression.

"I've told them before, I'm not their housekeeper and they're still out gallivanting leaving me to deal with all this. It's not fair is it?" With this she sets about straightening the place up, plumping cushions and arranging Sherlock's many files into nice orderly piles.

"Pants! On the floor! Oh he's got no dignity that boy; I've told him time and time again you can't leave your dirty pants all over the floor where anyone could see them. It's just not decent." She gingerly picks the boxers up, holding them away from herself and dumping them in the overflowing wash basket.

"If I wasn't here nothing would ever get done, anyone would think they weren't house trained."

Once the place is straightened up a little Mrs Hudson grabs a duster; standing on armchairs and tables to reach all the crevices of the apartment. She then starts on the hoovering and continues to talk over the top of that; not that anyone would be able to hear her over the deafening noise.

"They're good boys really, always lovely to me. John makes me tea whenever he's got a spare minute when Sherlock's not dragging him into a case. I do wish they'd understand that you have to keep a place tidy, just a bit of dusting once in a while." She finishes the hoovering and takes a look around.

"There, that looks much better. What do you think?" She says, turning to face the Skull that is keeping her company. It merely stares back with a blank expression.