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Chapter Text

“MRS. HUDSON INVESTIGATES”
By Phoebe Roberts and Bernie Gabin

MRS. HUDSON, Sherlock Holmes’s landlady – F, Scottish, 30’s-50’s
SHERLOCK HOLMES, the detective himself – M, Posh, 30’s-50’s
ABIGAIL NORRIS, the butter and eggs girl – F, Cockney, teens
MRS. DUNLOP, the Evanstons’ cook – F, Northern, 30’s-50’s
SUSAN KIRKWOOD, a lady’s maid – F, Northern, 20’s-30’s
ACHILLE GERARD, a famous pastry chef – M, French, 20’s-30’s
INSPECTOR LESTRADE, of Scotland Yard – M, Northern, 20’s-40’s
HOPE EVANSTON, daughter of the house – F, Posh, teens-20’s

SCENE 1: 221B Baker Street

SOUND EFFECT: Door opens, door closes

(Enter MRS. HUDSON.)

MRS. HUDSON:

Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes! It’s Mrs. Hudson, and I’ve got to send out the linens today come hell or high water, so I don’t give a fig about your experiments, those sheets are coming with me, so help me God— Mr. Holmes? Are you about, Mr. Holmes? Hm. It’s quiet— too quiet. Well. At least there are no new bullet holes in the wallpaper. Good gracious, if I blunder into some beaker fixing to explode— oh, here’s a letter. With my name? What’s this about?

SOUND EFFECT: Seal breaking

HOLMES (VO):

My very dear Mrs. Hudson—

MRS. HUDSON:

Ugh. Now what have you done?

HOLMES (VO):

I’m afraid that by the time this letter finds you, I shall have been taken away on a journey of some time.

MRS. HUDSON:

And now’s when you tell me?

HOLMES (VO):

Yes, my departure was rather abrupt, but I assure you the circumstances insisted. That I cannot specify my destination, nor tell how long I will be gone, I hope you will take as a sign of the seriousness of my undertaking, and not of the trust I place in you, madam, who has been my stalwart support for all upon which I rely.

MRS. HUDSON:

Oh, go on, why don’t you. Charmer.

HOLMES (VO):

Whether you shall find this an inconvenience or a relief of your burdens, I cannot say, but at least you shall not need not contend with all manner of comers at all hours of the night. For keeping the place in my absence, I do hope you find that sufficient consolation.

MRS. HUDSON:

That’s all very well! But what am I to do without a tenant? Swear to heaven, for a clever man that Mr. Holmes can be a right—

HOLMES (VO):

And if not, there’s another five hundred in it for your pains.

MRS. HUDSON:

—gentleman and no mistake!

HOLMES (VO):

Thank you, my dear Mrs. Hudson, for your gentle service, for your kind understanding and forbearance— and for leaving my dust system undisturbed.

MRS. HUDSON:

Ugh!

HOLMES (VO):

Yours in eternal goodwill, Sherlock Holmes.

MRS. HUDSON:

Well! Seems he’s taken the steamer trunk. And— all his great heavy coats! He’ll be off for a long cold while. Things shall certainly be lonely here for a stretch, though I can’t say I’m sorry to wait on any more chemical burns in my carpets. I wonder if I can air out the shag tobacco smell, or is it in the place for good?

SOUND EFFECT: Many frantic rings of the doorbell

MRS. HUDSON:

Crivvens! So much for no more mad visitors!

SOUND EFFECT: Footsteps
SOUND EFFECT: Door opening

(Enter ABIGAIL.)

MRS. HUDSON:

Why, little Abigail Norris! We’re not due for butter and eggs ‘til Tuesday next. What’s got into you?

ABIGAIL:

Not here on a delivery, Mrs. Hudson, ma’am. I’m here to see the gentleman. Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

MRS. HUDSON:

Indeed? Well, I’m afraid he’s not about.

ABIGAIL:

Oh. Then, do you know when he’ll be back, please?

MRS. HUDSON:

Not for some time, I daresay. What would you be wanting with Mr. Holmes?

ABIGAIL:

It’s my friend, ma’am, Susan Kirkwood. She’s a lady’s maid for the daughter of the Evanston house in Sloane Square, and she needs help. They say she stole, ma’am— stole from her mistress! But I know Susan, she never!

MRS. HUDSON:

My word, the poor girl!

ABIGAIL:

I thought Mr. Holmes— the way he figures things— he could help her. He could prove to them it wasn’t her. I brought all the money I’d saved— do you think he’d do it for eleven and six?

MRS. HUDSON:

Oh, keep your pennies, sweet girl! I’m sorry, but Mr. Holmes won’t be back in time to take your case.

ABIGAIL:

Oh. I see. It’s only… Susan’s in real trouble, she is. If the family and the coppers can’t be made to see, this will ruin her forever. I thought if I could bring Mr. Holmes… (Cries)

MRS. HUDSON:

Please, my girl, no tears! It can’t be bad as all that!

ABIGAIL:

But whatever will become of Susan?

(Pause.)

ABIGAIL:

I don’t suppose… you could do something to help her?

MRS. HUDSON:

Begging your pardon, dear?

ABIGAIL:

You’ve known Mr. Holmes all these years! You know how he works, don’t you? Couldn’t you… do that trick he does, dig out what really happened, to show them she’s a good girl who wouldn’t steal?

MRS. HUDSON:

Abigail, looking after a detective so that he doesn’t burn the rooms down sure is not the same as being one.

ABIGAIL:

Oh. I suppose so, ma’am. But I don’t know what to do. She’s got nobody else.

MRS. HUDSON:

Abby, dear… I’m no detective, I don’t know what I can do for her… but I suppose I can do no worse than try.

ABIGAIL:

Oh, will you really, ma’am?

MRS. HUDSON:

My goodness… solve a crime like Mr. Holmes does? I don’t even play the violin! But… we women making our own way in the world must look out for one another. We’ll do our best together.

Chapter Text

Scene 2

SOUND EFFECT: Footsteps on pavement
SOUND EFFECT: Bustle of the city

MRS. HUDSON:

Tell me about this stew our Susan’s found herself in. What’s gone missing that they think she stole?

ABIGAIL:

A great jewel, ma’am. From a necklace her mistress wore to a ball the family put on last night. An India ruby the size of a plover’s egg called the Heart of Bombay.

MRS. HUDSON:

Oh, Lord keep us.

ABIGAIL:

The house put in for extra butter for the banquet, so I’ve been by three times this week. Near as I can tell from the servants’ chatter, Miss Hope Evanston borrowed the necklace from her grandmother, the Duchess of Chiswick. The ruby went missing last night, the very night of the party, and with no one else to lay blame upon, they all turned to poor Susan and slung it on her.

MRS. HUDSON:

Well shan, that’s service for you! Devote yourself to a house, give them nary a moment’s trouble, and then see yourself tossed to the wolves at the first rumblings of doubt. I’d rather keep tenants in my own house and my own ways in it, thank you very much.

ABIGAIL:

Good work, if you can get it.

(Pause.)

ABIGAIL:

How did you come into it? The flat, I mean.

MRS. HUDSON:

My late husband meant it for our retirement. He was a mason for nigh on twenty years when we lived in Glasgow, and he thought keeping city rooms for gentlefolk would be easier on his bones.

ABIGAIL:

You must have been putting by a long time, for a flat in Westminster.

MRS. HUDSON:

Took us all his life. Then he passed, only just two years after we bought it.

ABIGAIL:

I’m sorry.

MRS. HUDSON:

Life has twists and turns for us all. He left me taken care of, at least.

ABIGAIL:

Sounds as if you both took care. And now you’ve got the means to take care of yourself.

MRS. HUDSON:

Hm. I suppose.

ABIGAIL:

Must be nice. Not to be beholden to anyone.

MRS. HUDSON:

Just Mr. Holmes and all the strife that comes with him. But heaven help me, I’m fond of him, for all of it.

(Pause.)

ABIGAIL:

My mum wants me to go into service, you know.

MRS. HUDSON:

I suppose it’s steady respectable work. And there’s always a place to sleep.

ABIGAIL:

But most folk who get into it never come out of it. I don’t know if I want that for the rest of my life. But perhaps that’s silly of me. It isn’t as if I’m fit for much else.

MRS. HUDSON:

Here, now! How can you say that?

ABIGAIL:

I couldn’t even do anything for Susan! Except run and beg for someone else’s help. And I couldn’t even find him.

MRS. HUDSON:

But you did find help, Abby. And we’re on our way now.

ABIGAIL:

But it’s like you said, Mrs. Hudson. We’re no detectives.

MRS. HUDSON:

No more we are. Heaven knows I’ve no taste for the cocaine! But perhaps that’s not the only way to do our girl a bit of good.

ABIGAIL:

What can we do, Mrs. Hudson?

MRS. HUDSON:

Well. We’ve come, haven’t we?

ABIGAIL:

Why, yes, we have— and here’s now the place now.

MRS. HUDSON:

My goodness. Sloane Square— a very fine address.

ABIGAIL:

It’s a very fine house.

MRS. HUDSON:

Hmm. At one time, maybe— but I wouldn’t say it’s been kept up. Haven’t wanted to pay for paint nor shingle in some years, I’d say.

SOUND EFFECT: Policemen speaking to each other

MRS. HUDSON:

My word! There are still bobbies all about! Who’s been robbed here, Her Majesty the Queen?

(Enter HOPE.)

HOPE:

Good gracious, haven’t you found anything yet? Oh, I don’t know at all what I shall tell my grandmother! We’ve not had a moment’s peace over it!

ABIGAIL:

That must be Miss Hope, the lady Susan works for. Oh, this can’t be good for her! Here, now, follow me about to the servant’s entrance.

(Exit HOPE.)

SOUND EFFECT: Footsteps on gravel
SOUND EFFECT: Back bell rings
SOUND EFFECT: Door opens

(Enter MRS. DUNLOP.)

MRS. DUNLOP:

Why, Abigail, you’re back! Come in, girl, before all that lot comes after you. And, bless you, you’ve brought Sherlock Holmes—

(Pause.)

MRS. DUNLOP:

Beg pardon but you’re not as the papers describe you.

ABIGAIL:

Mrs. Dunlop, this is Mrs. Hudson. She’s Mr. Holmes’s landlady.

MRS. DUNLOP:

And… is this what happens when a detective falls behind on his rent?

MRS. HUDSON:

Course not. But Mr. Holmes is taken away on business, and I hated to send the girl off with no one. I’d like to help your Miss Kirkwood if I can.

MRS. DUNLOP:

She does need whatever help there is. I’m cook here, have been eight years now, and I know the girl well enough to swear by her.

MRS. HUDSON:

Can I talk with her? Ask about what happened the night of the ball?

MRS. DUNLOP:

Those brutes in uniform have her in her room under house arrest. No one’s had words nor laid eyes on her since.

ABIGAIL:

What shall we do? Mrs. Hudson?

(Pause.)

MRS. HUDSON:

She’s not eaten since yesterday, has she?

Chapter Text

Scene 3

(Enter SUSAN.)

SOUND EFFECT: Footsteps pacing on floorboards
SOUND EFFECT: Door rattling

SUSAN:

(Gasps)

SOUND EFFECT: Door opens

(Enter MRS. HUDSON and ABIGAIL.)

ABIGAIL:

Susan? Susan, are you all right?

SUSAN:

Abby? Is that you?

ABIGAIL:

Brought you a change of kit and a bite of hot supper from Mrs. Dunlop.

SUSAN:

But how did you—?

MRS. HUDSON:

Told the wardens that even prisoners have a right to a meal and clean linens when they’ve been locked away for a day. So chin up, my girl, we’re here to help you.

SUSAN:

Oh, God. Thank you! But— who are you— why are you—?

MRS. HUDSON:

Mrs. Hudson, dear. Landlady to Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

SUSAN:

Did you say “landlady”—?

MRS. HUDSON:

Yes, yes, dear, it’s all very irregular. But from what I hear, you’re in no position to look any gift horse in the mouth. Now don’t stand on ceremony— get some fair scran in you, and tell us why your mistress thinks you’ve chored her nan’s jewelry.

SOUND EFFECT: Cutlery on dinner plate

ABIGAIL:

Go on, now, Susan. You can trust her.

SUSAN:

It was a grand affair, ma’am. Like nothing the family’s done in ages— they opened the big ballroom for the first time since I’ve been here, and they hired in some great French pastry chef to do the desserts. A Monsieur Achille Gerard. Miss Hope wore her best gray velvet with the ruby, and she’d begged her ladyship the Duchess for weeks to let her have it. It’s quite famous, is what I hear.

MRS. HUDSON:

When did the thing go missing? When she was dressing for the ball?

SUSAN:

No, it was in the parlor after the night. When the guests had gone, the family went in to take their tea and brandy.

ABIGAIL:

Before she’d even gone back upstairs? Then why in the world did they think it was you?

SUSAN:

They rang me in to bring more hot water. But there was still warm tea in the pot, though, so I just poured cups instead. Judge Evanston— he’s master of the house —turned and said, “Bring it here,” so I went to carry one over to him. But he must have been calling for Hope instead of me, because she moved when I did to show him the necklace. We knocked into one another.

MRS. HUDSON:

You didn’t spill the tea, did you?

SUSAN:

All over the Persian rug.

MRS. HUDSON:

Oh, faith. There’s a night’s work.

SUSAN:

I said my apologies and went out for the rags and bucket. But when I came back, there was a commotion up. They looked at the necklace proper-like and saw the gem was gone from its setting, when we’d all seen it plain as day on her neck just a moment ago.

ABIGAIL:

And they blamed you for that?

SUSAN:

They roared at each other for a while, and didn’t settle until they all fell on me for knocking into her. They had policemen in so quick it sent my head spinning, and before I knew it, I was locked up here.

MRS. HUDSON:

Why had Miss Hope taken off her necklace in the parlor?

SUSAN:

I don’t know, ma’am. She might have been bringing it to the judge to put back into the safe.

MRS. HUDSON:

And the police searched the place high and low for the stone, surely?

SUSAN:

They tore it through, but nothing turned up.

ABIGAIL:

Not even anywhere on you, of course. Not that it changed their minds.

SUSAN:

They think I must have hidden it somewhere when I left the room, or else handed it off to some accomplice. And I’ve no means to prove any different! Mrs. Hudson, do you really think there’s any way to show them I’m innocent?

MRS. HUDSON:

Good gracious, dear. The most detectiving I’ve done to today was finding whatever wretched neighbor boy stole the steak and kidney pie from off my windowsill. But I haven’t borne near ten years of Sherlock Holmes bending my floorboards and setting fire to my drapes to learn myself nothing. And… too many folks are keen to forget a girl except to send out the wash or have the trays cleared.

ABIGAIL:

That’s the truth, ma’am.

MRS. HUDSON:

We working women must remember each other, if no one else will.

SUSAN:

Thank you, ma’am. And Abby, for remembering me.

MRS. HUDSON:

Now dry your eyes, love. And let’s see you tuck into that tidy supper.

(Exeunt.)

TRANSITION MUSIC.

Chapter Text

Scene 4

(Enter MRS. DUNLOP and CHEF GERARD.)

SOUND EFFECTS: Footsteps down stairs
SOUND EFFECTS: Pots and pans clanging

CHEF GERARD:

I will not ask you again, madame!

MRS. DUNLOP:

I’ll thank you to remember this is my kitchen, sir!

(Enter MRS. HUDSON and ABIGAIL.)

MRS. HUDSON:

Here now, what’s this?

CHEF GERARD:

It is the house’s kitchen, and the house engaged me to be in it.

MRS. DUNLOP:

Last night, they did, not whenever you bloody well please.

CHEF GERARD:

You will not keep me from my things!

ABIGAIL:

Cor, this is the very fellow, isn’t he? The pastry chef, Achille Gerard?

CHEF GERARD:

My reputation often precedes me. But I am quite busy now, so I pray you all, leave me to my affairs.

MRS. HUDSON:

What’s he still doing here, Mrs. Dunlop?

MRS. DUNLOP:

Come back for his precious molds and pans, it seems! Funny, they weren’t so blasted important when he had an adoring public to greet at the party!

CHEF GERARD:

Nevertheless, they are mine! Now fetch them for me at once!

MRS. DUNLOP:

There! There’s your kit, we put it all aside for you.

SOUND EFFECTS: Pots and pans clattering

CHEF GERARD:

And my colors! Where is my box of colors?

MRS. DUNLOP:

It’s all there, for heaven’s sake!

CHEF GERARD:

It best had be. You are fortunate I do not tell Miss Hope of your rudeness.

MRS. DUNLOP:

Why would Miss Hope give a toss about you?

CHEF GERARD:

Take care of how you speak to me, madame.

MRS. DUNLOP:

And who are you? Some cook hired on, same as I was.

CHEF GERARD:

Not at all the same, for there is a great deal more to my work than boiling turnips. Try me again, and you shall indeed see what the family cares for the hired help. Now, I bid you good day.

SOUND EFFECTS: Footsteps striding up stairs

(Exit CHEF GERARD.)

MRS. DUNLOP:

A lot of fuss for a box of two-a-penny aniline food colors. Couldn’t the great chef have sent one of his dogsbodies after it all, so I could be rid of him? (Sighing) No matter— did the two of you manage to see our Susan? Is she all right? Did she get her supper?

MRS. HUDSON:

Yes, and with a right good stomach, too.

MRS. DUNLOP:

Ah, bless the poor thing.

ABIGAIL:

So that was the famous Achille Gerard, then?

MRS. DUNLOP:

That’s his nibs. He’s so grand about the place because he’s been around before, as a guest of the family.

MRS. HUDSON:

A guest, you say?

MRS. DUNLOP:

That’s right. Supposedly he’s quite the artist to the posh set. He certainly seems to think so, swanning about with his nose in the air, offering his elbow to Miss Hope as if he and I weren’t in the same business. Only he gets to call himself a chef.

MRS. HUDSON:

That’s the way of it, somehow. We women do it, it’s a job. When men do, it’s a bloody heroic deed.

MRS. DUNLOP:

That’s the truth of it, ma’am. I’d like to see him fix three squares a day for upstairs and down, day in and day out. Boiling turnips, indeed! But he’s not so high and mighty he’ll turn down their money.

MRS. HUDSON:

What can you tell us about that day, Mrs. Dunlop? The day of the party, when the gem went missing.

MRS. DUNLOP:

I was down here since sunup. I don’t know what I might know that’s any good to you.

MRS. HUDSON:

Come now, ma’am, all us in the house see things that our betters think we don’t. How was things that evening? Did you notice anyone out of the ordinary about?

MRS. DUNLOP:

Everyone out of the ordinary! Gerard and all his little soldiers in their white coats invaded my kitchen, in a right Norman Conquest! Pushed me and all my girls right out of their way, and carted in their fixings by the wagonload.

ABIGAIL:

All that just for a lot of little nibbly things?

MRS. DUNLOP:

Well… I will say the man’s got a way with sugarwork. Some of those creations, I never saw anything so delicate. Why, look here— there’s a fair bit of his craft left over from the party.

MRS. HUDSON:

I say— is that a model Westminster Abbey?

MRS. DUNLOP:

From the yard to the spires.

ABIGAIL:

It’s even got stained glass windows! Look at the colors— blue and red and yellow.

MRS. DUNLOP:

Told you he knew his sugar.

MRS. HUDSON:

So there was a right army of fellows you didn’t know in here that evening.

ABIGAIL:

Then the thief could have been any one of them! And we’d never know he’d come and gone!

MRS. DUNLOP:

I suppose it could be, dearie— but the family swore up and down nobody came or left but Miss Susan.

ABIGAIL:

But… what does that mean? That… nobody else could have took the ruby out of there? How could that be possible?

MRS. HUDSON:

What’s that Mr. Holmes is always on about? “Once a thing’s bloody impossible, whatever else’s left, no matter how barking, must be the thing?” Or some such?

MRS. DUNLOP:

Begging your pardon?

ABIGAIL:

What’s the thing, Mrs. Hudson?

MRS. HUDSON:

If that ruddy great gem went into that room, and nobody else took it out again… the gem must still be in that room.

ABIGAIL:

But they tore the place apart looking! How could it still be there?

MRS. HUDSON:

Couldn’t say, my girl. But there’s only one way to tell. Now, we’ve got a locked room to get into. I may not be housekeeper here, but I’m certain I’ve got a skeleton key.

(Exit MRS. DUNLOP.)

TRANSITION MUSIC. 

Chapter Text

SOUND EFFECT: Cops murmuring

ABIGAIL:

So many policemen. Whatever are they all still doing here?

MRS. HUDSON:

Trying to look as if they’ve got any notion of what’s going on, if Mr. Holmes is to be believed. I suppose a judge’s position gets the fellows stepping lively. Now, hurry up, dear, and tie on the apron Mrs. Dunlop gave you. We must look as if we work here in the house.

ABIGAIL:

But why? They’re not letting anybody in.

MRS. HUDSON:

That’s what the scrub bucket’s for, dear. Now, chum me close, girl, and do as I do.

SOUND EFFECT: Footsteps on floorboards

MRS. HUDSON:

Excuse us, gentlemen, but you’ll be stepping aside now, thank you very much. We were sent to turn over the parlor.

(Enter INSPECTOR LESTRADE.)

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

Ma’am, this is the scene of a crime, there’s to be no one setting foot in this room until— by thunder! Is that you, Mrs. Hudson?

MRS. HUDSON:

Why, Inspector Lestrade! You’re on this one?

ABIGAIL:

You know him, ma’am?

MRS. HUDSON:

He’s been known to trouble Mr. Holmes time and again.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

Mrs. Hudson, as I live and breathe! Don’t tell me he’s got you poking into things for him now!

MRS. HUDSON:

No, Inspector. You’re in luck, as Mr. Holmes is taken abroad for the moment. But I am looking into this matter.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

You and Watson both now? Is it a ruddy disease you caught off of him?

MRS. HUDSON:

I’m here on behalf of the girl— Miss Susan Kirkwood the lady’s maid, who your men have got locked up in her room on charges you can’t even prove.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

We are in the middle of an investigation, Mrs. Hudson; all possibilities must be explored. But between you and me, it’s only a matter time now before we track down what the girl did.

MRS. HUDSON:

What a lot of bollocks!

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

I’ll have you we’ve gone through the room with a fine toothed comb, and haven’t seen so much as a glimmer of that damnable ruby. Someone had to have spirited away the bloody thing, because it surely isn’t in there! And that girl’s the only soul who’s entered or left.

ABIGAIL:

Then what’s the harm of us taking a look?

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

See here, missie, what do the two of you expect to find that a team of trained officers couldn’t?

MRS. HUDSON:

If we knew, we wouldn’t care to look, now, would we? You said it yourself— you’ve combed over every bit of that parlor. If the girl or anyone else has made off with the stone, then there’s nothing to left to find, and so there’s nothing left to disturb.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

And what would you have me tell my sergeant?

MRS. HUDSON:

Tell him that the judge wanted to rescue his rug.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

Now who’s talking bollocks?

MRS. HUDSON:

For shame, Inspector! How much longer are you going to let those stains set?

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

It is not the purview of Scotland Yard to concern over stains—

MRS. HUDSON:

Oh? And is that what you’ll be telling Judge Evanston? Do you want to explain to the master of the house that his Persian rug is for lost? Or… I can always tell Mr. Holmes who knocked over his titration system while waiting in his parlor.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

You wouldn’t!

MRS. HUDSON:

I would. And next time I won’t go to the trouble of making cheap grog look like spirits of ether just to save your hide.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

(Growls) Do you swear you won’t make a mess of things in there?

ABIGAIL:

Quite the contrary, sir. We’ve come to clear it away.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

Oh, blast it. (Raising his voice) Clear off for a tick, boys. We’ve got to let the maids in before the judge’s parlor’s ruined. (Muttering) You’re as bad as Holmes, you are.

MRS. HUDSON:

Thank you kindly, Inspector. Now, step aside. We’ve got a stain to take on.

TRANSITION MUSIC.

(Exit INSPECTOR LESTRADE.)

Chapter Text

Scene 6

SOUND EFFECT: Door creaking open and shut
SOUND EFFECT: Footsteps on carpet

MRS. HUDSON:

Well, they left this room in a right state!

ABIGAIL:

Such a mess! Shall we put it to rights?

MRS. HUDSON:

Suppose we must now, since that’s what we said we were on about.

ABIGAIL:

Certainly is a fancy place.

MRS. HUDSON:

Could use some new curtains, to my eye. I think the moths have been a bit too much at these. Now, where’s that tea stain? Seems as good a place as any to start.

ABIGAIL:

Here it is! By the great leather chair.

MRS. HUDSON:

Look at that— just left the cup and saucer where they lay. But that’s quite dark for fresh-brewed tea. Hadn’t Susan only just brought the water?

ABIGAIL:

Yes, but remember what she told us? She found the teapot still full, so she poured cups from that.

MRS. HUDSON:

Oh, aye? Then why ever did they send her for hot water? It would have gone cold by the time they finished the pot.

ABIGAIL:

That must be the water, in the copper kettle on the sideboard.

SOUND EFFECT: Lid lifting off kettle

ABIGAIL:

Why, Mrs. Hudson, there’s tea in here.

MRS. HUDSON:

In the kettle? What gentlefolk put tea leaves straight into the kettle?

ABIGAIL:

I don’t see any leaves, ma’am. But come look for yourself, it’s dark.

MRS. HUDSON:

Why, by St. Andrew.

ABIGAIL:

Susan never mentioned this, did she?

MRS. HUDSON:

Indeed she didn’t. And it’s clear as crystal, not a fanning in sight. Hmm… (Sniffs) That’s no tea that I ever smelled. Abby, dear, fetch me that empty cup.

SOUND EFFECT: Clinking of china

ABIGAIL:

Yes, ma’am.

SOUND EFFECT: Pouring liquid

MRS. HUDSON:

Why, would you look at that!

ABIGAIL:

What is that, Mrs. Hudson?

MRS. HUDSON:

I couldn’t say, Abby. But did you ever see tea quite that brilliant red?

ABIGAIL:

No, ma’am. What does it mean?

MRS. HUDSON:

I’d say we’ve got some mulling to do, my girl. Mr. Holmes has his calabash and his shag tobacco for his thoughtful moments. As for us—

SOUND EFFECT: Sloshing of scrub bucket

MRS. HUDSON:

—We’ve got a Persian rug to scrub.

TRANSITION MUSIC.

(Exeunt.)

Chapter Text

Scene 7

(Enter HOPE.)

SOUND EFFECT: Clinking of cosmetics on dressing table

HOPE:

Agnes? Agnes, is that you? Fetch my dressing gown, please, I’ll be retiring for the night.

(Enter MRS. HUDSON.)

MRS. HUDSON:

Beg pardon, Miss Hope, but it’s not Miss Agnes.

HOPE:

What? Who are you? However did you get in here?

MRS. HUDSON:

Martha Hudson is my name. As for how I got in, well, that was easy. I walked up here. Right up the main staircase, in front of everyone. It’s a funny thing, you see— put on an apron and carry a broom, and not a body pays you a second glance. Indeed, most of them look right through you.

HOPE:

Well, whoever you are, you’ll turn about and leave just the way you came. Or I’ll scream for the policemen downstairs. You’re not permitted to be in here.

MRS. HUDSON:

Certainly you could do that, Miss Hope. But if you do, I’ll tell them what you did with the duchess’s jewel.

HOPE:

I beg your pardon?

MRS. HUDSON:

And I’ll beg you not to play the fool. It’s unbecoming of a lady.

HOPE:

How dare you barge in here and make such an accusation?

MRS. HUDSON:

Spare me the huff, if you please. I thought it was odd that your name kept coming up. Miss Hope borrowed her grandmother’s jewel. Miss Hope brought Mr. Gerard in to do the desserts. Miss Hope called for a fresh kettle when there was still tea in the teapot. That’s an awful lot of insistence from Miss Hope, now, for her to have had no hand in things.

HOPE:

But every eye was on me in the parlor that evening! The police searched this house from top to bottom! How could I have smuggled the gem out of there if I’d had it?

MRS. HUDSON:

Simple, miss. Because you never had it on you to begin with.

HOPE:

What? Are you mad?

MRS. HUDSON:

You lobbied right hard for Mr. Gerard to cook for the party. Had him take over the whole kitchen to do it, tossing out the regular staff in the process.

HOPE:

He’s famous for his sugar work!

MRS. HUDSON:

Indeed; from what I saw, he’s a master. Why, I’m sure he could whip up any little gossamer creation you could dream up. Even, I might guess, a decent mockup of a famous pigeon’s blood ruby. Small wonder Mr. Gerard didn’t want to leave his kit and his colors lying about the kitchen. Might have set folks to wondering. What did you do, work the real Heart of Bombay out of its setting and pop in the sugar craft piece in its place?

HOPE:

You can’t prove that!

MRS. HUDSON:

Thought you’d gotten rid of the evidence, did you? I’d wondered why you sent Miss Kirkwood out for hot water when you hadn’t gone through your first pot of tea. But it was so you had a way to dispose of the false ruby when you needed it to go stolen. Slip it into the hot kettle in the chaos and make it disappear without a trace. Well— not quite without a trace. Sure enough, it left the water bright red, and sweet as candy to the taste.

(Pause.)

HOPE:

However did you manage to find all that out?

MRS. HUDSON:

Like I said. You lot barely notice when the help’s about. We notice a long sight more than you think.

(Pause.)

MRS. HUDSON:

Why’d you do it, Miss Hope? To nick some jewelry off your grandmother, what does a lucky girl like you need so badly?

HOPE:

Not quite so lucky as you think!

MRS. HUDSON:

Quite so from where I stand.

HOPE:

Oh, yes? You have no idea!

MRS. HUDSON:

Then tell me, miss. Let’s start with how you got Mr. Gerard to make the fake for you— and keep his mouth shut to boot? Did you pay him? Or is he sweet on you?

HOPE:

I’ll have you know we mean to be married.

MRS. HUDSON:

You and the pastry chef?

HOPE:

Don’t you scoff at me like that! You sound just like the rest of my family!

MRS. HUDSON:

I suppose they weren’t about to pay for a girl to wed a jumped-up house chef.

HOPE:

As if they had anything left to pay!

MRS. HUDSON:

Fallen on hard times, have you? I thought the place was looking a bit worn.

HOPE:

It’s practically crumbling down around our ears. My father would see me married off to some rich old tradesmen if that meant a dowry to restore the family coffers. And yet they sneered at Achille as if he were no one!

MRS. HUDSON:

Is that why you did it? To pawn the jewel and run away with the money?

HOPE:

You don’t understand. They wouldn’t have given us a penny. Achille is only just coming up in the world; he hasn’t made his fortune yet. What else were we to do?

MRS. HUDSON:

I don’t give two hoots if you and that pastry chef want to nick the ruby and run away to Sheba. Only you’ll not be leaving the blame on Susan Kirkwood, that’s certain.

HOPE:

If the stone never turns up, they’ll have to let her go!

MRS. HUDSON:

Neither you nor I can be certain of that.

HOPE:

So what do you mean to do? Turn me in?

MRS. HUDSON:

It’s no more than you deserve, for tossing that poor girl to the wolves.

HOPE:

I never meant for it all to fall on Miss Kirkwood!

MRS. HUDSON:

Oh, aye? Then why’d you go to the trouble to see that you plowed right into her when she was carrying tea in the parlor?

(Pause.)

MRS. HUDSON:

But I’ll speak only if I have to, miss. Either you fix things for her, or I’ll be fixing you.

HOPE:

How do you expect me to do that? I’d have to give over the ruby!

MRS. HUDSON:

If that’s what it calls for.

HOPE:

Then the whole business was for nothing!

MRS. HUDSON:

By now, you’ll be lucky if it all comes to nothing. Now see that you do the right thing.

HOPE:

Without that money, what are we to do!?

MRS. HUDSON:

I don’t know, miss. Perhaps you should learn how to keep house like the rest of us.

TRANSITION MUSIC.

Chapter Text

Scene 8

(Enter ABIGAIL and INSPECTOR LESTRADE.)

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

I don’t believe it.

MRS. HUDSON:

Then call in a pawn broker to look at it through his loupe. Here it is, plain as day.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

And you say you found it in the coal scuttle?

MRS. HUDSON:

Tell the inspector, Miss Evanston.

HOPE:

That’s right, sir. The one by the fireplace in the parlor. It must have… slipped its setting when I took the necklace off.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

You mean to tell me it never left the room after all?

HOPE:

Such a silly mistake, us thinking it was stolen! But of course Miss Kirkwood had nothing to do with it. And I am so relieved to have it safely returned.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

I’m sure. You must be very grateful to Mrs. Hudson.

HOPE:

Oh, indeed, Inspector. Good help can be so hard to find.

MRS. HUDSON:

Good folk to work for too.

(Exit HOPE.)

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

My men turned this house inside out looking for that thing!

ABIGAIL:

It was blacked up by the soot, sir. You must have overlooked it.

MRS. HUDSON:

I’m no detective, but I know coal dust is a right devil that way. Try scrubbing it off a parlor ceiling sometime.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

If I didn’t know better, Mrs. Hudson, I think you were telling me a tale.

MRS. HUDSON:

My word, sir! Why on earth would I do a thing like that? I only meant to show you Miss Kirkwood had nothing to do with it. She could never have hidden it in that coal scuttle if she’d been sent out of the room.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

Hmm, just so. But I think that Holmes is rubbing off on you anyway.

MRS. HUDSON:

I’m no detective yet, Inspector.

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

That’s not the way I mean. Anyhow, I suppose that concludes this business here. And… you still won’t tell Mr. Holmes about his broken titers?

MRS. HUDSON:

What broken titers, sir?

INSPECTOR LESTRADE:

Right, then. Give him my regards, when at last he turns back up.

(Exit INSPECTOR LESTRADE.)

ABIGAIL:

I still think it’s right rotten that Miss Hope won’t get what she deserves.

MRS. HUDSON:

Sure and no mistake. But take heart, my dear. She’ll have troubles of her own to manage, if her family has their way.

ABIGAIL:

Still, the world’s not fair, Mrs. Hudson. Not for girls like us.

MRS. HUDSON:

Not since the beginning of it. But at least our Susan won’t fall into the trap this time.

(Enter SUSAN.)

MRS. HUDSON:

There she is now! Susan? Have you got all you need, my girl?

SUSAN:

I think so, Mrs. Hudson. My things are packed. Though I don’t know what I’ll do now. I haven’t got another place.

ABIGAIL:

Even so, Susan. Anywhere’s better than here, working for that Miss Hope.

MRS. HUDSON:

Don’t you worry, dear. We’ll find you a place in a better house. I’ve seen to it that Miss Hope will write you a most excellent character.

SUSAN:

I don’t know how you managed it, Mrs. Hudson. Clearing my name, and seeing that the house helped me on my way. How ever did you learn detective work? From Mr. Sherlock Holmes?

MRS. HUDSON:

Not a whit. Like I’ve been saying all along— I’m no detective, miss, just a housekeeper. But I know my stuff. Other folk may look down their noses, but I know what it’s worth.

SUSAN:

I don’t know how to thank you, Mrs. Hudson. And you, Abigail, for sticking up for me. I can’t bear to think that would have happened without you.

ABIGAIL:

As Mrs. Hudson said— we working women must look out for one another.

MRS. HUDSON:

Only remember that, the next time you run across some scullery maid or shopgirl in a spot of trouble.

SUSAN:

I will. You can be certain of that.

(Exit SUSAN.)

ABIGAIL:

I won’t forget it neither.

MRS. HUDSON:

Sounds as if you already knew.

ABIGAIL:

Only now I won’t think twice before I show up.

MRS. HUDSON:

That’s right. Now come along, Abby, my dear. Let’s find us a nice cup of tea, and then back to it.

ABIGAIL:

Back to it? But we’ve only just finished here.

MRS. HUDSON:

I know, I know. But you know how it is. A woman’s work is never done.

OUTRO MUSIC.

CURTAIN

Chapter Text

MRS. HUDSON, Sherlock Holmes’s landlady – Catherine Bromberg
SHERLOCK HOLMES, the detective himself – Andrew Harrington
ABIGAIL NORRIS, the butter and eggs girl – Jamie Lin
MRS. DUNLOP, the Evanstons’ cook – Cari Keebaugh
SUSAN KIRKWOOD, a lady’s maid – Laura Corliss
ACHILLE GERARD, a famous pastry chef – Ted Kearns
INSPECTOR LESTRADE, of Scotland Yard – Justus Perry
HOPE EVANSTON, daughter of the house – Naomi Ibatsitas

Foley team - Grace Gist, Simone Agha

Producer/House Manager - Chris DeKalb
Stage Manager - Meg Wickham
Foley Coordinator - Tori Queeno
Graphics - Jeremy Holstein
Sound Designer - Paul Springer
Sound Engineer- Chris Cebelenski
Sound Board Op - Joev Dubach

Directed by Phoebe Roberts
Produced by The Post-Meridian Radio Players

Click here for the direct file link.

Chapter Text

So many of our most beloved stories are about exceptional people, and Sherlock Holmes is certainly one of them— the brilliant and talented hero who uses their God-given abilities to bring light to where once there was dark. My own Victorian super-detective Mrs. Hawking (www.mrshawking.com) owes a lot to this kind of character, and through her I’ve gotten a fair bit of experience writing heroic Victorian mystery-solving women. So when the Post-Meridian Radio Players were looking for someone to devise an adventure centered on Mrs. Hudson, I suppose I seemed a natural fit.

But in coming up with a case to be solved by Sherlock Holmes’s long-suffering landlady, I wanted to explore something different. Though the series gives few details about the character, still it didn’t feel right to me to depict her as yet another brilliant deductive mind, quietly absorbing all Sherlock Holmes’s techniques in the course of keeping house for him. But do only geniuses get to have interesting adventures? Are they the only ones worth telling stories about?

So, in this story our heroes are very ordinary people, graced with no particular innate powers that would make them great detectives. Instead, I wanted to follow some decent folk who are good at their own little corner of the world, whose virtues lie in the choices they make and the effort they put in. Most of us aren’t geniuses, after all— and yet any one of us can decide to show up for a friend, stand up for someone unjustly accused, or pay attention to things that most people allow to pass unnoticed.

Additionally, I wanted this very much to be a women’s story, centered on recognizing traditional women’s work. Historically women have always been expected to take on disproportionate responsibility for caretaking and domesticity, tasks that have also traditionally been devalued— perhaps because they are so often the province of women. But here, the only hope of solution lies in the little details of the domestic world that women never get enough credit for managing, that so often go ignored.

In my usual work with Mrs. Hawking, the patriarchy is challenged by stealth infiltrations and knife fights. But here, it’s by scrubbing the floors and dusting the curtains and knowing how to brew a proper cup of tea. I’m happy to have the chance to pay tribute to both.