Mrs. Hudson hurries up the stairs, still nervously excited. She'd been on the stair when the shot had been fired, and she'd been keeping herself downstairs, as Holmes instructed, but now that they're home -- well, she can hardly keep herself from rushing up to see what's happened. She only just thinks to knock, but with a touch of sadness; maybe in all the chaos those two had found a way to make up? She doesn't blame Dr. Watson for his reaction; this isn't the kind of thing that a person could digest easily. She just hopes that he can accept what Holmes has one and accept him back into his life; surely their happiness together is worth that.

She flies in when Holmes calls out, far too giddy to remember things like propriety. Her lodgers are back -- well, hopefully -- and she got to help.

"Oh -- oh!" She stops when she sees the dummy on the floor, the hole in his head, and she puts her hand to her chest. "Oh, goodness. How lifelike that looks!"