"Holmes, come here, NOW!"
Sherlock was just in the middle of playing his violin when he heard a cry from Watson. He furrowed his eyebrows and put the violin down immediately analyzing in his brain what he could conclude from Watson's intonation and used pitch. Clearly it was irritation.
"What is it Watson?" he said entering the common room.
"What did you do to Gladston now?!" Watson was kneeling near the dog, patting his head, eyes shooting hostile glares at Holmes.
"Honestly doctor, I don't know what you are talking about."
"Oh, cut the act, Holmes! I told you many times to not experiment on my.."
"Our" he interrupted, not being aware that this remark will only anger even more his collegue.
"If you would think that Gladston is our dog you would stop experimenting on him!" fumed Watson standing up looking at Holmes. Sherlock had this puzzled looked on his face, a mix of shock and bewilderment. Doctor pinched the base of his nose, closed eyes and took a deep breath.
"Just please tell me when the effect will wear off."
Sherlock walked by John and kneeled near Gladston. The dog was lying unconscious. No signs of breathing. Eyes wide open. Tongue protruding. He gently touched the fur. Cold. He applied more pressure to the touch hoping to feel a beating heart. Nothing. Quickly he stand up withdrawing his hand.
"So, when it will end? What on earth did you give him this time? He seems.."
"Dead."
"Yes, I know Holmes, when it will.."
"No, Watson, he is dead."
"What?" John couldn't help to laugh a bit, "No, that can't be right.." his expression changed as he fall down on his knees examining Gladston in the same manner as Holmes did. Holmes was standing silent.
"No.." John started to panic "No, no, no! Holmes, what did you give him?!" he shoot a glare at the detective while hugging Gladston.
"I didn't give him anything.." came the faint answer.
"Don't you lie to me, you.."
"I DIDN'T GIVE HIM ANYTHING, WATSON!"
Watson looked in shock at him. Holmes didn't rise his voice often, he was too much in control of himself to show any kind of stronger emotions, but now.. Sherlock's fists were clenched, jaws tighten, eyes.. In the same second he turned around and storm out of the room.
"Holmes.. Holmes!" John gently put Gladston down and caught up with Holmes grabbing him by the shoulder. "Look at me, look at me, dammit!" he forced Sherlock to turn around. Now he was sure what he saw earlier, Holmes cheeks were stained with tears. Realizing that doctor is looking at him he quickly attempted to wipe of the tears but before he could do it Watson pulled him in a tight hug. He could feel that detective was all tensed up, trying his best not to give into his emotions, but with time the muscles loosen up and a sob which couldn't be held any longer escaped his mouth. John felt as Sherlock's hand are gripping his vest, eyes burrowed into his shirt. He felt the spasms that came through his body with every sob. He patted messy, curly hair repeating in a comforting voice "there, there". Sherlock started to calm down and gently withdraw from the hug. He rubbed his eyes in irritation, straighten up and looked at the doctor. Stern Sherlock Holmes was back.
"I was quite fond of your dog. My condolences." his voice still and firm. John looked at him and put a hand on his shoulder giving him a reassuring grasp.
"Our dog".
Because I believe that there are two people Sherlock cares about - Watson and Gladstone. Written after I had to put to sleep my 16 years old dog, I put some of my pain into it.