Sherlock found himself, for once, thankful that he had no cases for the day. He couldn't really deal with one given his current.. Problem.
Said problem was excitedly wriggling in his arms, desperately trying to get a lick at his face.
The detective huffed, looking down and the ball of fur as he used his back to press the door shut. As soon as he heard it click, he allowed the pup to wriggle out of his grasp. It let out excited barking, galloping all over the flat in a brown and black blur. Finally, they scrambled to a stop, stumbling over their big paws and flopping to the ground.
Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "Not very graceful, are you?" He asked. As if his voice was energy, the dog leapt to his feet again and yapped again, their mismatched eyes bright with excitement.
Honestly, Sherlock didn't know what he had been thinking when he picked up the dog. He had been heading home in the rain when he saw some punks chasing after the pup with sticks and cans tied to the dog's tail. Without a second thought, Sherlock had scooped up the pup, threatened the boys with a quick flash of Lestrade's ID, and walked away.
He sighed, crossing over to the couch, and flopping down. Instantly, the little furball tried to jump up onto the couch, but whined as it was too short to reach. Sherlock looked towards the whining animal, before kneeling down, and lifting the pup onto the couch. The dog quickly flopped onto Sherlock's chest, their pink tongue sticking out just a bit.
The detective looked over, noticing the wet spots all over the floor. "You're making quite the mess," He declared, before feeling a tight squeeze around his heart. "Although, I suppose it doesn't matter, does it? No one will be here to be angry."
He looked back up at the ceiling, attempting to ignore the thoughts of John invading his head. The Army Doctor had moved out of 221B a few months ago, and was now living with Mary and their daughter. Sherlock hadn't talked to him or had John join him for a case in so long.
And as hard as it was to admit to himself… He was lonely.
Without his constant companion, he found himself at a stasis. It was if.. Everything wasn't worth it when John wasn't at his side. It was the first time in his life he had felt close to another human, and now they simply weren't. How do I deal with sadness? I've never had to before? I don't know-
A loud whine broke through his thoughts, causing Sherlock's bright eyes to turn back to the dog. The second he was looking at the pup, the tail began to wag once more, and they crawled up his chest until they could lick at his face. Sherlock couldn't stop a smile from crawling up his face.
He quickly sat up, his hands going under the puppy's arms and lifting her up. A she He saw, before looking towards her. "You know, I have been looking for a new flatmate," He declared,"I think you'll do quite nicely. What do you say?"
The dog barked once more, as if responding the Sherlock, and burying her face against his shoulder. In the back of his mind, Sherlock heard that annoyed voice abashing him. Dogs can't understand or respond to such questions, they're just animals. It said. You know this, why are you acting like this?
But Sherlock simply dismissed those words. He had a companion again, and it was a dog.. Something he hadn't had since Redbeard. For the first time in a long while, his lonely heart was starting to feel full.